Yesterday I ventured out in search of a book for my husband. Our wonderful independent bookstore, Anthology, is located on Fourth Street. Unknown to me, this weekend was Halloween Party Saturday, and there were floods of costumed kids and frazzled parents wandering up and down the streets of Loveland, searching for candy in local shops. Mini-Harry Potters, vampires of every description, and super heroes beyond counting darted out from behind cars and into the crosswalks. I slowed down, cautious, and a little impatient.
After all, I was on a mission.
Once I found a book for my man and left the bookstore, I noticed the woman next to me grinning at the kids. Suddenly, just for a moment, I wanted wear a costume and be completely free to enjoy myself, eat candy, scream and giggle. Fortunately, the moment was short-lived but the thought remained.
Then, as I drove home, I remembered my best costume ever, the inspired costume that turned heads. Of course, you understand I am not talking about a childhood costume.
The outfit itself was simple: black tights, pert short skirt, black top, adorable white apron, cuffs, headband and RED high heels. I became a gorgeous French maid. Honest. Unfortunately, the one surviving photo, the proof this costume actually existed and I actually wore it, was relegated to the dust of the universe, along with Bigfoot, flying saucers, and honest politicians.
I had such fun at that grown up Halloween party. I ate candy and giggled – in a very adult way, I assure you.
When was the last time you wore a costume and pretended, just for a while, you were someone else?
Were you someone we would recognize or a creature of your own imagination?
Come on. I know you really want to tell me.