Category Projects

Swamp Witch: A Halloween Costume Retrospective

 

This was not my first costume choice; when I had started thinking about costumes back in September, I had originally settled on Medusa. I wasn’t quite sure where I wanted to go with the costume, because the story has been told so many different ways–that she was created a monster, that she was beautiful and was turned into a monster as punishment, that she is both beautiful and terrible to gaze upon–there were a few different ways I could take it. I also considered going in all white like a crumbling statue of Medusa.

I discussed it with a friend who said she didn’t know if I should go as the Quasimodo of the Greeks, we had a good laugh, and I ordered a wig and some bendable rubber snakes from ebay. I don’t know if you’re aware, but rubber snakes are one of those items you see EVERYWHERE until the day that you need some, in which case you will discover that no store you can think of sells them. No toy stores, no general goods stores with toy aisles, no dollar stores. I searched high and low and nary a rubber snake could be found, which is why I resorted to ebay. I figured if I couldn’t pick and choose the snakes in person, my best bet was to get something wired and bendable so I could make a proper headdress, as I don’t have the materials/talent to sculpt the sort of thing I was envisioning.

When the snakes arrived, disappointment didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. They may have been 24″ long (MAYBE) but they were very skinny and molded into a tightly-coiled shape. They weren’t wired or bendable in any fashion, and if they were pulled out of their coil shape, they looked ‘off’ and snapped back into place. I didn’t want to risk ordering something else and have it not live up to my expectations with time ticking away on the clock, and I knew that there was no way I could put these coiled snakes on my head without looking foolish, cheap, and like a half-assed, snakey Princess Leia. So, Medusa was scrapped. But what to do? I had already bought a non-returnable wig and didn’t much relish the idea of it going to waste, but none of my other ideas would work with it. Part of my problem was that I wanted something recognizable–it sucks going to a lot of work and having no one be able to guess what you’re supposed to be, which is why I have focused heavily on movie recreations/interpretations in the past–but I have also found that to be incredibly frustrating because there aren’t bodies like mine in films and if there are, schlubby comic relief characters NEVER get good costumes because they’re fat. So I stomped around, frustrated, for a week. My friend Kevin apologized to me no less than three times over the course of that week because he had encouraged me to go with Medusa over the other options I’d been considering and he felt like it was his fault that I was in costume fail territory already. I didn’t personally feel like there was blame or fault to be issued, except in the case of the lying liepants liarton ebay snakeoil sellers. I huffed out to have dinner one night, and on my drive, I continued to ponder my options. All at once, it hit me. I didn’t HAVE to do something that’s been done, I could create something of my own and run with it–see how well I could execute something that lived only in my head.

I decided on a swamp witch, something disgusting and foul and looked as if it might stink. The way I expanded on the idea was that the more this witch used her powers, the more she lost aspects of herself to the creatures around her, so I wanted to do patches of alligator skin, one alligator claw hand, and, in an ideal world where I could afford black sclera contacts, part of the face, at least around one eye, with a built-up brow and cheek. I don’t live in that world, so I skipped the face, and this is what I ended up with:

71947_450570803939_4480762_n

72743_450570793939_4578403_n

As far as the makeup goes, I like how well the bags turned out under the eyes. To my eye, they are pretty convincing. I used a couple of cream shadows and a couple of different liner pencils and blended and layered–I feel like I nailed the highlight to make it look swollen. The dot bits I could take or leave. I didn’t have a point of reference for voodoo makeup and as a result, it’s just kind of meh, but I felt like the face would be too plain without it. I really, really should have made a cast of my hand. It would have made the whole thing look better, because there wouldn’t be missing patches on the fingers, visible edge lines along the knuckles, and the claws could have had a more natural starting place from the finger instead of sitting on top of the nail. However, with a cast, I was caught up on the idea of making the prosthetic appliance with GM foam as it’s light and breathable, and that wasn’t going to happen, as it turns out that GM foam gives off sulfurous fumes while it’s curing that leech into the oven and destroy it for food preparation, and while my almond-colored oven from the 70s probably does need to die in a stinky fashion, it wouldn’t be wise to kill something on which I rely so heavily for sustenance–if I had to switch to a raw diet, I might kill someone. Incidentally, this is also why I haven’t been able to do Dick Smith’s study-at-home makeup course, because I don’t have access to a ruinable oven.

