What Are You Supposed To Be?

I had the fortune of experiencing Halloween in the midst of as much student enthusiasm and ardour the residents of Castle Irwell could muster. The event was celebrated with both introductory and closing fireworks; in fact, they continue on even now. And despite all honest intent on my part, I did end up particpating in the Pav's Tuesday night Halloween bash.

The Pav is an endless fount of human interaction--or more accurately, student interaction, which is all the more interesting. I could probably charge sociologists a pound for entry and earn enough to make up for my bi-weekly trip to the Tesco. The fact that last Tuesday was everyone's annual opportunity to live out some fantasy or another via costume only made for a more interesting night than usual.

With Halloween in full swing, I still hadn't bothered to find a costume and I was prepared to forego celebrations. Howevever, by ten o'clock and with the Pav's familar bass line thumping in the near background, I decided I might actually regret missing out on Halloween in England and went in search of a costume.

Within twenty minutes I had impressively collected a variety of odds and ends my house mates weren't using or that I already owned. I managed a respectable costume and made a fashionably late arrival at the Pav.

The traditional idea of a costume is clothing that is worn to portray the individual as some character or type of character other than the regular persona. With this in mind, observing the antics at the Pav was interesting, to say the least.

I'm always curious as to why people choose the costumes they do. There is inevitably something that draws an individual to create a persona other than his true identity. Or is it that people tend to be drawn to something that will express some aspect of the true, but unexpressed, identity. Regardless, students are some of the most enthusiastic Halloweeners around. Is it to say that students are hopelessly in touch with their childish side; or perhaps university students thrive on creation, immitation and--undoubtedly--a chance for a party? Fantasy and imagination are at the heart of Halloween celebrations, particulary those enjoyed by anyone "too old for Halloween" in the conservative sense.
There are the guys living out a night as their boyhood heroes--Supermen, Batmen, athletes and debonair characters of strength and charm.

There are the girls that will unashamedly take the year's single opportunity to defy all believable hem lengths, wearing dresses originally intended as shirts, lingerie, shorts originally intended as underwear, lingerie, plunging necklines, and even--believe it or not-- lingerie.

And there is always a minority representation of guys who choose to dress as girls. I was torn between who was most disturbing: the guy that pulled off the feminine version of himself with absolute ease and conviction, or the guy that wouldn't let go of his "breasts" because...well, he was just really excited to have a pair at his disposal?
My favourite costume of the night goes to one indivual wearing a giant, cardboard box--his head out the top and his arms out the sides. About midway down, nearing below the belt territory was written in thick, black marker: May Contain Nuts. Points for originality and bonus points for irony. And kudos to him for posing even the possibility of doubt that his package was sans nuts.

After considering the Pav's Halloween patrons, it's safe to say that often costumes are chosen to exaggerate some aspect of a charater...or lack thereof

(case study A: the guy that loves his "breasts").

And after two months here, I've witnessed several occasions deemed costume-worthy by the British, including birthdays, stags, theme nights, parties and "just because." They will dress up for anything.

Call it escapism, but who doesn't need a chance to give reality the slip every once and awhile?
I would venture to say that Halloween anywhere is as much a celebration as it is an excuse to get up in fancy dress--the hopelessly lame English version of a "costume." Any Brit will jump at the chance to dress up; but then again, so will most North Americans and even the Euros at the Pav were game for the festivities--except for Dimitris the Greek. He went as, well, Dimitris the Greek. And as for myself: well, I went as a devil. Go figure.