— We dressed up for Halloween at the Beanhouse. I was a beatnik, with a black wig, black beret, black turtleneck, the heavily disassociated glasses.
(You’re a what? A beatnik. A what? A beatnik. WHAT?? Sigh … um, all right … I’m Cher with boobs. Oh, okay.)
— One of the guys came as — well, it’s hard to describe. He wore a calf-length short-sleeved dress. It was loose, shapeless, had a dark, floral pattern. His normally bald head was now covered by some Cruella DeVil fright wig, teased and frizzled and teased some more. A neon green sash served as a headband, circling this frowsy black-white hair cloud. Oh, and he had perky little breasts. Perky little navel orange breasts shoved inside a bra — which he tugged at incessantly. How do you wear these things? I can’t stand it! It itches! OW! It’s pulling on my chest hair! Then sometimes, his navel orange breasts would seem to fall out of their separate cups and line up, neatly touching each other, like billiard balls in the pocket. So he’d freak out all over again. Dammit! THEY KEEP MOVING AROUND! ARGGGHHH!
“Um, hon? What are you supposed to be?”
Tug. Smush. Grunt. I am dying watching him.
“I’m Macy Gray from beyond the grave! DAMmit!!”
“Oh.”
I look at the dark hair peeking out from his floral neckline AND his floral hemline.
“Well, hm, Macy needs a wax.”
“Actually, I saw her once in concert. She looks just like this.”
“She looks beyond the grave already?”
“Yup.”
“Wow. That sucks.”
His navel oranges are misbehaving again. He claws at his breasts frantically. Turns to walk away, trips in his heels. He’s a mess. He rights himself, starts singing:
Try to say goodbye and I choke
Try to walk away and I stumble ….
We are both howling with laughter.
— Later on, I invented a game I dubbed “Costume … or Bum?” It was a huge hit and I’m in talks with Milton Bradley now … so back off, ya stealers!!
— A house up the street from us — a purple and lilac Painted Lady — did a whole Bates Motel thing. People gathered in front to watch the silohuette projection of Norman Bates with a raised knife, about to strike. Then it would quickly switch to a reverse projection of Bates just standing there, looking out the window, head bowed, eyes up, all creepy. And up on the second floor balcony, rocking in her chair, was “Mother.” She’d rock and rock, then suddenly swivel her horrible skeleton face toward the crowd. I think the whole thing was mechanically operated, but, still, it totally FREAKED me out.
— The house next door to the Bates Motel had a huge Dementor billowing in the front yard and I cannot get past it. A freaking Dementor, people! I think I have to go back and egg that house for giving me nightmares. Kids seemed to love it, but I am now a quivering mass. Thanks, neighborinos!
— Oh, and elsewhere in my world ….. Piper was “so escited” because she was going to wear the neon pink Marilyn Monroe wig with the neon pink heart glasses she got for her birthday. She is obsessed with that get-up. I must get the full Halloween update!
Wow, you have a sense of history, Tracey! Most people have to be as old as as I am (early 60s) to know what a beatnik is (or was). Most of your customers and co-workers probably just had blank looks on their faces when they saw your get-up.
Gah, that would have been so frustrating, to have such a great costume (Hey – I’m 37 and I know what beatniks are) and have no one get it.
And the dementors – isn’t it funny how things that freak adults out seem not to phase kids? I remember that as a kid, my parents wouldn’t let me read The Hobbit until I was 10 or so because they were afraid it would scare me too much. I didn’t find it scary at all, then. But recently, I re-read it, and found that I had to put it down during the scene where Bilbo is lost underground (where he finds the Ring) because I was almost having a panic attack imagining how dark, and how confined, and how *the whole mountain could collapse in on him.*
I suppose it’s that, as adults, we have more life-experience, and we’re more aware of things to be afraid of. The thought of something not killing you but being able to steal your soul…oh, that’s so awful. But I don’t think I would have been as freaked out about it as a kid.
I’m 32 and know beatniks. Has a lot to do with your influences as a child, I guess.
It would have been awesome to see the dementor. We trick or treated on base and the Marines did a pretty good job with what they had to work with.
My middle child was Supergirl this year. Two days before Halloween her brother (16 months) decided to pick up a small wooden box and throw it on her face. It smacked her just below the eye and she had quite the shiner. I thought it funny that Supergirl was sporting a black eye.
Macy Gray from Beyond the Grave is one of the best and funniest costumes I have ever heard of in my life.
Supergirl with a black eye! Cullen, that is hysterical!
red — I know. I was just crying watching him struggle with those oranges. I couldn’t look at him anymore.
Also 37 and know beatniks. But “Cher with boobs” THAT is priceless!
Cullen…while Supergirl rocks, your middle child had the perfect opportunity to do what my friend’s neighbor did…sport a green sweater with the letter “P” on it and go as a black-eyed pea.
Well, Shannon, plus they’re all gay so I decided just to name one of their icons. THEN they were, “Ohhhhh!”
I’m 34 and I know what beatniks are too. We need a support group of Young People Who Know What Beatniks Are, Maaaaannnnn….