2 for 1 Halloween Costume Special

Last night I attended a law school Halloween party with my roommate who is a 1L. We did not don costumes, not because we aren't creative or fun, but because we thought our "Cruella" (by Nars,) red lips were rocking enough. It's part of our charm.

Come to find out, it was a good thing we did not dress up.

OK, so maybe I'm not all that creative. As of yesterday afternoon, I lacked a costume for the evening. I didn't have the French maid costume lying around anywhere, (I find it rather cliché, even for Halloween,) but there is one thing I do have after years of spending sprees at Ann Taylor, and that is suits. So, working with what I had available to me, I began thinking of who I could be for Halloween.

This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone who knows me, but my initial list of potential characters was political. I considered Hillary, but didn't think going as our current US Secretary of State was very respectful. I thought about Palin, but how does anyone ever top Tina Fey? I also mulled over throwing on a black dress, pearls and a nice big rock on my left hand and going as a career politician's wife.

Then my mind shifted to more typical Halloween characters like ghosts, zombies, witches…

Witches! Ah ha!

At this point all I can hear is Christine O'Donnell saying, "I am not a witch. I'm you."

As much as I hate to criticize members of my own gender, especially when they are trying to forge forward in a male-dominated arena, I have to give credit where credit is due. And who can resist a two for one Halloween costume special? Package contains: conservative suit, pearl necklace and earrings, American flag lapel pin, witch's hat, broom, and lapel sticker that reads: O'Donnell for US Senate – I'm not a witch. I'm you.

But, because I am a perfectionist, the fact that I didn't have dark hair or the lapel pin deterred me from pursuing the costume in full and I chose something tried and true from my closet: black.

As it turns out, someone does share my sense of humor, and it was a very good thing I did not dress up as Christine O'Donnell as my costume would have paled in comparison.

Of course she had the political thing going with the red, unembellished suit, pearls, campaign sticker on the lapel, AND she was brunette. But, all of this was just a background to the star accessory:

A large witch's hat with tea bags hanging from the brim.

Yes, tea bags.

How in the world could I have surpassed that level of creativity?

Exactly. I couldn't have.

"Macy's... It's like Belk"

I also had this encounter at the law school Halloween party last night:

My roommate saw a fellow classmate, and the girl introduced herself as being "bling" for Halloween. By "bling" I mean that which often hangs from the neck of a rap star.

Her outfit consisted of jeans, a bedazzled top, and really gaudy but oh-so-fitting "costume" jewelry. My roommate inquired as to where Bling had purchased her bling, and she replied, "Target".

While it was an impulsive speculation, I wagered that the top looked like a higher quality than Target, so I couldn't resist asking: "You bought that top at Target?!"

"Oh, no," she says. "I got this at Macy's. It's like Belk."

It's like Belk?

(Pregnant pause to process what had just taken place.)

I survey my outfit, beginning with my BCBG Max Azria off-the-shoulder top, then down to my Diane von Furstenberg pumps and over to my left arm accessorized with David Yurman. And as I grasped my Kate Spade clutch, I remembered that I did not need to check my Nars-painted lips because I had touched them up not two minutes before exiting the car.

So I have to ask:

Did she really just feel the need to explain Macy's to me?! (With indignant high-pitch southern drawl that goes up half an octave at the end.)

Of course I conveyed my exchange with Bling to my roommate. Also possessing fashion sense, my roommate rolled her eyes and picked up with her daily rant about how no one in her class knows how to coordinate an outfit and that rolling out of bed she is dressed better than most of the school. Having spent countless hours with local law school students, I can attest to this.

To put this into context, Belk is a regional department store in the Deep South. Belk carries respectable lines of clothing, so I intend no disrespect toward the company. But as someone who receives the Neiman Marcus catalogue and has a subscription to Vogue, I was indignantly taken aback that Bling would feel the need to explain Macy's to me in terms of Belk.

I'm going to nix that as part of her charm and just say this:

Bless her heart.

Big Hair and Lots of Makeup

During spring break of my sophomore year of college, I vacationed at my usual sea side condominium with my roommate Sephora and our close friend Molly Margaret. Per the classic college girl custom, we spent two hours getting dressed every evening in part for the potential Facebook photos that would result. Sephora is a native of Virginia. Whether Virginian or from the Deep South, the consensus is that Virginia is southern in geography only. So it's no surprise that one of Sephora's friends from Virginia, upon seeing spring break pictures of us at a crawfish boil, asked Sephora: "Why do all of your southern friends have big hair and lots of makeup?" (Good thing she couldn't detect the event and venue.) The funny thing about culture is that, upon entering into a different one, assimilation occurs at least in part, and something that was a part of the new culture ends up becoming a part of you. At this point, Sephora had resided in the Deep South for the better part of five years. That being said, at present I know of no one who wears as much makeup as Virginia's own Sephora. Not that it is representative of the whole, but if you could stereotype southern women based solely on these photos, "big hair and lots of makeup" would be an accurate description. Not that our cosmetics lack sophistication. But when compared to women in other regions of the country, I can see why someone would think it abundant. What can we say? It's part of our charm.

