And for many the playful spectacle of Halloween is more their speed. I could personally live without it. I love the candy corn but not the holiday itself. I'm always uninspired in the costume department. I found a set of pink wings here last week from my senior year of college when I went, rather uninterestingly, as a fairy. Last year, not caring until the very last minute, I bought a two dollar devil set, threw on a very, very small black dress and layered my red tights beneath my fishnets. I could not have cared less.
New Year's Eve is my holiday.
When I was seven, or maybe eight, my mother took me to a Boston Pops performance to celebrate the changing of the calendar. She made me a fantasy dress. It was gold, and I was in love with it and its twirly skirt. At midnight, we made our way down from the balcony to where they had cleared the tables away so everyone could spend the first part of that new year dancing to the sounds of the orchestra. I gazed at all of the adults in their pretty dresses and pretty tuxes and swayed gently from side to side to the music.
For the past three years, looking for a New Year's Eve dress, either in stores or in the depths of my closet, has been one of my favorite endeavors. To ring in 2007, I wore a pink BCBG. Oh, and a tiara. In 2008, it was a silver dress from H&M and a mask. For 2009, it was black from Old Navy and a set of 2009 glasses.
And for 2010, I want the dress that stopped me in my tracks in the midst of a casual stroll through Barneys yesterday.
And maybe a sparkly top hat.
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