(I know this is not the most flattering picture of me. We had already taken a picture with these folks, but they held me ransom until I gave them a few more euros, and I was a little startled by their grip. Stingy performance-types!).My Carnival dress-up hasn't happened yet, and, alas, this is not my year either. P has to work on All Hallow's Eve until 8 PM, and if you want to be in the Greenwich Village Parade (which I most certainly would, if I pulled together a fabulous Carnival guise), you have to be there around 7 PM. C'est la vie. There's always next year, right?
Why Carnival, you may ask? Well, I will be the first to acknowledge that I completely and totally romanticize almost everything, but especially places I've visited. Venice was such a spectacular, velvety mix of warm, sparkly windows, their light dancing on the gently lapping water and plush, sooty shadows, corridors that disappear into murky darkness. While we were there, I loved imagining a Carnival of 18th-century splendor spilling through the streets: the excitement of sauntering through the threadlike alleys unchaperoned and unseen; for one night, free from all social mores.
Okay, so I warned you: definitely romanticized. But still, Carnival really was a time when people got to be someone they weren't, if only for a moment -- a desire that clearly continues to drive the somewhat unseemly desire of adults to dress completely inappropriately one night a year.
This is another thing I love about Carnival
costumes. The costumes are seductive and compelling for what they don't reveal, rather than for all they do. When I troll the streets of NYC on Halloween, I am always embarrassed for the women who dress up as a whored-out version of a sexist stereotype (sexy nurse! sexy french maid! sexy joan jetson! sexy schoolgirl! I think you know what I'm talkin' about, right?) trying to be noticed. I much prefer the wondering what is under the costume to shielding my eyes against all that should have been.So, I'll continue to plan and imagine my brilliant Carnevale di Venezia costume, hoping that next year, I'll disappear into billows of fabric, rustle down shadowy side streets, and wait for P to discover who is really under the mask.
~L
2 comments:
I would like to give you writers' dues for your perfect description of Venice the timeless, and of Halloween gone skimpy.
PLEASE plan work off around the parade next year. How I'd love that post.
Dear Lindsay,
You are a girl after my own heart! I have always wanted to dress up in something mysterious and beautiful ever since I was a youth and saw Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. I completely agree that Halloween has gone to the pits (that are now visible in all the nasty costumes girls with low self esteem wear), and I have long desired to 'Masquerade' on my one night a year that dressing up for fun is acceptable!
Until then, I'll dress up as a pregnant slut and drag Casey, my "Hot Cop" around the ward party.
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