Instead, I made the prosthetic appliances with thin layers of liquid latex brushed onto a mold made with apoxie sculpt.

The first mold I made, on the lower right, was a positive mold that churned out that piece of crap on the lower left. I hadn’t given the mold-making process as much thought as was warranted, and realized AS I was coating it in latex that the latex would fill the crevices and with enough layers, it would result in a flat appliance, not the bumpy one I was looking for. Crap in a handbasket. Once I peeled off Latex Disaster #1, I started on a new, negative mold (upper right) that would give me something closer to the results I wanted (upper left). I was still able to use Latex Disaster #1 to give the side of my hand/bottom of my wrist some texture, so it wasn’t a total waste. Once the latex was applied, I colored it with Ben Nye cream makeup and brushed some darker powder across the top to pick up the details and texture. Were I to do it again, I think I would go for a darker green than ‘Frankenstein’, but as it is, my makeup supply is low on greens and this worked well enough. The claws were made out of apoxie sculpt, painted with nail polish, and glued to fake nails which were glued on top of my natural nails. I had thought about doing claws that capped my fingers, and while I still think those would ultimately look better, my concern was that if they were tightly capped and bonded with my nails, that I would not be able to get them OFF and an alligator hand is inconvenient enough for ONE day, much less days and weeks until they eventually grow off. I didn’t realize how much I use my non-dominant hand until it becomes impossible to do things like type or text or open car doors or turn a steering wheel without getting a claw caught in the opposite sleeve, pulling at the natural nail which is SO painful…they did make a pretty awesome clicking sound when tapped, though.

As for the costume itself, I really winged it. I didn’t want to use a pattern, and I think that both helped and hindered me–I was able to make something that was really mine, but at the same time, I would move to a new portion of the costume and be daunted all over again about how I was going to accomplish it, which would cause me to procrastinate which makes creative problems WORSE, not better. I wandered around the fabric store until I found some materials that seemed right–some medium weight black burlap, some scale-print vinyl, some novelty halloween ‘rotted’ material, some gauze, and some muslin with an assload of dye. I wanted something that would be very textured, because in my opinion, the thing most lacking in purchased costumes is texture (and I get WHY it’s that way–expense would go up and people are cheap). I dyed the crap out of that muslin, with browns, blacks, greens, and grays, each not enough to coat the entire amount of fabric solidly, so I ended up with variations in color and tone that were really pleasing and gave it the gross, aged look I was going for. It is REALLY hard to capture on camera, but I promise that in person, it had depth.

149422_450570728939_5643141_n 76125_450570883939_4537679_n 75731_450570873939_3528851_n

I started with the corset-y top–I did a layer of the snake vinyl under the rotted material–the holes in the rotted material alone would have otherwise rendered me indecent. Once that was done, I laced it onto my duct tape doppelganger and began work on the burlap underskirt. I wasn’t sure at first how I’d feel about burlap. It’s kind of scratchy and it smells funny. But once I got a skirt shape pinned on and began to pull threads and cut out sections and weather it, it felt almost more like sculpting with fabric than it did like sewing. Pull a thread here, and it ruches the skirt. Pull twenty threads here and it makes part of it look worn and threadbare without compromising structural integrity because burlap is so damn strong. It was at this time that I also decided to cover a pair of flats in burlap, because it would make the costume look complete to have shoes that match instead of assuming that no one would see the shoes anyway. Once the shoes were complete, I began work on the second layer of the skirt. After ripping and tearing at the hem, I felt like it didn’t look old/gross enough, AND it obscured a lot of the awesome things about the underskirt, so I began ripping at the whole thing in earnest. I discovered that staple removers are awesome for tearing holes and making runs in fabric, and after a while, the skirt looked a bit more like I had pictured it in my head. I planned the skirts to be high-waisted and hit about mid-calf, and it’s a damn good thing I did, but more on that later.

