Last night, D and I spent some time at Harry’s in the Quarter while enjoying the various costumes that flitted in and out of the place and remarking on the Great Creativity Surplus of New Orleans. Friends, Mark and S, who sat with us took the opportunity to recount the Halloween they spent while in exile in New England. Mark’s friend left here for Salem (of the witch trials) years ago and that’s where the couple went to enjoy a historic tour, haunted house, walk through cemeteries and, oddly, a Halloween parade. Looking forward to it, Mark and S started to cross the main street to position themselves in the sidelines when a cop pushed them back and said, ‘Watch out! Here comes the parade!” 500 motorcycles zoomed past making a racket loud enough to raise all of the long-dead and, in five minutes, they were gone. “Ok, parade’s over! You can cross the street now!” yelled the cop, while M and S stood there completely flummoxed. M almost threw his drink to the ground in protest. “That’s not a parade. They’re not allowed to call it that! Where were the floats, costumes and throws? We don’t own the market share on beads – they can buy them, too!”
On hearing this story, I suggested to Mark that we get into the business of Parade and Costume consultancy. We will rent ourselves to various cities, sub-contract material requirements back to local businesses and help alleviate the overall national deficiency of color and mirth. This service will be offered even to some people we know in town – there’s just no excuse for locals to suffer from a lack of creativity leading to party and costume lameness when in New Orleans and all the raw materials are readily available. Seriously, if not here, with all of its political and social muses, satirical candor, fabric and accessories shops and food options, where else in America?
Another related topic of discussion was Slutoween, the phenomenon racing across the nation that is fully elaborated in Jill Sobule’s song entitled Women Whose Costume Is Just That They’re Slutty. There was no lack of that on Bourbon and Frenchmen Streets last night. Off the shelf sexy cops, sexy barmaids, sexy schoolteachers. Why, why, why? Thankfully, there were many clever, original and well-executed pieces out there, too. My friend, Marilyn, who will soon be in competition with Dangerblond for sexiest grandmother in New Orleans, looked ravishing last night in black netting, spiderwebs and lingerie over a nude bodysuit. Very tastefully done, easy on the eye, mostly hand-made and not whorish in the least. Another friend was fully clothed in a flamenco dress and, with the right makeup, looked like a million dollars. Yet another friend wore a bustier over an old-fashioned brothel worker’s onesie and was smashing. Even a dog led by her pirate parents made a better Wonder Woman than some young ladies in the same skimpy version of the outfit. In other words, it is possible to wear very little clothing, let the girls and tookus hang out and still look creatively sexy without appearing skanky.
The spectrum need not be bracketed by revving motorcycles and Naughty Devil. Show that you’ve put some thought into having real fun at Halloween and not by reaching for fast vehicles or the easiest, ready-made and ill-fitting costume solely to look like a $5 hooker. It has been done, please let us show you how. Can we have a few brass bands, jugglers, stilt walkers, floats and throws while we are at it?
Even my SON knows there’s NO excuse for lame-o costumes here. Maybe he needs to teach everybody how to do it. You and he could go into business together. The lion tamer and the supplies truck driver…
I was a Day of the Dead calavera (La Catrina) last night. Pictures to come. Send pictures of Little Man in his get-up.