note to self: burning feathers smell...bad

I know Halloween isn't until Monday, but, as far as I'm concerned, once the costume is "out of the bag," so to speak, then Halloween is pretty much over. Not that I don't also have a sort of ambivalent affection for the hundreds (I am not exaggerating) of children that will come to our door Monday night (last year April had to run out for more candy), but now that I'm no longer able to legitimately trick or treat (nor would I really want to), Halloween is more about the costume than anything.

That said, last night April and I went to a Halloween party (hence dressing up before the actual holiday). She went as Medusa (poor thing--she looked great, but the wires holding the snakes on her head gave her a monster headache and a bruise on her scalp!); while I had first considered going as Perseus, the Gorgon's slayer, I eventually decided that I wanted to have a costume that was a least slightly more interesting in its own right. So, continuing with the Greek myth theme, I decided to go as Icarus. You know, that belligerent teenager who wouldn't listen to his father when the old man was trying to teach his son how to fly? Not heeding the paternal warnings, Icarus flew too close to the sun, the wax holding his wings together melted, and he plummeted into the ocean. Actually, as a child I never liked Icarus because I couldn't imagine so pointedly disobeying my parents (interestingly, this is also why I disliked Beverly Cleary's Ramona), but now I think there's something fascinating about his rebellion. Or maybe I just wanted a good excuse to dress like a boy and have wings. I don't know.

I do have a rather long history of cross-dressing Halloween costumes (most from my childhood): a teenaged mutant ninja turtle (Raphael, for those interested), a knight, Robin Hood, a notebook and pencil (okay, that's gender-neutral, but it shows what a complete and utter nerd I was/am), etc... Last year, I was a Samurai; the trend continues. Although, every once and a while I feel the need to have a sexy, girly costume (Artemis, a devil, a spidery-witch). I always like to look at least somewhat attractive, but gender is apparently not so important.

Anyway, part of the fun of the Icarus costume was buying cheap wings and setting them on fire (they actually didn’t really “catch” on fire, which is probably good, but were very prone to singeing at the touch of flame). I was pleased with the result—wings frayed and singed and covered in blood-red wax (see below)—but not so pleased with the resulting odor. I guess I’ve never burned feathers before, but they smell a bit like burning hair or flesh. Not pleasant. And even though I did the actual burning outside, the smell clung to the feathers and gave me a headache for about the first hour I was wearing them. Luckily, by the time I actually made it to the party, the smell had mostly dissipated—at least, no one seemed too unwilling to sit next to me, so I assume it had lessened somewhat.

So, note to self: allow at least 1-2 hours for burning feathers to lose their smell before they are worn.