Lipstick and Pipe Organ

Something happened last night that has never before happened in my adult life. I did not have to explain my Halloween costume.

In past years I'd been Kale ("why do you have lettuce for your earrings?"), or a Tillandsia species ("an ...air plant? What?"), or a Mad Scientist ("so you have sparkly hair and a lab coat, what show are you from?"), or Green Algae ("LG? Who's that?").

Last night I was Cruella Deville. (101 Dalmations childhood Disney classic) My hair was half black and half white; I had long red gloves, red tights, the bitchy black dress, heels. And my beloved Granny's decadent long furry coat (a true vintage gem). I carried a surprisingly convincing cigarette holder ("can you actually smoke that?"), which was actually part of a coat hanger with a bit of paper at the end. I was sweeping and tall and people would come over all knowing and chatty, "are you Cruella Deville, right!".

A childhood of Troubadour costumes, a crayon costume, pioneer dress that my mom sewed for me (now that is devotion)....I had never been a villain before, and tho I look like an earthquake in heels and didn't know how to apply lipstick, I had a blast of a time.

Not that I don't also love dressing as an obscure air plant, but last night I could feel a little of that attraction of Halloween that people rave about. The creativity and the play of putting together a costume, the imagination and experience of playing a part, the recognition and attention if it works.

Also Cruella Deville played the pipe organ in a concert of spooky music given by Ithaca organists and other musicians. Firstly, I was thrilled and honored to be included in "Ithaca organists good enough to perform in a concert", and secondly, I get a buzz of endorphins every time I play that toccata from suite gothique.  And to share it with  others pumped a whole drunken concoction of the best neurochemicals into my veins. The pride, the nervousness, the landed success of the last bombastic chord, the concentration to stay adhered to the bench when both feet were racing. Also to strut up there in red and black costume, cigarette holder at jaunty gesticulating angle, it was just like playing dress up and exploring the novelty of being something else...but just in front of a few hundred people.

I had help from a new friend, a particular yoga goddess in town who happens to have my birthday; we are sisters in the boldness hair and whenever I feel too loud or too colorful I can turn to her and feel comparably and refreshingly small. We clacked around my apartment, practicing villain-heel-walking, laughing like hyenas because my inability to walk in heels was abundantly apparent. I also didn't know how to apply lipstick. I snapped open the little stick and held it up, all important and red, and hovered at a loss over my face. Yoga Goddess explained the nuances of outlining the upper lip and then pressing into the lower one. Ta-da. Life skills to be gained at any time in life.