Halloween used to be my thing, in a big way. I took it seriously and went all out. I would start brainstorming on my costume in August, researching and planning in September, and executing in October before the big day. Dress rehearsals, trial runs, you know. I would have things custom made and scour stores for the coolest accessories. Never did I ever wear a costume from a bag; that was for amateurs. I loved Halloween, but then something happened… the Flight of The Sexy Bees took over.
Around 2002, the “Sexy Bee” costume was introduced into the mainstream masses by way of Leg Avenue, a lingerie/costume company that sells every slut-rific costume you can think of – Floozy Fairies, Hussy Harlequins, Whore-ish Warriors, Naughty Ninjas, and even Trampy Train Conductors. At first, the Sexy Bee was cute, but it quickly got out of control. By 2004, costume parties had been transformed into beehives as there were no less than 25 Sexy Bees at any given soiree. When they started adding “Fur Boot” leg warmers to the costumes, I just couldn’t deal.
Next, the Sexy Ladybug became a thing. And the cross-pollination of insects and slutty girls took over All Hallows’ Eve.
Even they got Fur Boots:
And then two became one when the Reversible Sexy Bee/Luscious Lady Bug made it’s debut.
Bitches be walking in as a Bee then going to the restroom and strutting out as a Ladybug. Nope.
In 2008, I was invited to a Halloween party at the Mondrian Hotel in Los Angeles. I had lost my Halloween mojo but decided to give it one last try. I dialed one in and dressed as a damn “Sexy Army Sargent.” It was a costume from a *GASP* bag. It was stupid, but I tried to get into it. I added rhinestones to the patches, worked on my salute, and off I went.
Within fifteen minutes of my arrival, I had crossed paths with way too many Sexy Bees, fur boots and all. Then I ran into a very tall gentleman who was also dressed as a Sexy Bee. I lost my mind. I said, “Oh my God, you’re a Sexy Bee! This is GREAT.”
He said, “Every girl on the planet is a Sexy Bee, I had to make fun of it.”
“You nailed it. It’s hilarious” I confirmed.
The Flight of The Sexy Bees had been beyond over-played and the slutty insect movement was officially lame. He was in on the joke and it was over. And so were my Halloween days. I guess I just outgrew the “trampy version of everything” costumes and spending so much time preparing to play dress up for a night. I became a Hallowon’t.
It wasn’t until 2012 that I dressed up again. I was invited to a James Bond theme party so I thought I would give Halloween another chance. I looked up every Bond Girl that ever was to figure out which ensemble I’d like to imitate with my own creative spin. I just couldn’t do it.
Opting out of the half-nakedness that makes Halloween uninteresting, I went to my favorite menswear store, Guffeys, and had them fit me for a tuxedo. I would be James Bond, but my own sassy version of him. It was awesome. I styled my hair with a deep part, slicked and swooped the front to pay homage to Sean Connery as Bond.
I had a cute little ponytail in the back, rocked a deep red lip, sharp black stilettos and wore large diamond studs. I was super comfortable and looked sleek as hell. I was secretly scoffing at all the bitches in orange bikinis and gold body paint who were freezing their asses off. I looked cool, I felt great and I wondered why I had ever fallen prey to over-sexed costumes in the first place.
At that party, I spied one lone Sexy Bee. And There were no Ladybugs to be found.
“Hooray!” I thought. The slutty insects were finally extinct.
Miss Sarah B.
Sarah Blackman © 2016