Back in the Boo York Groove
Back in the Boo York Groove
Halloween in The Big Apple for the first time in years. Plus, Jon Batiste, 'Wicked' mania, a plea from Jimmy Kimmel and Homey D.
It’s been some time since I went big on Halloween. There were a few half-hearted attempts at trick-or-treating, costumes, and a graveyard visit during my time in Paris, but France’s biggest contribution toward the holiday may be how serious it takes Chrysanthemums. Unlike in the States where mums of all colors are seen everywhere from front yards and apple farms to balconies and restaurant terraces, in France they’re considered a death flower and only left on graves or given as a sentiment to express condolence. Sure, France’s pumpkins are at least edible, but procuring a bag of candy corn requires a passport, and dressing up often means staredowns on the rue. They’ve made strides in recent years, with the likes of Monoprix stocking up on faux cobwebs and bats weeks in advance, but it’s otherwise pretty subdued.
You can imagine my excitement then, to be back in the States to celebrate Halloween for the first time in almost a decade. Only I quickly remembered I’m childless and 46. I don’t have any rugrats/minions of my own to accompany on candy expeditions and I’m too tired and jiggly to take Jell-O shots before running around town with skin exposed. Been there, done that. I’m in my Meet-Me-Before-Midnight Era. Other than carving a pumpkin, what’s a single lady who’s still got (some) energy, sass, and ingenuity to do?
For me, the best part of Halloween has always been the costume: timely, clever, and DIY wins the day. But without a place to show it off, putting in the effort feels pointless. When I was younger, I never expected an invite to Heidi Klum’s soirée, but there’d at least be some all-you-can-drink fundraiser at a posh hotel, or a party at a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend’s apartment, or a concert at a small venue in Brooklyn that a cabbie wouldn’t want to take me to without an eye roll and a huff.
Fast-forward a decade or so and my options are suddenly trick-or-treating or trick-or-treating. Either with my friend’s kids in the city or staying on the island to hand out candy in the ’burbs from a house that’s not mine. No disrespect to Reeses and Snickers, but as Talking Heads sing, “How did I get here?” In the end, I chose the former and I was reminded almost immediately that walking the streets of NYC (ideally in costume around the West Village a few hours before the annual parade kicks off) is enough of a plan. In fact, it’s probably the best plan at this point in my life—especially if I’ve got kids to borrow for the evening who will take me to the posh houses of their friends that have built-out haunted houses complete with eery dry ice, ghosts hanging from facades, and flickering lights from bedroom windows. Honestly, I’ve never seen so many decorations and such thematic dedication! Skeletons on lamposts. Pumpkins lining brownstones. There was even a blowup Stay Puft marshmallow towering over a brick building! Oh, and did I mention some homes were handing out Prosecco to the adults? (No, I didn’t check for, er, knives with the free booze—remember that?—but I’m pretty sure we were in safe territory amongst the millionaires off Fifth Avenue.)
Starting early with kids and ending as the crowds began to congregate for the parade was the money move. This way, we could still cross streets somewhat easily and could at least see some of the adult costumes (slutty and otherwise) before those wearing them get drunk and inappropriate. Meanwhile, taking an edible is not necessary, but recommended for a sensory-heightened trick-or-treating experience.
As for my look? It wasn’t my best, but I was proud of it. Not only because it was free, clever, and on-brand, but because I came up with it at the 11th hour while simply sifting through my closet and staring at/hating on the fake flowers my brother purchased for his flower boxes. (Me: There’s gotta be a better way to use plastic flowers than, er, pretending they're real...)
While I’d prefer it if everyone recognized me right off the bat, I didn’t mind giving hints—especially because I was confident they’d appreciate the wit and effort once they figured it out. (Here you go: Three words. A pun. Adam + Eve.)
And that was that! A return to American Halloween for the ages—and the aged.
Lots for you to watch rather than read this week! Oh, and big high fives to anyone running in the NYC marathon on Sunday—I’ll be there cheering you on/crying from the sidelines. Lastly, I gotta say it: vote, vote, vote. For sanity. For dignity. For choice, opportunity, intellect, and freedom! xx — Sara
Clickable
Jon Batiste on playing around with the masters. |
“Do you have a quick second?” A man-on-the-street primer. | The Cut
At least this editorial writer used her voice to take a stand. | WaPo
Reflections from the ultimate Beatles fan. | The New York Times
Watchable
Jon Batiste is one talented genius. Here he is with a refreshing take on Beethoven’s Für Elise, aka the first song anyone taking piano lessons learns how to play.
I love everything about this ad starring Jason Alexander—including the fact that I didn’t know what it was selling until the very end. It hits many relatable notes such as what you never order at a diner (fish), what you always order at a diner (a BLT — duh), and what you must skip at the register (the mints).
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Say what you will about TikTok, but this one features excellent use of iconic still shots paired with instrumental music. I’d like to think it was super easy to make, but know that’s probably not the case, which is why the platform earns my respect for the creativity it fosters.
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Last week, the internet lost its shit over Broadway star Keri René Fuller’s jaw-dropping performance of “Defying Gravity” accompanied by Stephen Schwartz orchestra—and for good reason: The powerhouse singer belts out this ballad with an effortlessly cool demeanor. Meanwhile, the song itself is having a moment again in anticipation of the upcoming Wicked film coming out, with amateurs singing it at home while making dinner like it’s NBD.
Lastly, Tuesday’s election is too important—and this newsletter is too personal—for me not to sneak in one video about politics, and this one is a plea from late-night host Jimmy Kimmel. It’s honest, funny, and worth a listen—especially if you or someone you know is voting red or still undecided. Thanks for hearing him (me! us!) out.
How High Can I Go?
Currently overthinking…
…whether to vote early or the day of (spoiler: I voted…)…what to be for Halloween (spoiler: see above)…
Souvenir: Homey D. Clown
Continuing the Halloween spirit, this week I’m throwing it back to one very pissed-off clown: Homey from In Living Color. Who can forget this popular segment from the ’90s sketch comedy series where Homey, played by Damon Wayans, famously said, “I don’t think so — Homey don’t play that!” The character was a former felon who also hit people over the head with a soft bat of sorts every time he got annoyed. Ya know, classic clown behavior.