The gypsy that I was

The last several Halloweens I've pulled out all the stops to put together unique, detailed costumes. It has become a point of pride. A personal quest. A fun way to spend October afternoons in the pursuit of the finishing piece that will take my get-up from effective to exquisite. This year's crowning jewel was a 1970's multi-colored leather patchwork hat. You may wonder how a fashion misstep like that could be a coup, unless you already knew I was planning to dress up as Stevie Nicks.

It began with a jacket found on a secondhand store rack. A blue suede jacket with combed sherpa collar and cuffs. "I could be a rocker chick!" I thought to myself as I admired the flamboyance of the fluff, relieved to have finally found costume inspiration. Somehow that generic rocker chick morphed into Stevie and my Halloween costume hall of fame welcomed a wild-hearted gypsy to the mix. I finished off the outfit with a black tank top silkscreened with tiger eyes and single red rose, a long, tiered skirt constructed of the finest mauve velveteen and high-heel red boots with rows of silver buckles from here 'til Tuesday.

The reaction to the costume was overwhelmingly positive with about a 70% success rate in people identifying my interpretation of the Stevester, though some didn't recognize me as me since my short red hair had been replaced by kinky blondeness. (Hallelujah for Halloween, the one time of year I can have long hair.) Those who recognized me and my assumed identity greeted me with raspy serenades of "Just like a white-winged dove..." and with inquiries such as, "Hey Nictate, did you know it only thunders when it rains?"

I "was" the tamborine-toting nymph at a party on Saturday night and at work on Monday, the official holiday. Being one of only four that bothered to bust out a costume out of 100 employees, at times during the day I felt foolish. Especially when my fake towhead tresses started to itch like a mother. But I saw the day through, not wigging out until I was safely in the confines of my car on the way home.

All in all, I knew I had done good that day. In fact, one rocker dude at the office came up to me in the copy room and said, "I wish you would dress like that every day. It makes me smile."

Mission accomplished.