Through all the busy ins and outs of October in SF, I still somehow managed to find the One… that is, the one costume that I really cannot wait to dress up for this Halloween!
I do try as much as I can to get creative in terms of costumes that aren’t slutty or cliche or niche. I just go for what I like– what women I admire. It started out as Disney princesses in the early years of grade school, and then made my way from glamorously gaudy Queen Cleopatra to the heoric and Dark Ages Patriarchy-smashing Joan of Arc in second grade– yes, I actually wore chain mail and had my prop sword taken away from me for the entire class. Then literary figures took over my life, even pop culture nods as every October 31st P transformed into Daisy Buchanan, Elizabeth Bennet, Hermione Granger, and even Marie Antoinette. I still will get the rebellious urge from time to time, like when I was the fifth Musketeer freshman year of college.
But now, you have it kids, my costume of this year to be The Mother from How I Met Your Mother.
I started watching HIMYM admittedly after the series finale. Everyone was in such uproar over the ending that it got me curious. So I started down that long journey following one man’s simple story told to his children about the events– nine years of them in fact– that led to him meeting their mother, his soul mate. The show in itself is a remarkable piece of television work with a brilliant narrative frame that opens the door for so much to happen within the show, from imaginative scenarios and jumping around from memories and even when the Dad, Ted, fills in the blanks of his clouded memory. This show is such a love letter to not just finding the love of your life– but the love of the journey that is life, with all its ups and downs and the people who partake on these adventures with you.
You don’t get to really meet the mother until the last season, but the way that everything, every little detail and clue (and of course, the symbol of her unforgettable yellow umbrella) and event, is tied up with her coming is just poetic. Everything in life points to her, or that feeling of true reward in never losing sight of faith. She is another character, unique woman that I admire, albeit being fictitious. Being the mother is the inner hopeless romantic of mine coming out in full force– and who knows, perhaps I won’t run into my own Ted Mosby anytime soon but keeping that faith makes this costume all the more magical.