My Halloween costume is perfect—but does it comply with the Sarasota Magazine dress code?
By Hannah Wallace
This past week was filled with so many great experiences that I couldn’t decide what to write about: My meditative post-work jog on Lido Beach, followed by a post-jog, fully clothed swim? Our Saturday night gourmet feast at Beach Bistro? Our Sunday night trip to game seven of the ALCS at the Trop? I mean, I could go into more detail, but I feel bad rubbing your noses in my wondrous activities.
So instead, let me focus on making a jackass of myself.
I am so excited for Halloween. First of all, it’s on a Friday, which opens the evening up to all kinds of dubious potential. Secondly, I already have my pumpkin-carving idea, which will transform an innocent Pier One decoration into something gruesome and more Halloween-appropriate. We’ll even be making Halloween treats I saw in a Pillsbury cookbook—pigs in a blanket, which I love anyway, but wrapped like mummies! With little mustard eyes! Isn’t that fantastic?! (Also, candy! Leads to exclamation points! Apparently!)
And last but most important, the costumes: CCB’s dressing as…wait for it…Tony Stewart—do you see it? That’s how I described CCB’s appearance to my sisters before they met him. (Ever do that, try to describe people using celebrities?)
Oh yes, we had our own little photo shoot.
In fact, I’m pretty proud of the costumes I’ve devised for other people. I take full credit for convincing Little J and Big J to go as Laurel and Hardy a couple of years ago—a masterpiece, as you can see:
No, where I usually run into trouble is coming up with a costume for myself. But not this year! I have finally realized the ideal Halloween combination of simplicity, a personal tie-in and all-important ridiculousness. I will, at long last, realize my longtime nickname. Oh yes, I will be Hannah Banana.
I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Lord knows I’ve heard it enough. I guess I got accustomed to pushing the rhyme from my mind. All of a sudden, it’s perfect. Call it new-found confidence. And the $35 costume is totally worth it, especially when you consider the durability of the idea. I mean, my name will always be Hannah.
Problem is, our Halloween plans have fallen through, so it’s very likely I’ll spend the evening all alone inside my banana, watching Donnie Darko and giving the neighborhood kids a real scare. (“This…could be you…at 30! Muah hah hah!”) Nah, it’ll be fun. Maybe I’ll head to Mattison’s, get my first drink free for wearing a costume. Heck, who wouldn’t give a drink to a girl in a big banana suit?
But here’s the real issue: Copy Editor Megan is dying to see me wear the banana to work. I love the idea of being one of those people who can be over-the-top like that, walk into the office all straight-faced and “…what?” On the other hand, it only takes one little bit of doubt to blow the whole banana stand, and my neurotic self can’t do Zen anyway, much less when I’m wearing a day-glow fruit getup. And then my workday will be all banana panic and bedlam.
Help me out here—should I do it? If Copy Editor Megan promises to wear her tutu, I might not feel so bad. And tell me, are other adults out there still excited about dressing up for Halloween? What’s your costume?