Halloween is it for me. It’s the only holiday there really is to me. When I die I would like my obituary to read, “That broad threw one hell of a Halloween Party.” It’s true. Some little girls want to grow up to be astronauts, to swim from Florida to Cuba, to be the next President of America or to twerk on the big stage, not me. I want to throw the best Halloween Party in town, a party where you can disappear into your costume and the conversation and allow yourself to dissolve into the spirit and the spook of the night.
It’s fair to say that I start thinking and planning, scheming and dreaming about All Hallows Eve long before the day arrives. This year is even more special, for it marks the first Halloween Party that I will throw in a house of my very own. Not a little party that I “make work” in my Manhattan studio, though those parties were EPIC, not a party that I threw with my housemates, even though they were AMAZING! No, this party is mine and mine alone and the possibilities are endless. I just hope my husband is prepared for the glory and gore, the beauty and the scary, the whimsy and the wickedness, the trick and the treat that will become our home for the next month and a half. It’s going to be the beginning, the foundation of the epitaph of my life. It has begun!