- Weekly Need
Last Minute Halloween Costumes for the Middle-Aged
Unhinged Soccer Dad Demon
This costume is easy to make at home, requiring only an XL men’s athleisure wear track suit (those boasting a certain European flair are most convincing), wide white sneakers and a judgmental scowl reserved for nervous teenage referees. The walk is important to perfect; practice pacing up and down a “sideline” (your office hallway will do, after hours), waving your arms maniacally, occasionally throwing them heavenward in a gesture of biblical horror.
Lunchtime Foil Goblin
For those adults with severe time constraints and an addiction to multi-tasking, the lunchtime foil goblin is a no brainer. Keep your usual appointment with the patient stylist who is paid to disguise the age of your highlights every 4 weeks. Without warning, flee the industrial circa 1964 dryer chair in a panic to feed the parking meter four flights below the haven of the salon, trailing miniature foil wrappers in your wake. Ignore terrified sidewalk passers-by who mistake your salon smock for a Dracula cape and your tin encased head as a brain injury accessory.
“What Now” Trustafarian Troll
It’s been years since everyone in your community figured out you had a trust fund, and your organic fig pancake business was just a bourgeois hobby. Now that the truth is out, revel in your lack of actual need! Wear your casual dad outfit with smug pride only the entitled appreciate: jeans that cost more than your neighbor’s stove, Vineyard Vines tee faded just right, and accessorize with that Rolex everyone once thought was a corporate gift but now know wasn’t.
Don a blue apron that screams Sears in a desperately outdated font. Add a pair of khakis and a hopeless expression and wander the abandoned aisles filled with merchandise no one wants (remember when we called it “merchandise?”) and clerks (clerks!) who can’t tell you a damn thing. Bonus – the candy is 75% off.
Trainwreck Trophy Wife
Choose from any weekday outfit that says, I plan to work out at some point today, or… maybe I already have. Tote the largest, latest, most obscene cell phone possible, scream into it repeatedly so everyone at Neiman’s knows it works, and charge it in the most delusional non-hybrid European SUV that hasn’t yet been deemed illegal. Cancel all plans for trick or treating mischief when you realize you need a pedicure, and you accidentally ate a bagel yesterday.
Angry Volunteer Witch
Wear those mom jeans and casually half-tucked cashmere sweater from Marshalls with pride, and top off with your daughter’s Uggs (newsflash: she’s right; they do look better on her and you should be embarrassed.) Mutter under your breath every time someone underbids on a fundraising auction item you worked really hard to secure, and violate the school zone speed limit with reckless abandon on your way home from the PTA meeting where you literally did everything for those ungrateful bitches. Vodka tumbler optional.
Barely Holding-it-Together Uncle
Halloween is the perfect opportunity for you to practice being with your siblings for Thanksgiving and Christmas, which are, regrettably, right around the corner and full of potential below-the-belt minefields of passive aggressive family affection. Since you’re on your fourth failed startup and third divorce, clever costumes aren’t exactly top of mind. Just wear what you had on for the last court appearance.
Swashbuckling Internet Profiteer You Knew In High School
A virtual costume requiring only a clearly decades-old photo of someone you maybe talked to at a dance sophomore year who is now selling juice cleansers / CBD beauty products / a jewelry line made from recycled chopsticks / something you don’t understand but made them rich working from home. Issue friend requests and LinkedIn network connects to anyone with a pulse.
Siri-Codependent Working Mother
Just wear anything really, half gardening outfit, half client meeting, your daughter’s Uggs, whatever the cat hasn’t recently slept on. Drive recklessly as you Bluetooth-bark commands like, “Siri, make a shopping list for onions, a Tide pen, and tampons” and “Text John, ‘please get home by 6 to let the dogs out because they poo’ed yesterday semicolon check the updated soccer carpool list comma Julie needs a paper-mâché Jupiter by Thursday and FYI Halloween is tomorrow comma can you get some candy and we are out of tequila.’” Hit send. Repeat as needed after fucking Siri misspells “Jupiter" over and over.