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Why You Gotta Go Used with Your Halloween Costume and How To Do It // WV Boudoir Photographer

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OCTOBER IS HERRRRE! Which has a lot of us thinking about our costumes! Well before you get all excited and go to Amazon and purchase that pre-fab Spice Girls costume, read this.

Last night I talked a little on my Instagram stories about how excited I am about my Halloween costume. One of the things I’m most jazzed about is that I set out to put together a costume made entirely of secondhand/things I had/thrifted/made with repurposed items. And I did it!

Today I’m going to tell you WHY I chose to do this, AND I’m going to tell you HOW you can, too!

🖤🖤🖤Reasons to Not Buy New Halloween Costumes and Buy Used Instead 🖤🖤🖤

1. It’s cheaper. New costumes are NOT CHEAP anymore. Gone are the days when mom could run out and buy what is basically a plastic tablecloth with a picture of She-Ra on it. Thrifting will save you a ton of cash. 

2. It’ll inspire you! Don’t know what to be yet? Hit your local thrift store and just see why they’ve got. Often you’ll find a weird piece of clothing that sparks an idea! Think interesting blazer, retro prom dress, hats, graphic sweatshirts, fun shoes...

3. It’s better for the environment. Now I KNOW y’all have heard what fast fashion is doing to our planet. Guess what is absolutely included in that? One time use Halloween costumes. “But I’ll donate it!” You’re still icing your dollars to tell large companies to keep manufacturing these pieces made of not so Earth-friendly materials in not so human-friendly factories. Buying vintage/used/thrifted bypasses this. 

4. It’s way more fun to use what you have, thrift, make a costume! 🧺 It’s so exciting to see it all come together and know you did it in an ethically and environmentally responsible way. For real! Then on Oct. 31 you get to tell everyone you put it together yourself!

TIPS: 

——go into the thrift store/vintage shop/your closet with an AESTHETIC. You don’t need to have an exact idea. But do you wanna look cute, spooky, funny, sexy, handsome, goofy...

——know your crafting limits. Don’t sign on for a crazy crafting job if that’s just not your skill set. It’ll be Oct. 30 and you’ll be hunched over a scrap of fabric with bloody fingertips and you’ll just have to go as The Shameful Crafter. 

——but be willing to do A LITTLE work to get your costume awesome. 

——the internet is your friend. Don’t copycat; that’s lame. Use it as reference and inspiration!

——use Halloween as an excuse to wear that THING in your closet that you love, but never get to pull out.

——there are TONS of vintage resellers on Instagram that you can purchase awesome costume items from including my girl Danielle of Golden Trash and check out Ramblin Van Vintage and Shoppleganger as well!

——ask around! Another way the internet is your friend on this endeavor is the HIVE MIND for tips and ideas as well as items someone else has and doesn’t need! Ask on IG/Facebook for items you just can’t seem to find.

——be flexible. When I started shopping, I thought I was going to be one thing, but I changed my mind because I found something awesome. Believe it or not, no one is going to remember your costume but you, so as long as you feel good in it yourself, you’re doing great.

So there you have it! Anything to add or ask about buying used Halloween costumes?? What are some awesome things you could be made from thrifted items??



Even My Gorgeous, Wonderful Husband Doesn't Get It // WV Boudoir Photographer

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Last night, Ricky and I started watching a show called “Workin’ Moms.” It’s a delightfully honest sitcom about, you guessed it, mothers who work. It’s a goddamn work of art, actually. I’ve seen only two episodes, and during both of them I have laughed out loud many times and cried at least once per episode. It goes deep in a way that most pieces of film are afraid to. Deep in a way that, apparently, only women will understand.


One of the mothers in the show is struggling to produce enough milk via breastfeeding. At the end of an episode, after a long, difficult day of “having it all” (read: working in an office full of men and getting mocked and dismissed for being a MOTHER), her baby fights feeding, but does eventually give in and latches. Her entire body relaxes as she lets out whimpering versions of “thank god.”


The credits rolled, along with the tears down my face. I looked over at my progressive, amazing, understanding husband and said, “do you see? Do you see how much more we have to deal with? Do you see how much harder women have to work just to live a life?” And I was met with a blank stare. Nothing. No words. No emotion. He just stared at me.


To his credit, we were watching a sitcom on Netflix when his wife turned around with a face full of tears, asking him to explain himself and the patriarchy. Maybe he was just stunned. I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t even all that surprised. Women have been alone in this fight forever.

I guess deep down, I’ve known that he doesn’t get it, or I wouldn’t have asked those hypothetical questions of him. We are approaching the years in which we’ll grow our family, and it brings a lot of questions to the surface. Problems that are easy to delay solving now, but won’t be for much longer.


These questions are easy to ignore because my husband IS one of the good ones. He does basically all of our dishes. He does laundry, including my Thinx. He takes care of the cats, the bills, yard, the cars. He understands what emotional labor is, and often verbally acknowledges how much of it he sees me doing. He doesn’t talk over me. He doesn’t talk down to me. As men go, he’s pretty great.

So I forget sometimes, that although he IS incredible, he’s still not a woman.


He still doesn’t understand why I prefer to take the elevator in a parking garage.


He doesn’t know that in the winter, I ran home from my job that was 30 yards away, door to door, in the evenings.


He doesn’t understand how terrifying it is to have an irregular period as a 32 year old woman who wants children.

He doesn’t understand why I’m in such a damn hurry to buy a house.


He doesn’t see other men not making eye contact with me in a group conversation.


He doesn’t know why I hate it when he says he hasn’t noticed the several pounds I’ve put on.


He doesn’t understand why it’s such a goddamn relief that I’ve decided not to breastfeed.


He doesn’t mind, but doesn’t know the power I’ve found in keeping my last name for now.


He doesn’t feel the weight of the government using women’s bodies as pawns in a power game.

He doesn’t, and won’t truly understand any of this. Because he can’t. We can have all of the conversations in the world. He can see me screaming, crying, heartbroken, livid, but he’ll never really know any of it.

I can tell him and teach him how to support women, but the fact is, this will always be a space between my husband and me. This will be something we never have in common.

Computer science

Transformers

Musicals

Understanding life as a woman.