Homemade Halloween

On her Substack, a friend recently wrote about Halloween back in the day. The photos of children in her hometown of Victor, Iowa, with their homemade costumes, brought me such joy.

It was such a simple time. Halloween in Hospers, my hometown, was similar, too.

You cut eyeholes in a sheet and went as a ghost. Your mom made you a black witch hat, and you might get a black shapeless piece of fabric to wear with it. It might be really big so that you would rock the witch costume for three (or four) years.

If you were really lucky you might get to wear a stiff, molded-plastic mask that would make your face sweat, but the costume would likely be handmade.

We younger kids walked around a block or two in a pack while moms and dads stayed inside and luxuriated in the quiet. If you’ve ever seen “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” it was a lot like that, although none of us ever got a rock in our Halloween bags.

Later in the evening, the high school kids in Hospers soaped windows of the downtown businesses and smashed Jack-o-lanterns all over Main Street. That used to be a rite of passage and a way for super buttoned-up Reformed kids to let off a little steam.

At some point, though, it all changed. I blame the ‘80s. People started buying complicated and costly costumes for their kids, and then adults co-opted the celebration and started dressing up, too.

I did not get the memo about adult Halloween costumes the year that peers decided to dress up. Where are these memos posted, and why do I never see them?

The following year, though, I had a green rubber monster head, but that was it. I was still operating out of the assumptions of my youth. It was like having that plastic-molded mask all over again. The store provided the head; I assumed it was up to me to outfit the body.

My rural roots taught me to be thrifty and creative. If you’re rural, you know how we joke about farmers who fix machinery with baling wire and twine. I am cut from that same lowly cloth of making do.

So, I made a spiked dragon tail out of paper grocery sacks. I sprayed the tail green and attached it to a green high school graduation gown. To complete the ensemble, I found some green latex painting gloves.

The result? Cheapness, not greatness.

And I’m still at it. I visit second-hand stores and scrounge for toy helmets and build masks and headdresses with papier-mâché and craft foam.

Felt is my friend.

Last year, my daughter’s family went as characters from the Disney movie “The Emperor’s New Groove.” Before they had kids, they assembled Halloween costumes from “found” objects, too, but now there is no time.

I decided to join the fun, but I made my costume. Did it look professional? It did not.

Papier-mâché is a lot harder to work with than I remembered. The headpiece for Kuzco was lumpy and bumpy and very bush league, but it fit my head, and it stayed on for an entire afternoon roaming downtown Cedar Rapids.

I stood next to my son-in-law (“Kronk”), my daughter (“Yzma”), and small grandson (“Bucky the Squirrel”) with their slick costumes, and sort of blended in.

The costume barely needed needle and thread, and that was a huge win. While I can sew, I prefer not to. Belts, safety pins, elastic, and Velcro are my secret weapons.

Perhaps it takes moxie to appear in public with a costume that is so completely homemade, but it’s more a matter of being able to thumb my nose at consumerism. Except this year, I couldn’t reach it. My nose, that is.

This year, my daughter and her little family decided to be characters from “The Nightmare Before Christmas.” After googling around, I decided to portray the Mayor. I bought felt, craft foam, paint, glue, and some paper. Oh, and a man’s gray suitcoat.

I proceeded to craft the lampshade-shaped head. It would have been easier to repurpose an actual lampshade! Something akin to math was involved in figuring out how to make a graduated conical cylinder, and math, like those vintage plastic masks, makes me sweat.

After 20 hours of labor and intermittent swearing, the Mayor emerged from a crime scene of cardboard and felt carnage.

Maybe point-and-click would have been smarter. It certainly would have been faster.

Yes, I could just go out and buy a costume, but where's the fun in that? Doesn't everyone want to look slightly tacky at Halloween anyway?

This is what on-the-cheap fun looks like, folks.

The characters of Sally, Zero, and Jack Skellington looked mighty dapper. The Mayor of Halloween Town, well, from a distance, he looked pretty good, but he is literally held together with staples and duct tape. A strong wind would have finished him.

I maybe have 10 more years of this fol-de-rol before the grandkids refuse to be seen in public with me.

And that will make me want to keep at it that much more.

Joan Zwagerman should probably just quit making Halloween costumes, but she’s not a quitter!