The first time Halloween rolled around after I started college, I found myself without a costume. I was two months into my very first semester, still struggling to make solid friends and had no parties or spooky events to attend. I didn’t see much point in putting together a costume when I would just be sitting in my room the night of Oct. 31.
I adore Halloween. It is probably my favorite holiday, although my opinion always wavers when the jingle bells start ringing. I love eating loads of candy, dressing up, admiring everyone’s costumes and feeling a crisp chill in the air. The whimsical side of the holiday has always appealed to me as someone who finds the joy and eccentricity in everything I come across.
When I arrived at college, I realized Halloween meant something different to everyone else — there seemed to be a memo that I’d never received. As I scrolled through my Instagram feed, I noticed most people were wearing the same thing: a colored corset, black shorts or skirts and maybe a unique accessory or two. The consensus was to dress as the “sexy” version of an animal, character, celebrity or otherwise typical costume.
I want to make it clear that I am not opposed to corsets or to any other pieces of clothing — people can and should wear whatever they want and whatever makes them feel beautiful. My issue doesn’t lie in the outfits themselves, but rather the lack of creativity and the social pressure this can create for anyone who might not want to dress this way.
The outfits are incredible, but what makes them different from any other night-out look? Bunny ears, to make it clear which animal you’re going for, or a bit of blood around the lips to look like a vampire? Most of the time, I struggle to connect an outfit to a particular costume, and need a reference picture to understand what the concept is. I find it rare to see anything outside of this box, and when I do, it’s almost always an overly ridiculous costume meant to be laughed at more than anything else.
All of this, from what I can tell, is a byproduct of the college phenomenon known as “Halloweekend.” A two or three night partying experience where a new costume is expected each night. This is, of course, a tall order and can be quite expensive if you’re not careful. Wearing a couple of different colored corsets that will probably be reused many times in the future is the easy way out while still looking cute.
However, to me, Halloween is special because of the way it celebrates creativity and individuality. You can be whoever you want to be for a day. You can indulge in your own interests and tap into your inner child and nobody will judge you or laugh at you. It’s freeing.
If saving time and money is a concern, you can always look through your closet for things that can be repurposed. Personally, I love using Halloween as an excuse to buy new clothes that I can then wear on a daily basis after they’ve debuted as part of my costume.
In recent years, there has been an online trend where people will dress up as an extremely niche meme or cultural reference for Halloween which might only be understood by a few people. I love looking at these because of how much thought went into them, and how unique they are to the person wearing them.
Niche costumes can also inspire conversation. When someone asks what your costume is, you can take the time to explain and make a connection through it. It can be fun to elaborate on the significance of your outfit and where the inspiration comes from, especially if it is something that matters to you.
I have always chosen my costumes to reflect my hobbies and passions, usually picking characters from media that I have a sentimental connection with. A few of my favorites were Isabella from “Phineas and Ferb” — whom I share a name with — and Cher from “Clueless,” because, as a blonde girl who attends Occidental, it seemed like a duty.
Halloween is a holiday that belongs to you. You should make the most of it, treat it like a day that only comes once a year — because it does. If you want to wear a corset because that is what speaks to you, wear it. If you would rather wear a costume that requires five minutes of context and explanation to those who inquire about it, go ahead. Even if you’re alone in your room with nowhere to go, do it for yourself. You don’t need a reason to have fun or an audience to appeal to. My 10-year-old self would be delighted to know that I am still playing dress up over a decade later.
Contact Isabella Shotwell at shotwell@oxy.edu
