THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, November 3, 1996 TAG: 9611010416
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 20 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: Lorraine Eaton
LENGTH: 73 lines
Once again the season has come and gone. My buck teeth are stowed safely in my jewelry box. My devil ears and spiked, sequined-tipped tail are hidden in the hamper till next Halloween.
Now comes the season of regrets. Once again, I was a Halloween failure dressed in a passable costume that I've had since my senior year of college. The felt shaft of my devil's tail is embarrassingly old, faded and nubbed like a worn out blanket. The buck teeth that I wear to work are also showing signs of old age.
But this is also the season of redemption, dreams and resolutions. Next year I'll do better. According to the pros that takes planning.
Consider Kelli McClurkin and Robin Stallings of Nags Head. Last year they won the $50 grand prize at Goombay's with their Wilma and Betty costumes, complete with a Bedrock mobile. Still high on their win, they planned this year's costume and after months of planning and hours of dying, wire cutting, gluing, sewing and sawing they were perfect Jane and Judy Jetsons . . . complete with a space mobile.
On Halloween morning, it was still a concept. The space mobile (with a hula hoop frame, a windshield of plastic sheeting, a sporty red fabric grille and a control panel) was parked in the middle of their living room surrounded by industrial wire cutters, glue and other tools of the Halloween trade.
``I'm just not sure if it will fit through the door,'' Kelli said early Thursday morning.
After consulting with Kelli, I have deduced that there are three ingredients to a really great Halloween costume. First is planning. Second is a sense of humor. Third is a knowledge of current events. Two of the three will work just fine.
For example, last year a guy at Goombay's dressed as a Jehovah's Witness (remember, we must have a sense of humor.) He wore a nice suit, a tie, a name tag and carried a stack of pamphlets.
The kicker: He had somehow attached a screen door to the front of his body.
Perhaps it's because I'm a news person, but the best costumes I believe, are those tied to history or current events.
A few years ago when the notorious Briley brothers escaped from a maximum security prison in Virginia and were sent to death row, area college students were sporting striped jailhouse attire, complete with frying pans attached to their backs. A few years after that, Tammi and Jim Bakkers were cruising the Halloween party circuit. Then came the gloved Michael Jacksons in their white socks, black loafers and low-slung jeans.
Two years ago in Cleveland, I saw a dark haired woman in an immaculate pink suit, pillbox hat, dark glasses and demure pocketbook. She cruised the party on the arm of a life-size cutout of President Kennedy.
There's a certain level of celebrity that prompts the masses to mimic them. The key is to catch them in their prime.
At parties this year, amid the usual machine gun-toting gangsters, I spotted Kato Kaelin (an easy cop out for good-looking, long-haired guys - they just need to put on a suit and a name tag.) There was also a white guy dressed in a basketball jersey, high tops, tattoos and a green wig - Dennis Rodman, of course.
But most inspiring of all was Bella Karolyi. Sporting a thick mustache and red, white and blue warmups, a guy appeared at a fundraiser party for the Children's Hospital of the King's Daughters. Cradled in his arms was a blow-up doll dressed in gymnast's tights and fluffy, white socks. Kerri Strugg, of course.
For awhile Karolyi sipped draft beer while still holding his champion gymnast. But as the night wore on, Kerri became a burden. After awhile, the coach dropped the athlete in favor of beer.
Like any good Halloween planner, the guy anticipated this turn of events and had attached himself to Kerri with a rope. And by evening's end he was dragging a dirty, partially deflated doll in his wake.
Maybe I'll try something like that next year. Or maybe I'll be a clothesline. Or a lighthouse. A sailboat. A bottle of Orbitz. A nor'easter. Or maybe I'll go as Ron Speer.
Time to start planning. by CNB