I was Saul Hudson, better known as Slash, last night for Hallowe’en. That top hat was fabricated at 10:30pm using a Lucky Charms box, some cardboard, and some tinfoil, all duct-taped and hot-glued to a witch’s hat from the dollar store. The cigarette is a rolled-up index card with masking tape on the “filter” to keep it from getting all waterlogged, which worked perfectly.
And that hair. That hair is all me, baby, and I didn’t even need to tease it. The photo doesn’t do it justice, it was sooo big and sooo puffy it was like a cloud from another dimension. All I did was rinse out most of the conditioner I use to keep it from taking over the solar system, and it expanded to the point where this morning I found a bartender caught in it from last night.
And she was all “HI” and I was all “GAH” and I tried to shake her free. And she was like “AWW WHY DO I HAVE TO LEAVE THIS SOFT DOWNY NEST IT IS SO COMFORTABLE WITH ALL ITS UNTAMED POOF IT IS LIKE LYING IN A PILE OF BUNNIES” and I was all “GET OUT OF HERE AND ALSO HOW DID YOU GET IN THERE ANYWAY” and she was all “LAST NIGHT YOU BRUSHED PAST ME AND YOUR HAIR ABSORBED ME AND I WAS SCREAMING AND FLAILING BUT YOUR MARVELLOUS HAIR DAMPENED MY BLOWS AND MUFFLED MY CRIES LIKE SOME KIND OF SPACE AGE INSULATION” and I was all “GO HOME IMMEDIATELY” and she was all “BUT PLEASE SPACEPERSON I AM STILL ENTANGLED” and finally she used a Swiss Army knife to “slash” her way free of the tendrils and she said “HA HA PUN INTENDED” and I lost my temper and went “GET OOOOOUT I AM LAAAAAATE FOR DIM SUUUUUM” So she started to back away but then darted in one more time to pet my hair very gently with just the tips of her fingers, and I made a face like “DON’T MESS WITH ME LADY” and she gasped and skittered away like an adolescent deer through the undergrowth and I went to meet my relatives for some dim sum.
(Dim sum was amazing by the way. Thanks, Uncle Tony!)
Overall the costume worked out pretty well for something created in such a last-minute hustle. I went to the washroom at one point, and a panicky woman in Edie Sedgwick eyelashes said “SLASH THIS IS THE LADIES’ ROOM” and then I felt like a success. But then, like 10 minutes later, I was striding powerfully up the street to the bank machine, emitting as much early 1990s rock-n-roll machismo as my skinny jeans could muster, and some teenager goes
“HEY IT’S MICHAEL JACKSON”