False-Facing The Facts

Halloween costumes and I go way back – even before the 1967 Dr. Doom outfit that still hangs in my mother’s garage.

(Dr. Doom, for the uninitiated, is the arch-nemesis of the Fantastic Four. He’s capable of ruling the nation of Latveria with an iron fist, wreaking havoc on all super-heroes who stand in the way of his ambitions, and toilet-papering the houses of those cretins who turn off the lights and pretend not to be home on Halloween.)

Yes, I can remember when a joyous cry of “let’s look at the young boy pages” meant you were perusing the new Halloween catalog, not that a congressman was getting ready for a “closed doors session.”

Mass-produced Halloween costumes weren’t even introduced until the 1950s, but they’ve become a huge business. BuyCostumes.com boasts 10,000 different designs. I suppose so many are needed because proud parents want their children to be unique. This way each neighborhood can be visited by Ethan the Power Ranger, Ethan the Penguin, Ethan the Spongebob Squarepants…

This Halloween, across the land, millions of parents will break out their Kodaks and camcorders to record their adorable tikes extorting candy from complete strangers. How quickly the warm memories fade! Within 15 years the parents will be complaining to the kids, “Why have you always got your hand out? Get a job, you bum!”

Of course some stick-in-the-mud people would like to do away with the whole trick-or-treating phenomenon, based on the premise that October 31 should not be reserved for dressing up and pretending to be something you’re not. (“We have Sundays for that, thank you very much.”)

I know pirates are big this year, but if the manufacturers had been given more lead time, I’m sure the smash of the season would be North Korean Madman. (“You serve fruit instead of Snickers Bars? This is declaration of war!”)

My son Gideon has chosen to celebrate his third Halloween by dressing as a green skeleton. (It’s a wonder he didn’t choose to go as a “ghostie,” or as“bandage man,” as he calls The Mummy.) It’s cute that children can be so innocent and so oblivious to the morbid nature of skeletons. Soon enough they’ll be adults; then they can be oblivious to the cardiovascular system. (“Forget this quack and his diet. Roll me down the hallway for a second opinion.”)

Halloween costumes have gotten really expensive, and it’s hard to economize. You can buy used costumes at summer yard sales, but how can you gauge the number of growth spurts between then and autumn? (“Thanks for the kindergarten wardrobe, Mom, but I’ve just been drafted by the NBA.”)

Sure, some insufferable artsy-craftsy parents cut down costs by making costumes at home. This is a time-consuming process, because first they have to bake brownies, pose for Norman Rockwell, deflect Eddie Haskell’s flattery, etc.

Making your own costumes supposedly stimulates the imagination of the youngsters. I guess it does in a way. (“Okay, honey, imagine this process without the part where you spill glue on the sofa and mommy uses naughty words.”)

I fear that these “homemade costume” children may learn their lesson too well. Someday they’ll be advising, “No, you don’t need store-bought cataract surgery, Dad. Look, we’ve got construction paper and glitter and…”