Halloween Die-ary #2
Early September is the weirdest part of the long Halloween
Season. The calendar flips, I jump in with both feet and a changed attitude toward
life, and then September 2, September 3, September 4 happen, and—especially if
they’re weekdays with the day spent at work—I wonder, what should I be doing to
celebrate? Like, there’s stuff I definitely want to do, certain special movies
and foods and activities I’ve been looking forward to all year, but should I run
through those already or save them for deeper into the season? Or a weekend? Also,
is it hotter than yesterday? And am I really celebrating if my decorations aren’t
up?
And then sometimes I decide, tonight’s not a Halloween
night. I’m not going to force it. And as much as I want to watch The Scream Team
on Disney+, I want to be in the right mindset and make more an event out of it
when I do. So instead of contriving Halloween that evening, I work on my horror
novel. Practice my Cursed Objects presentation. Read a few chapters of a
spooky book. Watch an episode of The X-Files. All while surrounded by
year-round items that include plastic skeletons and horror movie posters and
toy monsters.
Wait. Did I just celebrate a Halloween night on accident? Because
if so, that means I celebrate Halloween year-round. But I know I don’t.
It’s a fine line between spooky and Halloweeny, sure. But what
is that line?
1. The Color Orange. Show me your black walls with your bat
sconces and skulls set just so-so on your coffin-shaped bookshelves, and I’ll just
think you’re ooky. Death imagery is an aesthetic all its own. You can be into it
and hate Halloween. Kind of like all the Big Bads in Buffy. Conversely, you can
love all the orange—the pumpkins and leaves and candy corn—and hate horror
movies and visits to graveyards.
2. Ephemeral Decorations. If your creepy decorations are made
of paper and cheap plastic that only last a season or few, that might be
Halloween. As ephemeral as a chilly nights. As harvest. As a rotting pumpkin or
decaying corn maze. It’s the difference between an elegant stone statue of a
raven, and a cardboard banner of ravens that spell out the word Halloween. Of
course, these days, Halloween decorations are becoming more elaborate and more
permanent-seeming, to the point that buying one can feel too much like a commitment.
I regularly find myself with something that’s too nice to store in a box for
ten months out of the year, but not something I want to adjust my permanent décor
around.
3. Everybody Else. You know people who celebrate Halloween
year-round (I mean, like in a Point 1 and 2 kind of way)? They still get
excited come Fall and October. Why? Weather change, sure, but that’s not
automatic for everyone in the country. It’s really because now everybody else
is celebrating too. It’s one thing to carve a jack-o-lantern. It’s another
thing to carve one with friends who aren’t into spooky stuff usually. Or to see
a primetime commercial with Universal Monsters as spokescreatures. Or an
inflatable ghoul on your neighbor’s lawn.
Watching a spooky movie is watching a spooky movie. Reading a horror novel is reading a horror novel. Hanging a painting of a skull is hanging a painting of a skull. But doing any of that surrounded by glowing orange jack-o-lanterns or temporary cotton spiderwebs or with people who normally wouldn’t do so, that makes it Halloween. Maybe.
