I've picked up reading the When Fangirls Attack feed on recommendation, and I don't regret it. The links are interesting, informative, and well written. However, an amusing side effect has been making me take notice of and mull over things I used to toss out of hand. As such, it's now crossbred with my habit of reading the NYT every day to give me a new perspective on this interesting, amusing, and surprisingly honest column.

Halloween on Heels.

Copy and pasted in case the link wears out.

Op-Ed Contributor
Halloween on Heels

By ALLISON GLOCK
Published: October 16, 2006

NORTH CHATHAM, N.Y.

ALL I wanted was a pair of mouse ears. It is Halloween season, and to the delight of my children, I promised to dress up as the country mouse. I was a recent transplant to rural life, so it made sense. Besides, I already owned the overalls and the flannel shirt. I just needed the ears. And maybe a wedge of plastic cheese.

So my girls, 4 and 6, and I went to Target, which has much better lighting than Wal-Mart — and Isaac Mizrahi. It wasn’t long before I discovered that the only ears on offer at the Target Festival of Fright were of the “sexy cat” variety. Sexy cat is fine if you are in your 20’s, unimaginative and trying to persuade people that you possess latent feline qualities. As I am neither latent nor in my 20’s, I continued down the Adult Costume aisle.

I walked past the displays for the sexy devil and the sexy bunny and the sexy leopard — which, confounding logic, was already sold out — before happening upon the wall of full adult costumes. The first was Tavern Lady, an off-the-shoulder dress and faux-leather vest. It was followed by French Maid (ruffled mini-dress with matching headpiece), Cheerleader (pleated micro-mini and fitted vest) and Wonder Woman, which had not only a nearly invisible skirt but also red vinyl boot covers that reached to the thigh.

At $49.99, Wonder Woman was among the priciest costumes, along with the Geisha — both $20 more than Stewardess, which consisted only of a polyester wrap dress with a plunging neckline.

A quick trip to Wal-Mart and Kmart revealed the same dubious selections. While the hemlines were slightly lower on the Kmart French Maid and Cheerleader, Wal-Mart hewed to form with a saucy Red Riding Hood and a naughty rag doll, advertising a “sultry vinyl bodice and thigh highs ... lollipop not included.”

A theme was emerging. And it wasn’t Halloween. Since when did Halloween costumes become marital aids? The hobo has turned into the Hillbilly Honey. The traditional vampire is now the Mistress of Darkness. I have nothing against playing erotic dress-up, or even mass-market fetishism. I’d just prefer it didn’t converge with a family holiday (and wasn’t sold next to the dryer sheets). If you want to play cheerleader at home, go team. But trick-or-treating with your children in anything featuring latex and cleavage seems like a little too much trick.

And really, wasn’t Halloween the one day modern women could relax about looking hot? What if I just want to be a mummy sans yummy?

I noticed that on the outside of every package was a photo of a woman modeling not only the costume, but teetering heels and bras of the push-up variety. The First Lady costume was not, as one might expect, a red business suit, but a pink crepe mini-dress. At least it had the matching pillbox hat. The angel was dubbed “heaven’s hottie.” Even the witch had a slit up her tattered skirt.

My girls were confused. “Where are the monsters?” they asked. “Where are the superheroes?” I pointed weakly to Wonder Woman and her thigh-high boots. “She’s pretty,” said my 4-year-old. Before adding, “You can see her breasts.”

As I watched them scan the selections, soaking in the unspoken message, I remembered my freshman year in college, going to a Halloween party dressed as a pumpkin. My face was painted orange. My torso was covered in fabric stuffed into a wide, round orb. It was not seductive. And it hadn’t occurred to me that it should be. There were no adult pumpkin costumes in the superstores. No vegetable costumes of any sort.

We moved along the aisle. I casually searched for the male equivalent of the Stewardess. Perhaps a Hot Fireman costume? Or maybe Handyman? But there was no Pool Boy. No Sexy C.E.O. There were, in fact, very few men’s costumes at all. A gorilla. A generic monster. A handful of serial killers.

We gave up on the mouse ears. Walking back, I noticed in the middle of the boas and six-inch heels and fishnets hung a Nun costume. It was a floor-length robe with modified wimple. Unlike the other ensembles, which offered bust and hip measurements, it was one size fits most. The price: a modest $9.99. According to the Target Web site, it is a best seller. Probably among men.

Allison Glock is the author of “Beauty Before Comfort” and the forthcoming “What’s in It for Me? The Myth of the Happy Wife.”

Taken in the context of the recent discussion over the female Robin costume, it's interesting to see one well out of the scope of the standard WFA audience noticing the same issue. A recent look over the local party shop reveals the same lack of real female superhero costumes, besides the standard Wonder Woman. At Target, one can find the same number of superhero costumes for both girls and dogs. Yes, I counted, more out of sheer surprise there were so many dog costumes period.

In an amusing anecdote, when I was at aforesaid shop with a friend purchasing a piece for my get-up this year, she was looking over their small selection of superhero costumes when a family came by. What did the little four year old girl want to be?

Batman.

Now, for my own support of superhero costumes, I really don't have room to talk this year, since I'm going as Boss Kean from Cool Hand Luke; however, it lets me stalk around all night with a shotgun in my hand, a fedora on, and a toothpick in my mouth.

And I'm all about fedoras.