Interesting article. My friend sent it to me and I sent it around. I thought it related to what Kelly posted. And..... IT"S THE 200th POST!!!!!!!!!
ALL I wanted was a pair of mouse ears. It is Halloween season, and to the
delight of my children, I promised to dress up as the country mouse. I was
a recent transplant to rural life, so it made sense. Besides, I already
owned the overalls and the flannel shirt. I just needed the ears. And maybe
a wedge of plastic cheese.
So my girls, 4 and 6, and I went to Target, which has much better lighting
than Wal-Mart — and Isaac Mizrahi. It wasn't long before I discovered that
the only ears on offer at the Target Festival of Fright were of the "sexy
cat" variety. Sexy cat is fine if you are in your 20's, unimaginative and
trying to persuade people that you possess latent feline qualities. As I am
neither latent nor in my 20's, I continued down the Adult Costume aisle.
I walked past the displays for the sexy devil and the sexy bunny and the
sexy leopard — which, confounding logic, was already sold out — before
happening upon the wall of full adult costumes. The first was Tavern Lady,
an off-the-shoulder dress and faux-leather vest. It was followed by French
Maid (ruffled mini-dress with matching headpiece), Cheerleader (pleated
micro-mini and fitted vest) and Wonder Woman, which had not only a nearly
invisible skirt but also red vinyl boot covers that reached to the thigh.
At $49.99, Wonder Woman was among the priciest costumes, along with the
Geisha — both $20 more than Stewardess, which consisted only of a polyester
wrap dress with a plunging neckline.
A quick trip to Wal-Mart and Kmart revealed the same dubious selections.
While the hemlines were slightly lower on the Kmart French Maid and
Cheerleader, Wal-Mart hewed to form with a saucy Red Riding Hood and a
naughty rag doll, advertising a "sultry vinyl bodice and thigh highs ...
lollipop not included."
A theme was emerging. And it wasn't Halloween. Since when did Halloween
costumes become marital aids? The hobo has turned into the Hillbilly Honey.
The traditional vampire is now the Mistress of Darkness. I have nothing
against playing erotic dress-up, or even mass-market fetishism. I'd just
prefer it didn't converge with a family holiday (and wasn't sold next to
the dryer sheets). If you want to play cheerleader at home, go team. But
trick-or-treating with your children in anything featuring latex and
cleavage seems like a little too much trick.
And really, wasn't Halloween the one day modern women could relax about
looking hot? What if I just want to be a mummy sans yummy?
I noticed that on the outside of every package was a photo of a woman
modeling not only the costume, but teetering heels and bras of the push-up
variety. The First Lady costume was not, as one might expect, a red
business suit, but a pink crepe mini-dress. At least it had the matching
pillbox hat. The angel was dubbed "heaven's hottie." Even the witch had a
slit up her tattered skirt.
My girls were confused. "Where are the monsters?" they asked. "Where are
the superheroes?" I pointed weakly to Wonder Woman and her thigh-high
boots. "She's pretty," said my 4-year-old. Before adding, "You can see her
breasts."
As I watched them scan the selections, soaking in the unspoken message, I
remembered my freshman year in college, going to a Halloween party dressed
as a pumpkin. My face was painted orange. My torso was covered in fabric
stuffed into a wide, round orb. It was not seductive. And it hadn't
occurred to me that it should be. There were no adult pumpkin costumes in
the superstores. No vegetable costumes of any sort.
We moved along the aisle. I casually searched for the male equivalent of
the Stewardess. Perhaps a Hot Fireman costume? Or maybe Handyman? But there
was no Pool Boy. No Sexy C.E.O. There were, in fact, very few men's
costumes at all. A gorilla. A generic monster. A handful of serial killers.
We gave up on the mouse ears. Walking back, I noticed in the middle of the
boas and six-inch heels and fishnets hung a Nun costume. It was a
floor-length robe with modified wimple. Unlike the other ensembles, which
offered bust and hip measurements, it was one size fits most. The price: a
modest $9.99. According to the Target Web site, it is a best seller.
Probably among men.
Allison Glock is the author of "Beauty Before Comfort" and the forthcoming
"What's in It for Me? The Myth of the Happy Wife."