Tonight (which you’ll notice is not Halloween if we’re going with the whole Gregorian calendar thing) is the big night for college Halloween parties in Oxford. This put me in the odd situation of wanting to celebrate actual Halloween last night…but in like, a moderate way. My going-out stamina is like my iPhone battery; it only lasts 2 nights if I’m miserly and keep the Instagramming to a minimum.
Here’s how my Halloween morning played out:
- I didn’t want to waste my actual costume (which involved dropping £15 at Primark ie. a definite over-egging of the party pudding) on last night, so opted for the classic cheapskate, zero-creativity costume: a cat. I know, I know, it makes me sick up in my mouth a little, and it was probably karma that I had such a battle finding cat ears. Claire’s Accessories and Poundland had been completely plundered; pretty much all that was left was these awful spider hairbun-toppers, overpriced gimp masks, and stupidly tiny hats on hairbands (like, little puffy wizard hats and Tim Burton-esque top hats). Actually, on second thought that could have made for a cool Kristen Wiig/Amy Poehler homage…
- I also considered reindeer antlers, but as a general rule I don’t like anything that a Prius wears better than me.
- I ended up with these daft diamonte nubbin ears from H&M kids, which I paired with a black dress and hastily-drawn eyeliner whiskers. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the one element that would have completed the ensemble: John Krasinski. Sigh.
- For the house party I armed myself with this tiny bottle of Pocket Wine. It wasn’t so much that I was being abstemious as I couldn’t be bothered to lug around a whole bottle of wine/spirits and mixer on my morning shopping expedition. If I’d been prepared, I could have gone with the wine-bra a la Mindy Lahiri or camel pack a la jolly hiker, but instead I ended up with the supplies of a nervous middle-aged traveller on a short-haul flight.
The house party:
- Despite the absence of gummy worms (I sorta though candy vermin was a Halloween staple) it was such a fun night, and a really good crowd.
- I managed to only offend 3 people in my attempts to guess their costumes. I cooed over Strawberry Shortcake, who turned out to be Sydney Bristow (thank god I didn’t go with my second guess, which was Frenchie from Grease. Pink hair’s pink hair, right?). Morticia Adams was actually just a raven-haired, ill-made up girl with a naturally dour expression. And the guy I thought was a sprightly Christmas elf was actually Robin.
- A sign of just how international Oxford is is that you meet people whose names are unusual and you just learn to roll with it. This was pretty apparent last night when after talking to a guy for almost an hour he legit said, ‘It was nice to meet you, Celery’.