I know I have told the story here before of my worst childhood Halloween, but I recently was reminded of another year that was less than wonderful: Halloween 1998. Sixth grade. The year I, for some reason, chose to dress up as an angel.
Halloween 1998 came with some apprehension to start with, as it was the first year since the fateful Cinderella Incident, and I wasn't sure what was "safe" to dress up as. Not that I would have let my peers influence me that much, necessarily, but that past year had been stressful and the last thing I wanted was a repeat performance. Especially now that we were in sixth grade and would be headed to middle school the next year. If my classmates had thought being ten years old was a big deal, the middle school jump was even bigger. It was honestly a stressful time.
Anyway, I don't know how I settled on dressing up as an angel for Halloween that year, but I definitely remember hearing other girls my age talk about it. I'm not sure why it suddenly became popular, but I think I was glad it did because I definitely was into girly costumes at the time (Sometimes I truly forget how girly I was when I was younger!) and it was safe, if other girls were talking about it. There would be no fear of being made fun of if I happened to be seen on Halloween night! (Fun fact: I rarely ever was, though I know a lot of us trick-or-treated in the same area.)
Little did I know, mean girls were going to be the least of my problems.
Halloween fell on a Saturday that year and my very first memory of the day is going to a local shoe repair place to pick up the white sandals that I wanted to wear with my costume, but had broken over the summer. This costume, you see, was doomed from the start.
The wings on my angel costume were separate from the dress itself. They were like the kind you'd buy individually, with the elastic loops to put your arm through. My first real mistake was not thinking about how this would work on a chilly night. My parents were not going to let me out of the house without a jacket on (in fact I'd already almost gotten grounded from trick-or-treating that afternoon after walking out of the frame of a picture my father was taking), and it couldn't go over the wings, could it?
Of course not! So I came up with what I thought was a brilliant idea: I convinced my parents to let me wear a very light favorite hoodie of mine, that was a very pale gray color with some pink and light blue accents. (I don't remember at all how cold it actually was.) This way, the elastic straps of the wings could probably go over the jacket.
It worked fine at first, except for the fact that I was probably a little chilly. But then, when my Aunt Trish and I made our usually stop off at McDonald's, all hell broke loose.
We had eaten dinner, and were in the bathroom. When I came out of the stall, my one wing must have dropped or something, because my aunt went to straighten it out and...SNAP!!! One of the elastic straps, which was probably already weak from being pulled over a bulkier article of clothing than the flimsy costume it was meant for, broke. I was devastated. How could I be an angel when my wings were now hanging limply off my one shoulder?!
Thankfully, Aunt Trish was friendly with the first woman on our trick or treat route and asked her if she had a pin or something we could use to try and hold the wings on. The woman, unfortunately, only had a weird straight pin that we had to bend into place to hold the wings onto my back. And, while trying to figure this out, of course the other elastic band snapped. My aunt, thankfully, was finally able to find a position for the pin to hold the wings into a place so that they looked somewhat presentable...but things got super rough. Having just one bent up pin to hold my wings in place made it difficult to move...and at some point, I don't remember exactly why, we started trying to move from house to house in the car...and getting in and out with my pinned-on wings was nigh on impossible.
The strangest part of the night, though, came toward the end of it. We'd stopped at a house, and I struggled my way out of the car with my wings fluttering in a not-so-nice way. I made it up to the doorstep after the agonizing fight to leave the car, only to be informed by a girl who looked to be about college-aged, that she was all out of candy. However, she directed me to take a strange route around the side of her house and to the back, as apparently someone down there would have candy. I suppose this was an instance where being a scaredy cat child came in handy. I was weirded out by her suggestion, and went to tell my aunt, unsure of what to do. I got back to the passenger window of the car, started telling her what happened, and the realized, on top of everything else l, that I'd lost my halo! I couldn't believe it. First the wings, now the halo, too?! All I'd wanted was to be an angel (I truly don't remember even considering any other costume that year.) and instead and I was starting to look like some disgruntled fairy-bride who'd been left at the alter!
I had a bit of a meltdown, then went back and retraced my steps. Unfortunately this meant going back on the strange girl's lawn, and as I was searching, she was yelling out to me to go where she'd told me. I don't remember if I responded at all, but I did find my halo. And, I don't know if it was due to costume stress or fear or annoyance or what, but I did not follow the girl's instructions to the back of the house or wherever it was. But I do think about that often and wonder what it was. Was it some Halloween prank? I'm guessing most likely it was a jump scare being set up...but I can't help but wonder if maybe it could have been something more sinister. You truly never know.
I also recall slipping on some railroad ties in someone's yard that night and skinning my knee, along with tearing by white tights and blood staining them. Saturday the 31st felt more like Friday the 13th that year, for sure.
I suppose it's a testament to my love of Halloween that I stuck it out all night and didn't just give up and go home. If it had been any other outfit, any other occasion, my frustration would have gotten the better of me. I did, however, swear off any and all costumes with wings, and didn't wear anything even close to wings again until I was in my late twenties. My stint as an angel definitely caused me some Halloween costume trauma.
I suppose that's what I get for choosing a costume that never really suited me!
Stay spooky, my friends.
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