I was at this point the day before the Halloween party, with a shrug left to construct with two purposes–to cover bra straps, and to make the transition into the alligator hand seamless by hiding everything to the wrist. I was so exhausted after the last night at the haunt that I couldn’t focus to work on it, so I sent myself to bed and set my alarm for early in the morning so if, god forbid, there were problems with the costume, I’d have time to fix them before the party AND affix/makeup the appliances.

It was a damn good thing I got up at 3am to work on it. I’d mentioned earlier that my dress form was now bigger than my actual body, but I figured with the lacing I’d done up the sides that I wouldn’t have a problem, because the top was too small for the form, so it should be just right on me….right? No. Of course not. I wiggled the dress off my imitation duct tape Butt of Doom, slipped it on, tied up the sides…and the dress fell straight off, faster than a prom dress in June. Fuuuuuuuuuuudge, it was much, much too big. The way I fixed it was by bringing in the corset part, dropping it to be the waist portion, and making a whole new top with straps so I wouldn’t have to worry about popping out of it. Had I made the skirts longer than midcalf, this would have been a HUGE problem as they now barely grazed the floor and if I’d done them floor-length before, I would have had to chop off the bottoms of both skirts and re-weather them which would would have taken me a long time. Still, between fixing the top, making the shrug, and applying the makeup, I worked straight through from 3am up until it was time to go to the party…which means I burned out at the party fairly early on. By 10pm, I was dragging. By 10:30, I had made myself a deal that as soon as the costume contest was over, I would go straight home. By 11, I was thinking I should just leave because there was no way I was going to be a finalist ANYWAY, much less win anything, but I dragged so much at actually leaving that it got to be 11:45 and I figured if I didn’t wait the extra fifteen minutes and found out later I was a finalist, I’d be pissed at myself.

As it turns out, I was one of the three finalists in the ‘scariest’ category, and while I didn’t win it, I’m glad to have at least gotten some recognition for my work. Of course, now that it’s been worn once, I don’t know WTF to do with it. I don’t want to throw it away, but it’s doubtful that I’ll ever wear it again.

149896_1702973297193_6080480_n

Catchin’ up!

Yesterday, I made my first latex prosthetic appliances for my halloween costume. I am not thrilled with how they turned out, but I get why they turned out the way they did, so at least there’s that. I’m not quite sure how to make new ones to get the effect I’m looking for–this is something that would’ve been better created with GM foam if only I had the oven and tolerance for sulfurous fumes Just figured it out. Reverse mold, not positive mold. Either I will make new molds tonight or I will fudge the makeup with some other technique on Saturday–the important thing is that I finish the actual costume first and focus on the less-important things later because right now, y’all, I need sleeves. I am anti-sleeveless. I will probably be working like mad on Friday/Saturday, but that’s really nothing new. This month has been insanely busy, even moreso than usual, but I’ll get everything done. I always do.

Tonight and tomorrow are my last nights at the haunt, I can’t believe how soon it’ll be over/how much fun I’ve had! One of the guys there gave me his card and maybe we’ll work togther on future projects, which is pretty exciting. His gore work is AMAZING and there’s a lot I could learn from him.

Pumpkin Stabbing the Six Six Sixth: Well gang, it’s been a bang!

It has become tradition for me to have a pumpkin-carving party every year, the weekend before Halloween, born out of my desire to have a Halloween-themed party and not have to actually compete with everyone else’s superior Halloween parties in better homes than mine. This annual event involves tromping through a pumpkin patch to find the most stupendous squash to mangle. The number of participants has always varied, but historically it’s been ten or less. This year, I had twenty people tell me they were coming, and I began to panic a little. Where will I put everyone? How will I FEED everyone? (For some reason, it is very important for me to feed people. I worry about people leaving my home and thinking I am a poor hostess because I did not consider their comfort when they were in my care. It might be a midwest thing–we don’t break out the ‘l’ word very often, but if we stuff you like a grizzly preparing for winter, you have a pretty good idea about how we feel about you.)

In the grip of “How will I feed everyone” panic, I began cooking and prepping the day before in a frenzy. Over twenty apples dipped in boiling water to remove wax, rolled in caramel, decorated with white chocolate spiderwebs and then dipped again in dark and milk chocolate and various toppings. Cupcakes made with fresh-grated pumpkin. Pumpkin seed brittle made from the seeds of the pumpkins I just grated. Crab dip made and poured into a brain-shaped mold. Several pounds of chicken chopped up and marinated to make walnut-rolled chicken nuggets the day of. Fresh-made cider warming on the stove. Italian beef prepped for the crockpot at 5am the day of. Black bean guacamole. Pastry-wrapped brie. A bleu & cream cheese log. In addition to this, Kirsti brought cupcakes she made, Emily brought a crockpot of chili primero and the fixings for her special margaritas, Tristan brought a pumpkin-bourbon cheesecake, Aisling brought a wonderful bean dip, and Rebecca brought spanakopita.

Sleep-starved on the day of, I began moving my living room furniture into my bedroom, and particularly struggled when it came to the moving of the couch. Even with the addition of monster fur and glitter vinyl, it is still at its heart an Ikea couch and thus made from the lightest, cheapest materials on planet Earth, and should have been a piece of cake to drag from one room to the other. Not so. I huffed and puffed and heaved and ho’d, and when the couch finally gave way, it rammed into my foot with surprising speed and ripped up my big toenail, which is a pain that sucks more than I can even begin to describe. Two Hello Kitty bandaids held me together for the day but I limped around like a racehorse looking for a place to be shot. I’m still limping around that way, and I hope this doesn’t take too long to heal or it’s going to put some serious cramping on my style.

I could have rocked back and forth on the carpet, weeping like the world’s fattest baby, for quite some time, but one, I was bleeding and didn’t want to have another mess to clean, and two, the dog tried to cram his tongue down my throat in an effort to comfort me which only made things worse, and three, I still needed to get stuff done and complaining and bleeding wasn’t going to accomplish these things.

Earlier in the month, I had picked up this battered guy from a Goodwill for a few bucks:

It was chipped all over and the paint was grungy in a way that a scrubbing wouldn’t fix, so I decided to repaint it entirely and give it a couple of clear coats to give it a nice shine and hopefully prevent it from ever getting that dirty again. I also painted the nails with glow-in-the-dark paint, which is not really a detail that would go noticed by many people, but I’m still glad I did it.

68740_446702158939_1634555_n

All of this was because I had big plans for the brain-shaped crab dip. That brain mold has been the bane of my existence since I bought it for my mad science birthday party in the hopes of having a mess of gelatin organs sitting on a bed of ice and dry ice in my bathtub. All I got in that instance was the mess of gelatin because it tipped over in my fridge not once, not twice, but three times, with my shouted expletives becoming more emphatic upon the discovery of each new refrigerator-destroying mess. So I was rather apprehensive about how this whole thing was going to work, but not apprehensive enough to buy a bunch of pounds of test crab. Instead, I crossed my fingers, made sure to oil the mold well, and popped it in my fridge. This mixture was much heavier than the plain gelatin mixture, so the mold was less wobbly and managed to stay put. I cursed a little when I attempted to DEmold it the next day and it firmly stuck to the mold, but after I ran a knife around the edges, it plopped out nicely and to a good effect, I think. Next time, a little pool of cocktail sauce ‘blood’ ought to make it perfect.

