Despite my insane tweets about Halloween on my walk home from work, or rather mad dash to escape the neighborhood before being barricaded to the West Side for the Annual Village Halloween Parade, I am officially done with Halloween until I have kids to dress up in superheroes or costumes that make references to 80s and 90s pop culture that all of my other adult parent friends will get a kick out of. (Gleaming the Cube anybody? The Labrynth? Perhaps a little troop of my own representing the cast of Saved By The Bell? Rainbow Brite, bitches!!?) But after standing all night in the record-breaking snowstorm that hit the East Coast two days before Halloween while working a door for a private party outside of a trendy club in Manhattan, I have seen enough "itty bitties" standing in the freezing cold without a coat, a sweater, (hell, a tee shirt!) to last me a lifetime. Ladies, ladies, why? As my good friend put it, "By the end of a night, the girl dressed as a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader [which consisted of something covering her nipples and her ass cheeks hanging out of underwear disguised as a skirt] was dancing on a beer pong table....I mean how low can you go?" Gotta admit, some of these ladies who were standing in the middle of a snowstorm did look damn good. But does anyone suffering the onset of hypothermia really look that good? But alas, everyone got in, (frost bite be damned!) and from what I saw people had a rock star night. I mean, here's the thing, I get it. Halloween is the one night a year where girls/women can really go nuts and flaunt their sexuality in an environment where they will not be judged (or at least judged less) than the environment that sets the moral landscape for their everyday lives. But, then why not Catwoman? And not this Catwoman, but this one, the warm one? Must we be slutty and cold? Can't we be sexy and somewhat warm? This Halloween was a bit grueling. I won't lie. And I am happy to see it pass. But it makes me think of my own Halloween costumes past: Sally Bowles from Cabaret, Elle Driver from Kill Bill, Juno, and that time I whipped together a "cowgirl" outfit for the parade down Santa Monica Blvd in LA where my good friend and I woke up to Drag Queens "being merry" at our feet, I have certainly succumbed to my own versions of wanting to be sexy, reveal a little more on a night when I feel I have permission. But have I now reached the age where I'm too old for pasties, but too young to be a pregnant nun? I think Mike and I have one good festive year in us left where we could pull off the cliched but favorite couples costume Bonnie & Clyde before we start dressing as a plug and a socket only to have a baby come along a couple years later and be the light bulb? Or maybe I am just too bothered by seeing so many women torture themselves in an effort to bolster their self esteem through negative attention? Could you argue its empowering? Sure. Almost anything can be empowering with the right mind set. But does standing on a corner at 2 am shivering in a periwinkle bra and panties (which you tell everyone is Alice in Wonderland) trying to hail a cab in the middle of a snowstorm scream I Am Woman, Hear me Roar? Maybe if I saw more Helen Reddy costumes, and less Snookies and Kim Kardashians, I could go a little easier on the Little Red Riding Hoods and Alices of Halloween. But what I'd really love to see is a woman who has graduated from the ghosts/costumes of Halloween past who could really throw together a collage of all these "titillating" costumes and make a parody of it. Who's up for a pirate/Tinkerbell/playboy bunny/sailor/naught nurse spoof? Me? I think I'll pass. I'm done with pioneer costumes.