We’ve been scarecrows, the cast of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and characters from Cat and the Hat. So this year, when it came time to plan the annual Harris Halloween costume, Mills and I decided to be something fitting—wild indians. Trust me, if anyone lives up to the name, it’s us. We were actually inspired by our collection of Flash Tattoos and a friend who showed me the beautiful headdress he was going to wear. I immediately knew if I put together a native-themed outfit bits and pieces would get a second use at Coachella. A load of fringe, suede, beads and feathers, hand sewing and glue-gunning later, tada, We made the transition and I gave myself a Martha Stewart-sized pat on the back. What I couldn’t do, I left to the professionals. I bought my headdress at a local costume shop. Blo Midtown awesomely braided our hair, Leslie Munsell Dubbin of Beauty For Real gave us Native American-inspired makeup, I even took it to the next level and got my first spray tan in a decade at Elle Air. And what a weird experience that was. I basically paid money for someone to shoot me with a freezing concoction, stick me under a fan and then as the day went on I watched myself transform from Casper to Tahitian Ginger, freaking out that somewhere in the process the shade shifting would stop in the Magda from Something About Mary category. It didn’t, thank God. And I actually like the results. Damn, please don’t let it be another grooming ritual to add to my already over-zealous routine.
After ,we costumed up away we went to trick-or-treat around Miami Beach. It was all well and good, too, until Mills saw some kid in a freaky mask and then she threw in the towel. It’s odd being that Halloween is my favorite holiday and her least. But just because she was done didn’t mean I was. Trick-or-treating may be for kids, but Halloween is still an adult sport. After Mills gathered her Sweet Tarts and Skittles, she retired for the evening and I transitioned into the adult version of my costume and headed to Nightmare on the Beach. What a party. What a night. What a Halloween. Only another 363 to go before the next one. And you’d better believe I’m already planning what next year’s costumes will be.