73190_446686583939_908027_n The saran wrap is there because I’m not sure about the food safety rating of spraypaint and I didn’t want to poison anyone.

Not all the food is out yet in these pictures, but usually I forget to take ANY pictures.

74427_446686533939_6308869_n

This TV was there just for atmospheric purposes, it played a looped DVD of ‘spooky’ x-rays.

 

69445_446686493939_4457926_n

74567_446686503939_5869914_n Kirsti’s awesome spider-strewn, worm-crawling, bloody-goo cupcakes!

37151_446686613939_7412449_n Pumpkin seed brittle–I am thrilled that this container makes it look like he’s barfing.

But before all that, we carpooled to Buckley to visit Maris Farms. In the past, we’ve gone to Carpinito Bros, but in addition to the corn mazes and pumpkin patches that Carpinito has, Maris has got apple howitzers, corn cob air guns, pedal cars, a slide, a monster truck, and the triple crown of pig racing–so the choice seemed quite clear. I was nervous about the predictions of rain, but the rain that we did get was light and manageable, and for the most part, it DIDN’T rain on us. I have been historically VERY lucky on pumpkin-picking days and haven’t been rained out yet which is surprising as October can be a very wet month in this area.

When Carrie showed up, she showed me the engagement ring she’d received the night before, and said her fiance had intended to propose to her in the pumpkin patch but found himself unable to wait any longer. I am thrilled for her and honored that it ALMOST happened at my party!

The first order of business, besides getting some coffee in my face, was to see how how I measured up.

73940_446686238939_5741783_n Next year I’m shooting for six feet–I will need much bigger shoes, I think, because even standing on my tiptoes barely got me over five feet. Or growth hormones.

After those of us who wanted food or coffee got their mitts on those items, we made our way to the corn maze, which was full of horrible illustrated pun signs asking us to solve the ‘cornundrums’ and a series of checkpoints where the path split, and if we answered a question correctly, we would be given the direction in which to travel.

73727_446686248939_5800106_n I am totally coming back when I’m 99 with mama’s booze bag.

40719_446686268939_8351487_n

69834_446686278939_4996679_n

We may or may not have broken the language rule. We technically did not break the corn-throwing rule, but next year there will probably be a new sign informing guests that they ought not have stalk-slapping fights resulting in shrieking girls chasing one another down muddy pathways threatening vengeance. You know. If that had happened, which I’m not saying it did.

74479_446686313939_5245455_n Slide races!

74310_446686328939_4666804_n Our chariot arrives!

66602_446686353939_3422425_n This is Carrie’s monster truck riding face.

The monster truck ride, though short, was very fun and totally worthwhile. Life doesn’t often present one with an opportunity to ride in a monster truck, and I firmly believe that when these sorts of opportunities are presented, one should leap upon them as quickly as possible, even if it means smacking one’s forehead on a roll cage bar in their frenzied excitement.

After the monster truck ride, it was nearly time for the next pig races, so we made our way back to the track and placed our bets on what we knew in our hearts to be the speediest swine. Each bet was donated to St Jude’s Children’s Hospital, but this didn’t take away the fun and excitement of being invested in the winner of the race. Also, once you bet, you were presented with a pig nose to wear, and that’s also not something at which someone should turn up their nose.

74120_446686363939_4712561_n68187_10150138047359972_6204143_n

40146_446686373939_607465_n

Money was laid in my name on Arnold Schwarteznhogger, pictured here being given a good-luck kiss.

74009_446686393939_102221_n

Fueled with kiss power, Schwartzenhogger took the race, though it was quite close! I was surprised at how fast pigs can run, as I hadn’t ever thought of them as being speedy animals.

After watching the pig races, it was time to pick pumpkins and head back home for food/booze/non-muddy clothes.

