Candy Corn and Fishnets: Happy Halloween!

My daughter Riley wore her first Halloween costume when she was 2.  She went as, yes, a pirate.  (My call.  It was completely awesome.  More cute than bloodthirsty, but she did sport an eye patch and a hook for a hand.) 

 After that, it was three years of princesses.  Tiaras, sequined tutu dresses, plastic jewelry.  Dark days for her Goth-loving father.

 But when she turned 7, she started going in for more grisly fare, and that’s where her tastes remained -- which was great fun.  For the past three years in a row, her go-to Halloween option has been Vampire.  Badass Vampire.  Cape, pale face, black hair spray, black widow’s peak drawn on her forehead, and the slightest trickle of fake blood on her chin.  Very, very fearsome.  And when I say fearsome, I mean adorable as hell.

 Last week I went into her room and found her flipping through a magazine.  Subsequent investigation revealed it to be a costume catalog.  Every year, when my mom sends the kid a Halloween care package, she throws in a few of them to help Riley brainstorm ideas.

 “So,” I asked her, “what’s the costume plan this year?  We going to pull out the ol’ vampire cape again?” 

 “I want to go as Alice,” she said, “like from Wonderland.”

 I was surprised.  A little girly for her recent tastes, but a relatively easy costume to put together.  “That’s a cool idea,” I replied.  “You haven’t mentioned that one before.  What made you choose it?”

 “It’s right here,” she said, holding up the glossy catalog page for me to see:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Um. 

 Daddy was rendered just a little bit speechless for a moment.  Ahem.

 “Well… sure.  That’s a great idea.  Alice.  We can talk to Mommy about how to make an Alice costume that’s, you know… a little more appropriate than this.  Sound good?”

 “What do you mean appropriate?”

“Sweetheart, that costume is for a grown-up.”

 “So?”

 “So you’re nine.”

 “But she’s super pretty.  Look.”  She held it up again.  Yes, the model was quite attractive.  Due in no small part to her costume’s superb accentuation of her breastal region.

 “Yea, she’s pretty.  Listen, you can totally go as Alice if you want.  Let’s just figure out to how to make a costume that’s kid-friendly, okay?”

 “Hmmph.”

 A couple days later, Riley came into my office and tapped me on the shoulder.

 “I don’t want to be Alice any more.  I have a better costume idea,” she said.

 Thank God.  I could put off that stroke for a few years.

 “Great,” I replied.  “Let’s hear it.”

 “Hermione Granger.”

Relief flooded through me.   

“Excellent!” I said.  “I love it!  Hermione is perfect!  She’s smart, you’re smart!  She’s plucky and brave, you’re  plucky and--”

 “Here's the picture, see?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No.  No no no no no no.  What the hell is up with this catalog? 

 “Listen, Kiddo,” I said.  “These costumes are way too grown-up for you.  See?  Those are older girls.”

 “But you just said I had a growth spurt this summer!"

 “Yea, well, not that kind.  Give me that catalog."  I flipped through it.  "Aren't there any kids' costumes in here?"

 “Yea, but all those costumes are boring.” 

"So we'll just have to figure something out that's cool for your age and not boring."

"Fine," she pouted.  And off she went, disappointed in her dad's inability to get it.

 I do get it.  Halloween is about leaving yourself behind for a night, whether you’re a kid or not.  There's an obvious appeal to the idea of separating yourself from yourself, no matter how old you are.  Boy scouts become monsters.  Librarians become seductresses.  Mild-mannered dads become pirates.

 But I don’t love the idea of my daughter growing up thinking that dressing as a slutty nurse is the ideal in terms of attractiveness, or that Halloween just becomes a big male wish-fulfillment playground when you grow up. 

If my girl wants to be a vampire, she should get to be a vampire.

 And NO, not this kind: