Let me take this blog down a notch, away from writing and toward the gutter. Halloween was this past Saturday. Love Halloween, always have. Is there a connection between enjoying a holiday based around subterfuge and disguise and being a mystery writer? I dunno. Let’s say there is, and that I was the first one to point it out.
But that’s not why I’m writing. I’m writing because I’m the mother of a bright, beautiful, funny, clever 11-year-old girl, and when we went costume shopping, all the costumes were some version of “Halloween Slut”: naughty nurse, candy corn concubine, wanton witch. Want to portray a strong, interesting character? Too bad. You’re a girl. Strap on the fishnets and get to work.
My daughter bucked it all and made her own Penelope costume, based on the pig-nosed girl character in the movie. She was warm, and she got to smile a lot because she didn’t have to worry about her belly hanging out or her skirt being too short. But can’t we as a culture do better? Can we boycott the short, tight, mono-boob-creating female costumes and embrace creativity on this of all holidays?
By the way, I was an elven warrior, and I meant it. Tell me what your favorite costume was this year so we can carry those warm thoughts with us right up until next Halloween.