All the world is a stage on the 31st

The Halloween season is upon us. I know this because the last time I did my grocery shopping I mistakenly ended up in an aisle populated by racks of shiny, satin princess dresses. Looking for the cereal I was attacked by mutant superhero costumes that looked like pyjamas on steroids. I jest.

Halloween can be a rather messy business, what with the slimy entrails of pumpkins and cotton-batting spider web, so who would argue with the simplicity of a costume that comes on a hanger? Not I. My boys have used and re-used various combinations of Spider-Man, Batman, and Luke Skywalker costumes so often that the nylon has become like a second skin to them. And I am especially fond of those all-in-one furry animal costumes that, in addition to making our kids look unbearably cute, also ensure that the children do not freeze whilst trick-or-treating.

However, there is an aspect of theatre and drama to Halloween night that is not served well by costumes bought off the rack at the grocery store. Halloween night should feel a little like the opening night of a high school musical. The cloud-scudded night sky is the backdrop to the neighbourhood stage and the costumes should have the feel of an outfit created especially for that night and no other. It is a night for playing dress-up, with the difference that once “dressed-up� the children have someplace to go. All those houses full of admiring neighbours who are eager to “ooh� and “ah� over the knights, dragons, and princesses coming to their door.

I do not go in for big, elaborate costumes (which, in my experience, impede the rapidity with which kids can accumulate candy), and I cannot sew. Mark that down as a strike against my winning the Mother of the Year Award. However, I treat the Value Village and the VON store like I used to treat my grandmother’s closets. Those closets were a veritable treasure trove of costume jewelry, shawls, and hats, and so is the VON. My daughter joins me on hunting expeditions throughout the charity shops of the West Island for the props and accessories required in the creation of Robin Hoods and Crocodile Hunters.

On Halloween night our living room becomes the backstage; the dressing rooms of illusion. For one night, and one night only, I become a dab hand with the make-up brush and the glue gun, and, frankly, it is easy to create an illusion when the only lighting available is flickering jack-o-lanterns, porch lights, and moonlight. The outcome may not look very grand to adult eyes, but this is a play staged for the children. The illusion is for their benefit, not for our photo album, and for a night they are costumed for bravery and beauty.