An unspoken transcript

Halloween is a special holiday rooted in two traditions that give practically anyone the chance to go out and be creative.

Carving pumpkins is a true artform and encourages originality, analytical thinking (if I cut here, will the hole look like an ear, or will I just cut a huge hole in my head?) and delicate knife handling.

And of course, costumes. We all know those people who think about their costumes all year long, and then show up with the most elaborate/outrageous/who-would-have-ever-thought-of-that getup that makes the rest of us feel less confident about our contraptions. We all want to be that person with the really awesome costume.

But over the past few years, I have noticed a sea change in Halloween. It’s more plastic, more pre-packaged, and less original than ever before. The signs of a successful Halloween are changing. It’s no longer having the most original costume, instead, it’s having the costume that lets the most butt cheek hang out.

And that’s just not the bar crowd, either. From Newsweek this week: “Apparently, witches aren’t ugly anymore; they’re sexy. So are pirates and pumpkins and princesses–traditional little girl Halloween costumes that used to say, Isn’t she cute? now scream, That’s hot! with an increasing array of halter tops, bare midriffs and miniskirts.”

American Apparel has solutions if you’re not pint-sized. And they are of course in line with the American Apparel brand: provocative. The brand has a site dedicated to finding a costume for uninspired party-goers that can be assembled entirely with American Apparel. How clever. But seriously, between the prebagged costumes (how many Rainbow Brights did you see walking around last year) and the vending machine options from places like American Apparel, is there any creativity left in Halloween? And if there’s no creativity, is there much fun?

 Recent trip to New York. Seeing the city through the eyes of its residents (many as recent transplant friends) and some thoughts on the experience.

People understand their pretension by association.

Live in New York and you will be pretentious, even if it’s just because of the people you’re around.

Walk Walk Walk Walk.

It’s the biggest smallest island community.

I can’t believe how many people explained the neighborhoodiness of their corner of New York. And I saw it in action when Luke waved hello to the street meat guy on his way home from work.

More corners to cut.

More options means more corners to cut. How can I get more out of the things around me? Success comes down to a willingness and aptitude to know what’s where and when to go there. From my natural inclination toward stinginess partnered with a personal competitiveness to “win.”

Everyone is in it together.

New Yorkers seem to huddle together to face the struggles that they create for themselves. Being alone in a huge city is counteracted by a natural openness to meeting new people–finding new friends or romantic interests.