Tutus, Miniskirts & Ombre Hair, Oh MY! (aka, Why Halloween Rocks)

I want to wear a tutu. 

There, I said it. I want to slip into a bright pink proliferation of cheap, layered, see through fabric that is really only appropriate for six year old girls and professional ballerinas. Hell, if kids can wear pajama pants, hoodies, and Uggs out to a restaurant on a Saturday night, why can't I sport a frou frou skirt fashioned for toddlers? At least it's a skirt right? I can easily dress it up with some smokin' hot heels and opaque tights. Wear it with fake lashes and a tiara and then spin like the pretty, pretty, princess I obviously am!

Well...no...not really. Because, in the immortal words of the great Kenny Rogers, You got to know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em. And the calendar tells me that wearing a tutu out on a Saturday night at my age is simply not in the cards. Sad as that reality check, truth bomb may be. Wa, wa...

Now, I've always been pretty fancy and very much a girlie girl. I loved Barbie growing up, wore makeup as soon as I was allowed, and would dress up in a costume on a random Tuesday and make my mom take pictures on our front lawn. Yes, I'm totally serious. That happened. And this was back when pictures were taken on actual film that needed to be developed. I'd wait weeks, nay, sometimes months for the results of these little impromptu photo shoots and maybe get one or two good shots of me posing in front of a tree in full costume, hair, and makeup like some tarted up lunatic. Naturally this led me directly into years and years of dance class. (Say what? I get to have FOUR TUTUS with sequins and a pair of fishnet tights? Sign me up bitches!) Then, when my dance career ran its course (helllooooo boobies!) I took up acting. (You mean I get to hang out with a bunch of other wonderful misfits pretending to be someone else while trussed up in a corset, sewn into a hoop skirt that doesn't fit through doors, and the world's largest taco shaped hat? I'm SO IN!) Of course I loved every Sybil-like minute of it. Getting to wear a costume, no matter how outrageous, that was painstakingly designed by a professional costume designer, handcrafted by willing apprentices, and sometimes even worked on by me personally was like a dream come true. Look at me now Ma'! Jazz hands!

Which brings me to precisely why Halloween is one of my all time favorite holidays. So much of it is over the top, theatrical greatness PLUS you get to wear a goofy getup and nobody can say shit. I could walk around my neighborhood in a giant tulle monstrosity and a big blonde wig holding a wand in one hand and a glass of wine in the other and no one would even bat an eye. With or without my kid! It's October 31st people -- the one day of the year that you get to wear something wildly inappropriate for your age and not give a damn. The perfect opportunity to let your super-freak flag fly and be the inner super hero you've always dreamed of. Man or woman. Young or old. Makes no difference on All Hallows' Eve.

Truth be told, people who don't enjoy a little Halloween shenanigans actually make me a bit nervous. They're like people who are really super duper nice ALL THE TIME or say that they absolutely love everyone in their family -- even Uncle Weirdo from somewhere on Mom's side. I feel like there's got to be something missing in their genetic makeup; some wishful thinking gene that, let's be honest, kinda helps you get through the more craptastic days. Personally, I revel in the make believe, fantasy, child-like quality of it all and, unlike a tutu, I'm never going to be forced to give it up. There is no expiration date on pure imagination as far as I'm concerned. Sing it loud and proud Willy Wonka! I'm a believer.

So, this Halloween, I'm wearing a fucking tutu. Because I can. This is it -- this is my slutty cop, too-short miniskirt, freak mask, psycho killer, ombre hair sporting, tiara wearing day to shine! I, for one, plan on making the most of it. You should go ahead and feel free to do the same. Consider this your official free pass from adulthood. Use it wisely. 

And by wisely I mean no pajamas in public. 'Cause that'll never be okay.