The Absolute Panic of the Last-Minute Halloween Costume by Nandita Kamalakannan

 The Absolute Panic of the Last-Minute Halloween Costume by Nandita Kamalakannan

Every September, the exact same delusion takes over. You see the Halloween decorations hit the

store shelves, and you immediately convince yourself that this is the year you are going to go all

out. You and your friends start a dedicated group chat. You make a highly ambitious Pinterest

board for a cinematic, perfectly coordinated group costume. You have a vision, and you have

exactly two months to execute it.

Fast forward to the night of October 30th. You have twelve dollars, a half-empty stick of hot

glue, and absolutely zero artistic ability. The group chat is in complete shambles because three

people backed out, and now your elaborate six-person Avengers concept has been reduced to just

you and one other friend trying to figure out how to make cardboard look like armor.

This is the official start of the Last-Minute Costume Scramble, a tradition honored by high

schoolers everywhere.

When you reach this level of desperation, your standards completely evaporate. You end up

standing in front of your open closet for an hour, aggressively trying to justify normal, everyday

clothing as a valid costume. You hold up a red flannel shirt and think, "If I carry around a

cardboard tube, I’m a lumberjack." You put on a pair of sunglasses and a black hoodie and

declare yourself a secret agent. Or, if you hit rock bottom, you just wear your regular clothes,

carry a coffee cup, and tell everyone your costume is "an exhausted student running on three

hours of sleep." (It’s not creative, but it is deeply historically accurate).

Part of the problem is that we are in the awkward purgatory of Halloween ages. We are

technically too old to unironically knock on a neighbor’s door and demand a fun-size Snickers

without getting a judgmental stare, but we still desperately want an excuse to dress up, hang out,

and eat an unhealthy amount of sugar for one night.

So, as we head into the final countdown before Halloween, I wish you all the best of luck. May

your hot glue dry quickly, may your cardboard props hold together for at least two hours, and if

all else fails, just throw a white bedsheet over your head with two eye-holes cut out. It’s a classic

for a reason.