Goths Suck At Halloween
Yes, I said it, and no, I don't feel the least bit bad about it at all. My fellow goths, we are just pathetic at doing Halloween, and that is why every year for the last several I make sure to spend my favorite holiday with the normals rather than you, my black-clad fellows. The reason is simple.
Jef With One F
No doubt, goths tend to think that Halloween belongs to us. We use September and October to basically shop for the things that will hang in our houses all the rest of the year. Until the Kid With One F was born my living room was dominated by this massive industrial shelving that held one of the last big cathode ray TVs, and a complete explosion of bats, skulls, Burton figures, scarecrows, and pretty much every drop of spooktacular pop art that two goths can accumulate to themselves.
We had to lose a lot of it because we were worried the kid would pull the shelf down on herself, but all the bric-a-brac is still waiting in boxes to be displayed again.
Every goth friend we have is the same way. One couple even had an entire room that was dedicated to Halloween memorabilia, and we talked one year with local model Sarah Hill about her amazing collection of stuff. Goths like Halloween.
Correction, goths like Halloween stuff. They suck at the holiday itself.
There has not been a single Halloween I can remember where hardly anyone in the goth scene bothered with an elaborate costume that was not already part of their freakin' wardrobe. Oh, you're a sexy vampire and he's got a Nazi officer's uniform on? You wore that last month. And no more Neil Gaiman Deaths. Ever. If eye doodles and a tank top constitute a costume then fist-pumping counts as a Dragon Punch. I know times are tough and costumes are expensive, but geez.
There are bright spots, though. Asmodeus X's Paul Fredric owns a complete old-school Wolverine costume. I mean the yellow spandex one with big plastic blades. It's sort of ruined by the fact that Fredric has less berserker rage in him than a bag of Quaaludes, but at least the man has a sense of style.
Now, I'm not a big costume guy by any stretch of the imagination, and I hate to shop on top of that, but give me a $5 child's vampire mask and a dollar store Bible and I'll whip up an Evangelist Preacher Dracula costume for you. It's not elaborate, but I'll commit to the role for the evening, telling you how I overcame my need to suck blood through the power of prayer because no one is "born that way."
My wife takes the opposite route... part of her birthday present each year is me not bitching about how much she'll spend on the wig that accompanies the current year's highly screen accurate recreation of whatever character she'll be emulating. That Rocky Horror dress up tendency is a hard helix to donkey punch, you know?
Piece continues on next page.