have I this picture from years ago, hanging up on my fairy lights in my room. I see it and it makes me laugh; a dumb picture of my dumb brothers in fairy costumes, me in the middle smiling ear to ear. Those were the good days of Halloween, with apple bobbing and cakes with black and orange icing. Don’t get me wrong; I love clubbing – it’s always fun with the right people, and I’ve had so many fun (and messy) nights in Exeter. Getting dressed up with your friends for a night of spooky drinking games and Thriller on the dancefloor, it’s a great night.
There’s huge pressure to look sexy
But I can’t help but think, it’s all a bit more stress than its worth. Picking my costume is a huge pain; trying to balance what I like and what I think other people will like, whilst trying not to actually care what other people like. Worried I’ll get the third degree if I wear a Harley Quinn costume, accused of not being a real fan and just joining the trend, jumping on the band wagon, just another fake, vapid girl on Halloween. No one would question a guy on his knowledge of kryptonite if he wore a Superman costume, but suddenly I’m asked the President of Gotham in the Batman series in 2006, if I’m to be accepted for my costume. I went as Captain America one year (my favourite Avenger), about whom I can argue my fandom trivia and theories, but I was asked repeatedly if I even know Marvel that well.
There’s huge pressure to look sexy; one need only walk into a costume shop and look at the difference between the men’s and women’s sections. If I see one more doctor outfit for guys, with the counterpart being a sexy nurse costume for girls, I might scream. Halloween brings with it slut shaming galore wherein women are judged on their costumes if they show too much skin, despite the constant pressure to do so. The fear of inadequacy is so present for everyone on Halloween night, but even more so when it’s a toss-up between being labelled boring or slutty.
In all fairness, the only thing I plan to be on Halloween is too drunk to care.