Here we are at Halloween again, and The Girl is answering the time-honored question: which kitty will she be this year?
To refresh your memory, she has been Kitty every year since she was 3. That first year, she was just Kitty. The next year, it was Sparkly Kitty. Sparkly Kitty stayed a couple of years. Then came Cowgirl Sparkly Kitty. A witch hat was added to the top of the pink cowgirl hat. Yep. Cowgirl Sparkly Witch Kitty. Cowgirl Sparkly Witch Zombie Kitty followed, complete with a bandaged tail and drops of blood. Her Harry Potter obsession included Gryffindor socks and a cape, making Cowgirl Sparkly Witch Zombie Harry Potter Kitty. Last Halloween, the layers disappeared to make way for rainbow hair and a hologram horn, and Kittycorn was born.
She told me that she might not be a cat this year. I’m a little sad, but Kitty has had a good run.
Although my mom sewed matching Raggedy Ann and Andy costumes for my brother and me, and maybe others, Halloween was usually a tacky hodgepodge in our house.
I remember being excited about whatever I was each year, but sometimes it was a plastic Care Bear mask and flammable suit straight from the store. A few of my friends had professional-quality outfits, ones to envy, but most everyone looked a little crappy. And crappy was good.
I was a ’50s girl in a poodle skirt once, and I was a punk rocker more times than I can count. Punk rocker was the default once we got older.
Not wanting to wear a costume, but also wanting candy, makes for lazy costumes. I don’t remember it being taken, but there’s a lovely Polaroid of my brother and me, in what were probably our best Halloween costumes as kids.
I had a fur coat back then. A real one, and my cousin had one, too. It was white rabbit. I wouldn’t own one now, but it was something special. I’d wear it to the theater and on other special occasions, usually with a fancy dress.
This one year, I guess Mom let me wear it on Halloween. I was a bunny. With real fur. My ears were made of coat hangers and white men’s tube socks. I can’t tell if I was wearing pants, but I was wearing white opaque tights, and my face was painted with white clown makeup. The rest of the clown makeup was used for my brother, who was a bald headed clown. He had on men’s oversized boxers and his trademark Superman sweatshirt, and it was awesome. I pulled a pillowcase off my bed to carry my loot.
No one cared, because we all looked like that.
The Boy has been Zipperface, a werewolf and a zombie, and the makeup is always intense. We’ve learned how to use Spirit Gum, and it has to dry a little before you stick the zipper or scars to his skin.
He may or may not wear a costume this year. She’s still deciding, to Kitty or not to Kitty. I’d love to see one more year of Kitty. Don’t worry, though; she will be wearing pants, and we will never, ever own a real cat fur coat.