Happy halloween hags x
Oh Halloween, the things us hags do for you. Spooky season is a time when some of us witches truly come alive. When our inner Halloween hoe makes its annual outing. It’s a beautiful thing. A world-wide phenomenon. But, it’s also a time fraught with danger. Forget the creeps from scary movies. The real peril we face at this time of year, is trying to look our Halloween best. Below is a compilation of warnings and ‘why do we do this to ourselves’ to laugh at as we lace, lycra and body-paint up once more. (Or, if you’re like me, recover from a weekend of doing so).
Oh (eye)balls
Hands up if you’ve been personally victimised by spooky contact lenses. Yes, they look great for the gram. But I propose a ban on them forthwith for the following three reasons. 1. You can hardly see in the damn things, which by the time you’ve had a skin-full and turn blurry-eyed is really quite hazardous. (Speaking from experience, beware of stairs if you’ve got a pair in). 2. One of the bastards never settles right, so you either end up with streaming eyes all evening, or (if you’re extra lucky) one of the zombie/cat/devil shaped lenses pointing the wrong way up and looking less sexy cat-woman and more crazy cat lady. 3. Has anyone ever remembered to take them out at the end of the night? Queue the driest eyes you’ve ever experienced, waking up panicking that you’ll never see again bcos they’ve glued themselves shut, pink eye and mucho regret. If you brave the spooky contacts this year, for devils sake stock up on the eyedrops plz gyals.
A horny warning
A couple of Halloweens ago, in my chaotic uni days, I nearly crossed over to the other side upon waking up the-morning-after-the-Halloween-night-out-before in - what appeared to be - a blood soaked bed with - what I thought at the time was - severe head trauma. Had I been kidnapped? Was I in fact, deceased? Had someone viciously attacked me in my sleep and placed some kind of restraint on my head? Thankfully not. Though a devilish disaster I would pay for in much vanish multi-action stain remover and paracetamol had befallen me. Having passed out in full red devil garb (horns, heeled boots and all), I’d evidently rolled around significantly in my drunken slumber and the scene I had in fact woken up to was a bed full of red-body paint and the headache of a lifetime. Moral of the story? Horns, whether on your head (or belonging to someone else) are very rarely worth the trouble.
Wig out
A less painful alternative to horny headwear, wigs can seem like a tempting option to complete that full Halloween transformation. I myself have been known to don one or two, shout out the long red Ariel number I recycled 3 years in a row (devil 1.0, devil 2.0 and Jessica Rabbit). After that came a cute black cropped bob number (for devil 3.0 - yes, I realise that’s a lot of devils but what’s an unimaginative spooky girl to do). I can confirm that (in my case) blondes have more fun, as the black cropped bob nearly killed me a few months after I wore it to an event last year.
The thing about wigs is, they’re really bloody hot. So wearing one to a rave at Tobacco Docks was, perhaps, not the smartest choice. Halfway through said rave, fed up of people mistaking me as Velma and sweating my tatas off, I whipped the darn thing off my head and preceded to use it as a kind of crusty cheerleaders pom pom for the rest of the evening. Waving it around in the air like I just didn’t care took a toll on the poor thing. And the state of wiggy the next morning was a real sight to behold, she’d been dropped on the floor and stomped on good few times - really gone through the ringer (bless her). Feeling much the same myself the next morning, I was sick of the sight of the thing. Rather than making an attempt to revive wiggy, I just shoved her to the back of my wardrobe (the solution to most of my problems in life) - out of sight, out of mind. A few months later - whilst attempting a much needed cupboard clear out, I gave myself the fright of a lifetime. Upon moving a pile of clothes, I uncovered what felt and looked like some kind of evil giant spider/cupboard-dwelling creature. I screamed and fell backwards, before realising that it was just good old crusty dusty wiggles. So I guess, if you too return with a dutty wig this Halloween - save yourself the trouble and just chuck it (and perhaps urself) in the bin where it belongs.
Spray safe
Given the aforementioned perils of wig-wearing, coloured hairspray may appear another good alternate option. Well, I thought so too - until a fateful Halloween about three years ago. Whilst I donned my incredibly attention-seeking Jessica Rabbit finest, my gorgeous gorgeous bestie had chosen the Joker as her inspo. for the year. Going all out, she didn’t stop at the iconic face-paint. No, no. This committed Halloween queen took it a step further and whipped out a bottle of green hairspray. After umm-ing and ahh-ing for a good few hours about whether or not to go for it, she took the plunge and began to spray away. The results were….not quite as we’d hoped. In just a few moments, she turned from sexy joker to unhinged broccoli-head lady. I can’t quite remember if tears were shed, but I do recall us narrowly missing last entry as we frantically tried to wash the green out of her hair and left the bathroom of our friend’s house looking like Kermit the frog had been brutally murdered in there.
Don’t wing it
It’s not just the damage we cause ourselves that we need to beware of at this time of year. (I’m looking at you, Fallen Angels). Those damn wings. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve nearly lost an eye-ball to a Fallen Angel, or Tinkerbell on the D-floor. You may be mesmerised as she swirls and twirls around - but be careful not to stand too close - otherwise she may well take your eye with her as she goes.
And that is that for our spooky special. Stay safe out there Halloween queens. You all look amazing in your fancy dress finest (as I told every girl I came across in the club toilets at the weekend). Happy Halloween and welcome back to Ganter witchez!!!
