Halloween is next Wednesday, and I want to use this opportunity to give a lecture that I think a lot of parents forget to give their college-bound children: please stop objectifying ordinary things—especially animals that have ears—and then calling yourself a “sexy” whatever.
My parents didn’t even need to give me that talk because I’m the kind of person who learns from the mistakes of others, but it appears that many of my college friends assume Halloween is the one day a year you can wear lingerie that exploits anything from service occupations to historical figures.
I’m not even kidding. I once saw an attempt at a sexy pineapple scurrying around campus at 2 a.m. in the pouring rain followed by her sexy posse, which included a sexy cop and sexy Satan. Yes, a tropical fruit, an emblem of public brutality and the dark lord himself all wandered around mindlessly, unwilling to admit that they wish they had chosen more weather-friendly costumes. Or, perhaps a different variation of their current outfit or a different costume altogether. But alas, bundling up is a terrifying thought when you want someone named Chad who just pounded three Red Bulls to be impressed by your costume.
I don’t know why sexy Halloween bothers me so much, and I am easily a hypocrite for criticizing it because I definitely do not have a clean track record. Once, “to be funny,” I wore a super short skirt and a pilgrim hat and called myself a sexy pilgrim. Then there was the time I went as Eve, which required nothing but my old, nude ballet leotard and taping leaves to naughty parts of my body. At least my renditions were creative, and I didn’t try to undermine the reason I was doing it.
Going off of that, the behavior that most people exhibit on Halloween is remarkable.
There is something about this day which makes people like myself think they can turn into complete dunces, get away with it and act with unrelentless self-confidence. I started young, luring in my middle school crush to watch a horror film with hopes that he would snuggle up to me like boys did on Disney Channel shows. It didn’t happen—that is, until I learned to be more aggressive—but I didn’t care. My confidence was still deliriously elevated “because it was Halloween,” and I had a massive sugar high from all the 3 Musketeers bars flowing through my veins.
To this day, for 364 days a year, I want to walk around with a paper bag over my head and ignore as much human interaction as possible. Enter Halloween, when I, along with thousands of other college-aged people, turn that paper bag into something confident, something sexy, and vie for the attention of Red Bull Chad.
A sexy paper bag over one’s head is perhaps the sexiest thing one can be on this blessed day of candy and spookiness. My advice to you is that if you choose to go the sexy route, please wear a jacket between parties or wherever you go that would require being outdoors for more than 10 seconds. There is nothing sexy about getting pneumonia the next day.
Unfortunately, I’m speaking from experience.
Sophia Yakumithis doesn’t even go here. She is spending the semester as a recluse, boasting exceptionally high cheekbones and listening to a lot of Arctic Monkeys.