34426_446686463939_612702_n

36058_446686573939_913780_n

71980_446686678939_2623047_n

74386_446686643939_817363_n 74684_446686658939_5550918_n

 

33737_446686668939_7828311_n 162735_470680183939_566901_n

 

We drank hot cider with lots of rum, Emily’s killer margaritas, bitch beer…all in preparation for going to see Paranormal Activity 2, which Emily would not do without being loaded with booze. When we arrived at the theater, we found that the most recent showtime was sold out, so we waited at the bar for the next show and drank some more. We also had pockets full of tiny bottles of rum and jager and flasks of more margarita. With all the food I had prepped, somehow I had managed to get only a solitary cupcake down my face before the movie because I was too busy cooking and then carving to eat…but of course I managed to drink just fine. I say this to explain to you why, a third of the way through the movie, I vaulted over the back of my chair, ran to the theater bathroom, and prepared to heave my way into next week. In my drunken foolishness, I didn’t even manage to lock the door, which Kirsti held shut behind me. A theater employee came in and asked if she needed to call a manager. For what? To hold my hair? Assist with a finger down the throat? Or did she mean call a manager to kick my drunk ass out of there? Either way, when I ran out of the theater, my intentions were to throw up, and then go lay down in the backseat of my car until the movie was over and someone could drive me home. Matt came out to check on us–he thought that I was simply too scared of the movie to continue watching it, and I WAS scared…but just at the idea of vomiting in public. He and Kirsti took me home and moved everyone’s pumpkins outside to indicate that the party train had rolled to a stop when they came back.

When everyone else DID end up coming back, I found out that Shannon and Em had also both dashed out of the theater at some point and hurled in adjacent stalls as part of a genuine bonding experience. It was around that time that I ran to MY bathroom and finally heaved, and while I was busy hogging it, Tristan heaved in my sink. At least it wasn’t JUST me playing the solitary weakling this time. Daniel apparently also popped once he got home. FIVE OF US. Good grief, that has to be some kind of record! Some other guests ended up taking Shannon home so she could care for her dog, Em passed out on my beanbag chair, and I blacked out on Jason’s lap and awoke the next morning, thoroughly embarrassed. But no, it wasn’t over yet.

Early the next morning, Emily thought that she had heard running water–she had heard it during the night as well, and assumed that I had gotten up to take a shower, but in the light of morning, she could see that I was still on the couch and the running water continued. She went to investigate and discovered that Tristan must vomit pure acid, as water and hurl was now leaking out of the bottom of my garbage disposal and all over everything I’d tossed under the sink in a fury of poor housekeeping. More embarrassment on my part while I moaned on the couch and Em cleaned it all out. She told me water was still coming out and my addled brain figured that could be construed as a problem with ‘flooding’, so I called emergency maintenance and asked them to come out. It was right around that moment that my hangover kicked in, complete with pounding headache, which was precisely when maintenance showed up and announced that my garbage disposal had been improperly installed and he’d never seen one so bad in his fifteen years of working maintenance. It was so bad, that he needed to remove it with a hammer. BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM. Right in tune with my head. BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM. I looked up, gave Em a wry grin and made a remark about how beautiful it was to be alive. Finally, the disposal was replaced, a lecture was given and received about the appropriate times to call emergency maintenance, Em sobered up and made her way home, and I groaned on the couch for a while longer and then made my way to the kitchen to clean up. I started running the dishwasher, and then I realized that it didn’t sound ‘right’.

…because it wasn’t draining. COME ON, UNIVERSE. Stop tossing me curve balls when I’m not prepared to deal with them! I have since learned that removing several inches of standing water with a turkey baster takes a stupid amount of time and also that despite the large capacity of 55 gallon garbage bags, I ought to have more than two set out for twelve carved pumpkins because they simply become too heavy to carry. I have ALSO learned that even though twenty people say they’re coming, it doesn’t mean that twenty people will show up and ALSO twenty people don’t eat nearly as much food as I think they will. Also, even with all of the booze consumption that happened, somehow I ended the day with still more booze than I started it with. I am NEVER going to get rid of the beer filling an entire shelf of my refrigerator, am I?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to go lay down.