Every year I see the same thing at Halloween parties: somebody in a gorgeous costume who can’t sit down, can’t see their own feet, and has to leave early because their shoes are eating them alive. And every year I think, if something actually happened tonight, you would be the first one we lost.
So here’s my pitch. This year, dress for the party and for the apocalypse. Pick a costume you could walk five miles in, one with pockets, one that keeps you warm, and one that makes people want to keep their distance. In a real emergency you want to scare people off, not look inviting. Some of the best costumes already do all of that, and nobody at the party has to know you’re quietly prepared.
The lost hiker
This is the best one, and I will not be taking questions. Trail runners or broken-in sneakers, a rain shell, a beanie, a backpack, and a folded trail map sticking out of a pocket. Smear a little mud on your knees and look vaguely confused about where you are. Done.
The trick is that the backpack isn’t a prop. Pack it like a real day pack: a water bottle, snacks, a headlamp, a small first aid kit, a phone charger and a whistle. A whistle carries much farther than your voice and takes less energy to use, and three short blasts is the standard call for help. If anyone asks, you’re in character. If anything goes wrong, you’re the most useful person in the room.
The zombie
Hear me out. If the dead ever do get up and start shuffling, the safest place to be might be right in the middle of them, looking like one of them. (I’ve seen enough movies to know this works at least some of the time.) And a zombie costume is basically ruined everyday clothes, which means it’s comfortable by default.
- Distress your clothes, not your gear. Rip up an old flannel, but wear real boots and real layers under it.
- Use makeup, not a mask. Masks block your side vision, which is a bad trade when you’re crossing a street in the dark. Use makeup that’s made for skin, and test it on a small patch of your arm the day before so you don’t find out about an allergy at the party.
- Skip the creepy contact lenses unless you get them from an eye doctor. In the US, decorative contacts legally need a prescription, and the cheap ones sold online and at costume shops can seriously hurt your eyes.
- Practice the shuffle, but save your knees. You can stop limping when nobody’s looking. Zombies do not get points for consistency.
The bog witch
Long layered skirts over leggings, a heavy shawl, a cloak if you have one, muddy boots, and a sash hung with little pouches of dried herbs, bones and things you’d rather not explain. Tuck some moss into your hair. It’s warm, it’s comfortable, it has more storage than most luggage, and nobody walks up to a bog witch to borrow her supplies. People take one look and step aside, which is exactly what you want.
The bag lady (or the dress that is all pockets)
Take an old dress, a long coat or an apron and cover it in pockets. Sew them on, safety-pin them on, hot-glue them on if you have to. Mismatched is the point. Add a couple of tote bags and a grocery bag or two, and fill them with things you might actually need. This is the costume of someone who carries everything she owns and has thought about every single item, and honestly, that’s the goal.
The wasteland wanderer
Layers, a long coat, a scarf you can pull up over your nose, goggles pushed up on your forehead, and a belt with too many pouches on it. It’s a whole look, and it’s also exactly how you’d dress to walk somewhere cold and dusty for a long time. Bonus: every one of those pouches is a pocket.
The haunted summer camp counselor
Camp T-shirt, a hoodie tied around your waist, shorts over leggings, sneakers, a lanyard, a whistle and a big flashlight. Write a fake camp name on the shirt. Every horror fan at the party will get it, and you’ll be the one who can actually see on the walk home.
The beekeeper
Light coveralls, gloves, a hat with a veil and a jar of honey. It covers you head to toe, it keeps bugs off, and it’s warmer than it looks. Just make sure the veil is mesh you can see through clearly. You will be tempted to keep the honey for yourself. Do it. It basically never goes bad.
Borderline: the inflatable costume
I go back and forth on these. On one hand, there’s a whole lot of material between you and anyone who wants to grab you, and nobody is going to lose track of a six-foot inflatable dinosaur. On the other hand, nobody is going to lose track of a six-foot inflatable dinosaur. You’re clumsy, you can’t fit through a door in a hurry, and the fan runs on batteries that will die at the worst possible time. Wear it for the photos and have a plan B underneath.
Save these for a different party
Look, I’m all for a costume that makes you feel powerful. If the sexy version of anything is your thing, wear it and own it. Just know it’s a bad apocalypse costume. No pockets, nowhere to put anything, and you’ll be cold by nine o’clock. Same goes for anything with heels. You cannot run in them, you cannot walk home in them, and you will be carrying them by the end of the night anyway. And the last thing you want when everything goes wrong is to look approachable.
The worst possible apocalypse costume
The bedsheet ghost. I love it. It’s a classic. It is also a full-body trip hazard with no peripheral vision, no pockets and no way to use your hands, and if you set it near a candle it turns into a whole other kind of emergency. If you have to be a ghost, cut the sheet off at the knees, make the eye holes big, and wear it over real clothes so you can ditch it fast.
The quick checklist
- Shoes you could walk five miles in. No heels. If you wouldn’t walk home in them, they’re decoration.
- Pockets, or a bag that’s part of the costume.
- Warmth. Wear real layers under the costume. It’s the end of October, and somebody is always standing outside longer than they planned.
- Something that says “stay back.” Creepy beats cute. The goal is for people to give you room.
- Something that lights up or reflects. A strip of reflective tape on a dark costume, or a flashlight that’s part of the look, so drivers can see you.
- A label that says flame resistant if you’re buying a costume, wig or fake beard, especially if there will be candles or jack-o’-lanterns around. Flame resistant doesn’t mean it can’t burn. It means it should resist catching fire and put itself out faster.
So what are you going as this year? And be honest: could you survive the night in it? Tell us in the comments. Extra credit if the costume is also your actual go-bag.
Photo by Charles Parker on Pexels