by Donna Hruska
We used to discard old Halloween costumes until the number of potential spooks around our house increased to six and Halloween began to rival Christmas in depleting the budget. Now when the last creepy character reports in with his bag of loot, the costumes are collected, laundered, and carefully packed in a cardboard box labeled COSTUMES in big block letters. There, through some kind of magic they are turned into treasure.
Take the case of the priest’s cassock, for instance. It was originally made for an All Saint’s Day parade to turn a fourth-grader into Saint Charles Borromeo, complete with red Bishop’s sash and beanie. The next Halloween, minus the sash, it was a witches dress for a little girl. Last year, with the sash reappearing as one of several bands of rich trimming, it was an ancient Babylonian nobleman’s garment in a skit dramatizing a report in history class.
Any time we come across something that has possibilities, we throw it into the costume box. An old at-home costume of Mother’s, the funny hats won at the PTA Fun Fair, false mustaches that come as premiums in the box of corn chips, the eye patch Father wore when he scratched his eye are all saved. When Halloween draws near, we purchase only a few things to finish out a costume. Wigs, false beards, and rubber masks might be on our shopping list, but those flimsy ready-made costumes—never!
There is one added advantage to a costume box: if you have a budding thespian in the family. Remember, when they are casting the school play, it’s the child with the costume who gets the part.
Leave a Reply