On 4th October, the film director Edgar Wright tweeted ‘Unpopular but firmly held Halloween opinion: All costumes should be horror themed’. It was a seminal moment. The FilmBro community finally had its very own Joan Rivers, its local fashion police, primed to snipe any offender strutting into the party dressed in their homemade Sailor Moon costume. No punch for those lawbreakers.
Tell me, Edgar; why can’t we wear whatever we want? It’s a brutal thing to limit your Halloween wardrobe to sloppy paper maché recreations of Michael Myer’s waxy white mask. Anyone with a pot of glue can slap that together.
I can slip into something for no better reason other than it makes me feel beautiful
Now, don’t misunderstand me here. A healthy lashing of fake blood is a tasteful addition to any outfit. But I don’t love Halloween because I can shout ‘boo’ at strangers and receive Starbursts in return. I love it because, for one autumn evening, I can slip into something for no better reason other than it makes me feel beautiful.
We might alter our faces with make up or cover ourselves in latex. We can play with our identities. Or we could wear a cute outfit for the thrill of it. There are no dress codes on 31st October, and, as national holidays go, it doesn’t get more liberating than that.