A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Happy Halloween, Vamps and Vixens.

If you're anything like me, the snow on Saturday threw you for a big loop.  A loop that brought you closer to Christmas than to Halloween, so much so that you basically gave up on the idea of dressing up in costume.  In my book, Halloween was over before it began.  But in this big bad city, you can count on everyone else and their cousins from Brooklyn to celebrate a holiday like it's meant to be celebrated: by yelling in the middle of the street.

Forgot or just didn't have the energy to care about a disguise this year?  Try Violent Lips for a Halloween costume your lips will enjoy (and your mother will be terrified of).  Easy as one, two, three:

My apartment in Soho sits on a nice quiet stretch of Sixth Avenue near Prince Street, right in the middle of Father Fagan Park which I like to think of as a huge, expansive, concrete front lawn.  On ordinary days the city traffic flows steadily uptown while foot traffic is few and far between.  On Halloween, however, our sidewalk front lawn turns into festive chaos and mayhem: the sidelines of The Village Halloween Parade.  Lucky for us, our apartment faces the street and we have the best seat in the house, front row and center, two floors above the parade's starting line.  From here we can see the giant skeletons as they climb up Sixth, the troupe of walking dead Thriller dancers, and just about every unique (and not so unique) Halloween costume in Manhattan.

For apparent reasons, tonight I can't help but think about costumes and disguises.  Not the ones you can purchase for exorbitant prices at The Halloween Store on 9th and 4th, but the ones some people wear every day, in normal life.  I've met plenty of people that hide behind masks of confidence and happiness, in an effort to conceal the insecurity and darkness that lies beneath the surface.  When I met Andrew on April 7th, 2010, he was kind and incredibly friendly.  He was motivated and determined to succeed in life.  He was confident and charismatic.  But, as I found out later that year, what Andrew displayed on the outside was nothing like the true person he was on the inside.  He was a deeply conflicted person living a completely duplicitous life.  Andrew was wolf in sheep's clothing; a disguise that coincidentally started to deteriorate this time last year.

I spent Halloween '10 with Andrew, me dressed as a school girl and him as the Shake Weight guy.  Obviously his choice of costume is a big indication of just how big of an asshole he was (and most likely still is).  At a costume party in Clinton Hill, he tried as usual to be the life the party and ended up doing one keg stand too many.  At the point when he became belligerently, embarrassingly drunk, I tried talking him into leaving the party and going home.  As is usually the case when trying to reason with someone who is incoherent and completely shit faced, this conversation quickly turned into a senseless argument.  Why would we go home, he asked me, when we were having so much fun?  We? We were not having fun.  He thought he was having fun while I was keeping him steady on his feet and catching his drink every time it was dangerously close to spilling all over the floor.  I tried to make this point to him, but of course he had no idea what I was talking about.  He rolled his eyes as if I was exaggerating.  I told him to stop being so rude, to which he countered with a somewhat sobering observation: "Sometimes I just wish I was free."  Wished he was free?  Of me? I remember my mouth falling open, looking into his eyes, totally stunned.  Whatever was said after that moment remains a blur.  I'm sure that I must have told him to sober up and realize what he said to me.  I'm sure I must have reasoned with myself that it was only the alcohol talking.   In the morning, sober, Andrew promised me he didn't mean what he had said at all--he didn't know he had even said it.  That morning I believed him.  Why, I don't know.  I was still so in love with him that I wanted to believe him.  Knowing what I know now, of course, I should have listened more carefully.  After Halloween, Andrew's sheep costume was worse for wear, and his wolf was starting to show.  By December, I would no longer recognize him as the man I fell so easily in love with.

xoxo,
Pretty