Nobody understood my costume last year. I tried to go for abstract and learned my lesson. I was a “Hairdresser on Fire,” yes as in the Morrissey song.
Prior to Halloween, my friends asked, “how are you going to do that?”
It wasn’t tough, but it was time consuming. I had my mom make me a smock and I sewed flames all over the smock (which was more like a coat). I also named the hair salon something punny and stuffed my pockets with cheap hairbrushes and combs. The costume was a dud. Nobody got it, even hardcore Morrissey and Smiths fans. Plus, it was too warm to wear while dancing in a crowded club.
Right after Halloween ’07, I chose Carmen Sandiego. I grew up playing the computer game, watching the PBS game show, humming along to Rockapella, and watching the cartoon. I’ve always loved geography, maps and trivia so Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? was the perfect game. I knew the costume would be recognizable and easy to put together, save for finding a red hat.
Here’s how to dress up as Carmen Sandiego
- Red trench coat (I bought mine right before Christmas on sale)
- Red fedora, a nice hat would’ve cost too much so I just found a $10 hat on an online costume shop
- Black gloves (purchased in a Santa Cruz hat shop)
- Black shirt, pants and shoes (found in my own closet, but I might borrow boots from my mom)
- Long hair (oh well, short will have to do this year) and red lipstick (I’ll borrow some from my sister)
DB is dressing up as a detective on the chase.
Now all I have to do is steal some monuments or priceless art and jet off to some unknown corner of the world.
Happy Halloween!
PS I would’ve posted this earlier, but I didn’t want anyone to steal my costume idea! Carmen is the one who does the stealing!

Growing up my family never celebrated Día de los Muertos. Late October and early November were spent preparing and celebrating Halloween, my tía Martha’s birthday, All Saints Day and All Souls Day. I didn’t learn about the wonderful traditions associated with Día de los Muertos until I got to college. I was hooked by the imagery and art, especially any take on José Guadalupe Posada’s 1913 zinc etching of 
I didn’t hear the story of La Llorona until I was 13. At the time, my cousins Adán and Jorge were living with us after moving back from Zacatecas. During the day, they’d work delivering roofing materials throughout Southern California. In the evening, we’d sometimes talk about what it was like to grow up in Baldwin Park and then move to Mexico right before high school. Eventually, Adán would start with the creepy stories about weird phenomena in el rancho.