Southern Women and Career Aspirations, or Lack Thereof

In 60 days, I will have completed my four-year degree. Not surprisingly, the post-grad career planning has begun. Updating online profiles, getting in touch with contacts, networking, requesting reference letters and applying for jobs have become the things I do in the small amount of time that I am not currently contributing to school and work. It's simultaneously exciting and exhausting, but the energy from the forward thinking has taken effect, and I am eager to take life head on. So despite the fact that I am falling into bed at midnight and getting up at 4 am to start the day, I couldn't be happier. After leaving the office at 7 pm last Friday, I met two close friends for dinner. Intelligent, beautiful, and former ballerinas, one is graduating with a marketing degree, the other graduated over a year ago with a degree in Political Science and resume that includes Summa Cum Laude recognition and fluency in Spanish. Six months ago, this same scene would have been comical, an enjoyable time spent with friends talking about our expensive taste in clothing and ordering dessert because we're young and single, and because we can. But on this night, it seemed like a different group of girls. The changes that occur naturally at this stage in life seemed to have taken effect. As I discussed my plans for the future, I realized that I was somehow on a very different page than these girls, if I was even in the book at all. As I spoke, I felt both frustrated and uncomfortable with the two people, once among my closest confidantes, who conveyed little in the way of feedback other than blank stares, snide remarks, and subject changes. Espana is recently engaged and planning a spring wedding to the guy she had dated for four months at the time of the proposal. She just gave up going to London to get a graduate degree in international public policy. Marketing is still very single and graduating with no plans to return to school, and at present, without a job search approach. I am absent a significant other by choice and enjoying the dating scene when I am not doing school, work, career planning and running. These aren't the only people I'm watching put the "leave and cleave" idea into action. Another one of my best friends is recently engaged to her first serious boyfriend. Then there are the friends that are already married. When I hear these girls discussing wedding plans, buying furniture for their living rooms, and the timeline for child one, two and three, I cringe. My recoil is not the result of jealousy or depression; but rather at the thought that it could be me. So many factors have come together to push me toward planned independence. My own mother forewent college and stifled creative talents to spend the better part of 25 years as a devoted housewife and mother of three. For my friends in marriages, the complaints, struggles, and questions of "what if?" are endless. I've had several significantly older boyfriends who have made something of themselves and encouraged me to do the same. But I also had the boyfriends who were ready to put a ring on it after two months. When I run into them now with their wives and babies, our parting is accompanied with me sighing with relief and thanking the powers that be that I'm not the other girl. Of course, a popular southern FAQ is, "Who are you dating?" or, "Are you engaged yet?" I always smile graciously while politely explaining that I'm pursuing other aspirations until the time is right. Per Southern culture, it's customary to get unwanted feedback with such intrusive questions. These remarks usually include, "Oh, honey, you'd make such a great wife!" Or, "Why do you want to go to a big city? You'll never make it on your own". It's this last one that is probably the most motivating. I always want to flash them my surreptitious smile and request that they tell me again that I need a man because I'll never make it on my own. What so many of these people fail to grasp is that there are things that I need to do for me. Things like becoming financially stable, gaining respect through a career, earning a graduate degree, and moving to a new place for new experiences. It is not that I have a chip on my shoulder regarding the male species or the institution of marriage. I think both are wonderful to acquire in due time. But at that time, I want to be a complete person. I want to be able to look back at my single years knowing that I accomplished everything that I, Kristina Erin Barton, wanted to accomplish as an individual, not because my name was Mrs. Someone Else. At my age, I hardly consider myself matured. Looking back at the last few years, I know that the person I am today hardly resembles the person I was two years ago. Knowing that this change will remain at a steady constant over at least the next ten years, I question the wisdom in choosing a life partner at this age. I know so many smart, amazing girls with great potential. But something happens around their senior year of college, and all of the sudden the resume of experience they've been building becomes the laundry list of qualifications for marriage. Seeing the potential that many friends have to seize opportunities that our mothers would have killed for, I'm a little disappointed that careers have scarcely been considered. With the possibilities these young women have to impact the world around them, I have to ask: what's the rush on furnishing the living room?