It's not Easy Being Morticia

But I pulled it off with a whole lot of work. And style and grace.... sort of.

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned that I wanted to put the costume together cheaply. Unfortunately with my height, finding a long black dress that could pass for a Morticia Addams dress was a daunting task and in the end did not turn out to be that cheap. I went to Sears and found a rack full of dresses on sale, and found a two piece outfit that may have been suitable. I walked over to the changeroom, tried it on, and it was indeed suitable to wear as Morticia.

The girl who let me into the changeroom asked how it went, and I replied with a big grin on my face "Its GREAT! I'll take it!" She looked at me, blinked 3 or four times, put on the most fake smile I have ever seen and said "Oh, that's good. Let me find a cashier for you." Meanwhile I know she was thinking 'I can't believe that girl is buying that dress!' I could have told her it was for a Hallowe'en costume, but in the end I thought it was more fun to let her think I was going to be wearing it to a wedding or Christmas party or something.

Even with the 30% discount, I still spent about $100 on the dress. It is a lot of money considering what the purpose was, but I figured it was worth it since this is the first time in 15 years I have dressed for Hallowe'en.

Bag in hand, I called Paul and squealed with glee about my new purchase. He was out in the Village with Peter, so I told him I would meet him for a quick pint and show him the dress. After showing the dress we sat at the bar and chatted about whatever it is we usually chat about. I noticed a magazine on the bar, so I started to rifle through it and saw an article titled How to be a First Time Drag Queen. Knowing that I never wear makeup or wigs or anything, Paul pointed at the article and said "Oh My God, that's going to be YOU on Hallowe'en!" I laughed because I knew he was right and because I was actually thinking the same thing.

The next barrier to my costume was finding a long black wig. I checked out a few places but they were sold out. I told my wig tale of woe to a friend of mine, and he told me of a store that usually has lots of wigs. I wandered over on my lunch and found the wig.

The last part of my costume was to get the makeup to put my finishing touches on Morticia. I stopped off at Shopper's Drug Mart after work and wandered over to the makeup section. Paul called me:
Paul: What are you doing?
Me: Picking up lipstick for my costume.
Paul: YOU are in a MAKEUP section of a store?
Me: I kind of have to be.
Paul: Oh God.
Me: I can't believe how EXPENSIVE this crap is. Why do women waste their money on it?

The conversation turned to dinner plans, which helped keep my mind off of the frustration I was feeling in choosing just the right lip colour. After multiple attempts to locate a lipstick the frustration welled up inside me and I exclaimed:
Me: How the f*** do you choose a lipstick?
Paul: I don't know, I don't wear that stuff. Hey, you are in Shoppers aren't you? Just ask the beauty consultant.
Me: Ok. I gotta go because I can't stand doing this any longer.

I hung up the phone looked over at the girl, but was too shy to ask her how to choose a lip colour. As a 39 year old woman, I should already know how to survive the makeup counter. However, I grew up with 3 older brothers and have an easier time choosing floor mats for a car.

I oscillated between the different brands of lipstick, and found a small section of ones that looked fairly red. I read the backs of them: Cherry Red, Luscious Red, Berry Red... I must be a guy trapped in a woman's body. Red is red. End of story. Again I looked back at the Shopper's girl, but I just could not admit that I didn't know how to choose a lipstick.

I decided just to try out the tester lipticks on the back of my hand. Twenty five minutes and the application of 8 or 9 different reds later, I settled on one that I thought would be suitable. I looked down at the waxy red stripes all over my hand, fruitlessly russled around in my purse for a tissue to wipe it off, and had to spend the rest of my makeup search making sure I did not get lipstick on my clothes. Picking out black eyeliner was much easier, although it took me a couple of minutes to decide between Onyx and True Black. Given my love for science fiction, it would have been much easier on me if they had one called Black Hole.

I should have gone home right after that, but I went to Paul's instead. After an evening of laughs, Coronation Street, and Jeopardy my makeup shopping hell seemed to be a dim memory. Then I realised merely owning makeup was not enough. I had to learn how to use it, too. But I was too tired, chose to go to bed, and decided to wake up early to learn how to draw the lines on my face.

Friday morning I got out of bed early, plastic bag of makeup in hand, and wandered to the bathroom mirror. I started to outline my right eye, it wasn't really that hard. I was circling around my tear duct, got too close, and my tears pulled the black colour into my eye. It turned black. I was horrified. I washed my eye out and started over. I thought to myself "How can women do this to themselves every day? This is such a pain in the ass. I would rather stay in bed and get the extra sleep, its more useful."

In the end I figured out how to apply the makeup, packaged my costume up and took it in to the office. My intention was to change into it at the office, and wear it all day to get my money's worth out of the dress, but I got paged with a system problem on the way in. I decided that my manager would most likely not appreciate me strolling to my desk 20 minutes late looking like Morticia Addams while the system was going to hell in a handbasket. I could have slept in after all.

The end of the day I went to Paul's place, and started to become Morticia. I put on the bathing cap to cover my hair under the wig, and applied the eyeliner. I walked out of the bathroom looked at Paul and said "I am the worst drag queen ever! Hey, does my eyeliner look okay?" Paul gave me a rumple faced look of confusion since it is a question he probably never thought he would hear from me.

All in all the preparations went well until I went to put on the fake long black nails I bought. The two way tape was not adhering and the nails were not sticking very well to my real nails. Then I would forget the nails were there, reach out to get something (most of the time it was my vodka tonic) and would knock a couple of the nails off. I was getting frustrated. Paul was getting sick of my whining. He wandered off, grabbed some Scotch Tape, and affixed the nails to my hands once and for all. We grabbed our things and went off to the party.

I got lots of compliments on the outfit, and things were going fairly well with the nails. Except that when you are at a party and consuming alcohol, you eventually need to pee. I went into the bathroom, looked at the back of the toilet, and saw a candle burning on it. My initial worry about how to pull my tights and panties down without losing my finger nails was no longer as big a concern. I now was fretting about ensuring I did not catch my long synthetic wig on fire. Or melting it to my skin. Melting or burning were not Hallowe'en tricks I wanted to experience. In the end I did not catch fire and only lost two nails throughout the whole ordeal. Luckily the host had some tape and I just put them back on my hands again.

After the party we were going to go to Church Street and check out the other gouls and goblins that were out for the night. But we decided against it since Paul has been ill and wanted to go to bed. I was a little disappointed, but I was also very sick of the long black wig and the nails that kept getting in the way.

We got back to Paul's place, and I spent the rest of the night watching TV, picking bits of tape off the ends of my fingers, and washing the eyeliner off my face. Being Morticia was a lot of fun. But overall I was very happy to return to my plain, simple, normal self. At least for the next 364 days.