This is How We Do: DIY Halloween Costumes on a Budget

by Zane Ballard

Hey Millsaps, freaking out about having a good costume for Voodoo or Halloweezy? Fear not, P&W contributor Zane Ballard is here to help. So if you’re still bummed about losing the Heritage costume contest, or how expensive costumes are at Party City, read on for some last minute costume ideas!

Photo by Zane Ballard

Photo by Zane Ballard
Photo by Zane Ballard

The lazy costume: It’s a cat. It’s always a cat. For this costume, you’ll need dark colored clothing (animal print optional). Face painting for whiskers can consist of paint available at any superstore or art supply shop, or any of a number of black cosmetic products. Go wild. Also, you probably want some ears and a tail to accompany this ensemble, both of which are available at Halloween/party supply stores or from the back right corner of your weird roommate’s closet. Which you should never delve into if you aren’t feeling brave. Never.

Additional lazy suggestion: Werewolf. Dress in normal clothing. It won’t be a full moon.

For the politically inclined, the relevant costume: the Gay Gremlin.

Photo by Zane Ballard
Photo by Zane Ballard

“They’re these creatures that are so destructive,” South Carolina congressional candidate Anthony Culler  recently stated in regard to same-sex couples. He clearly hasn’t been to Millsaps.

Apparently in vogue is reference to same-sex couples seeking the right to marriage as “gremlins” trying to “destroy our way of life.”

What you’ll need: one terrifying cardboard box mask. There’s no need to be a conformist, get creative with the nightmarish expression you’ll be sporting. Attire is variable, considering that (***revelation***) not all queer people look/dress/are alike. The pride flag is a rad addition, but there’s lots of gay stuff you can add to it. Mix and match! The world is your rainbow oyster.

The scariest costume of all: Overly optimistic grad school interview

DIYhalloween3You know it’s coming. We all know. Inevitably, you will have to support someone through (or be the one having) the unremitting torrent of emotional distress that results from a grad school interview gone terrible-awful-no-good-very-bad. Was it the brightly colored business casual top with the vague stain under the chin from a disastrous lunch stop at Taco Bell? Maybe the tie or colorful accessory was just a little too much for your interviewer? Or perhaps you shouldn’t have worn jeans and sneakers to a potentially life-changing evaluative situation. In any case, it’s done, and the chips have fallen. Might as well cover those chips in cheese and tears and call them “bad day nachos.”