Dr. Scoresby, a psychologist, once told me I needed to wear brighter colors. He said, “You wear browns and grays to try and blend in with the woodwork. This next month your assignment is to wear some bright colors. Something that will stand out. Something red.”
My sisters all bought me a beautiful, solid red skirt outfit with matching red earrings and necklace. It was bold. It took courage, but I wore it, and it soon became my favorite dress.
If I didn’t like wearing bright colors when I was younger, I most definitely did not like wearing costumes. Costumes begged for attention; everyone sees you in a costume and there is no way to blend. Hence, dressing up for Halloween was never my favorite activity. We had an old two-drawer dresser in the basement that held all of our Halloween costumes. There was the brown Pocahontas dress with suede fringe, there were lots of bonnets and long skirts, there was a dog costume from a Christmas play, there was a hat or two, and a couple of masks. There was a clown suit. I can’t remember if there was a wig or not, but it seems like something long and stringy was in that drawer. That was pretty much our costume selection.
One Halloween we little kids went downstairs to pick out our costumes. We dug through the drawers looking for something that would fit. I wasn’t the oldest child looking for a costume, nor was I the youngest. I was somewhere in between and didn’t know what to wear. It wasn’t like I hadn’t already been a clown for several years and it wasn’t like that dog costume was going to fit. It was for first-graders. I was a bit desperate. The school and Primary (church activity) Halloween party were the next day and there were prizes for the best costume at the Primary party. I didn’t want to lose, but was sure I couldn’t win. Not with store bought costumes to contend with anyway.
I finally decided on a pair of my dad’s long underwear. I still can’t describe the material. It wasn’t thermal. It wasn’t cotton. It was a thick, insulated, sage green nylon that could breathe. The underwear bottoms had elastic at the ankles, and the underwear top had elastic at the wrists and snapped up the front. My dad was a big man, so there was plenty of room to stuff the underwear arms, legs, and belly with pillows. I would add a hat and that would be my costume. (I must have liked baggy even then.)
The next afternoon we were in the church basement for our Primary party. The cement floor was painted an orange rust color with lighter colored designs stenciled on top of it. I know. I remember. I spent a lot of time looking at the floor. On one side of the room there was the a tub where kids bobbed for apples. Donuts and cider were the refreshments. There were other party activities being played but since I couldn’t move well in my bloated costume, I found a chair and sat in the corner and watched the kids play. And then I saw Ruth. Ruth was our pianist. All of Ruth’s kids had grown up and gone away a long time ago. Ruth was a large, large, large woman with little toothpick legs. Ruth hobbled as she walked. Ruth always sat with her legs far apart on the chair. Ruth always seemed a bit lonely, I imagined because her kids were gone and her husband was a Presbyterian and went to the other church in town. All of a sudden I saw a big resemblance between me and Ruth. My legs wouldn't fit together on my chair either. I was embarrassed and afraid my costume would hurt Ruth’s feelings if she saw it; I was afraid she would think I dressed up to make fun of her. I was sad and hoped Ruth wouldn't see me. I was miserable and it wasn’t just because I hated donuts and apple cider.
Soon the ladies, Elsie, Vera, Gene, and the like, stopped the games and told all the children to gather to the center of the room and sit on the floor so we could sing songs and they could announce the costume winners. I’m sure we sang
There’s a mean old witch with a hat.
She rides on her broom with her cat.
Her chin is pointed and her shoes are too
So you better watch out or she might scare you.
There’s a mean old witch with a hat.
BOO!
because we sang that song every year. Then it was time to announce the winner of the contest. I was still sitting on my chair out of the way. I was still hoping Ruth didn’t see me. They announced third place, then second place, and when they announced first place they called my name. People laughed. People clapped. I was even more miserable. I was going to have to stand up in front of all those people and everyone would see that Ruth and I matched and that it looked like I was making fun of her. But no. Ruth was smiling. Ruth was happy for me. Ruth was clapping. Ruth didn’t see me as a mirror of her at all. I won. I won.
I don’t think I dressed up again after that. It was too much. From then on I was the kid without the costume. It may have made me stick out even more, but I wasn’t going through that feeling again for anything. No party is worth that, especially when they serve cider and donuts.
What was your best or worst costume?
Do you like to wear costumes?
