Costume Party Time

Speaking of parties, as Ken and I got older, we attended numerous costume parties held in the garden of our friends Rollie and Edith, who were fabulous host/hostess. Edith came up with a particular theme and then alerted all her guests.  Although the parties were always fun, Ken and I dreaded that phone call from Edith. It meant we had to rack our brains to come up with an appropriate costume.  There was one couple who made an easy costume choice - every year they arrived wearing red and green wigs.  However, we entered into the challenge and came up with some great creations.

For the Depression Era theme, Ken draped himself in newspaper headlines declaring the stock market collapse.  I dug out an old suitcase, decorated it with slogans like 'California, here I come!' and 'Brother, can you spare a dime?', and dressed up like a hobo.

On another occasion we borrowed outfits from a devotee of the Society of Medieval Anachronism - Ken became a monk, and I an abbess.

A total contrast was the time I turned myself into a belly dancer (wearing bifocals) and Ken became a chubby-cheeked sultan (he was on prednisone at the time).

One unforgettable party with the theme of 'artists' saw poor Ken portraying Emily Carr.  I dressed him in a dark dingy frock and he wore a turban (Emily often had her hair wrapped in some form of covering). He clutched an artists paint palette and carried a stuffed monkey (Emily had a pet monkey that often accompanied her).  I, on the other hand, donned one of those naughty t-shirts showing the outline of a curvy, sexy babe (I was supposed to be an artist's model). It must have been quite effective because one old guy kept leering at me all afternoon.

One year, the hostess with the most-est declared the theme was Ascot races.  Ken turned out in a silky looking jogging suit representative of a jockey, a specially decorated bike helmet, Queen's plate stuck on his chest (a paper plate bearing a picture of the Queen) and a pair of Jockey underpants pinned to the rear of his jockey outfit.  As the ladies attending Ascot are noted for their fancy headgear, I decorated an old hat with fresh hydrangeas which proved to be quite effective.

Another party had a circus theme. Ken appeared as a two-headed person, utilizing an old wig stand and wig.  I searched the garage and located a discarded pith element and immediately became a lion tamer with a whip.

One of our more inspired efforts were the outfits we wore for the 'dry' t-shirt party. Ken wore an old t-shirt on which I had glued many many golf tees. My t-shirt was studded with many tea bags, each one sewn on by hand.

There was the pyjama party, with me wearing beach pyjamas and Ken forced into an old pair of my pyjamas, and sporting a wig set with rag rollers, and cheeks spotted with painted-on freckles. He 

carried a well-loved teddy bear.

 

There was a 1900's theme party:

But we outdid ourselves for the Oscar themed party.  I walked in as Judy Garland, portraying Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, complete with braids and the famous red shoes.  Ken was an Oscar-winning writer-producer.  If you've ever watched the Oscars, you may have noticed some of the award recipients can be very 'over the top' with their acceptance speeches.  Ken dressed the part of a 'hip' guy - white shirt, bow-tie, red suspenders, an earring, white running shoes and that annoying five o'clock shadow-look (I smudged some kind of soot around his chin and mouth), and of course - sunglasses and backwards ball cap.  His acceptance speech (for a re-write of Gone With the Wind) was written on a roll of toilet paper and went on and on and on.  He thanked his Grade One teacher, his first wife, his second wife, etc.  We won best prize that year - a bottle of Rollie's potent home-made plum wine. 

Those were the days, my friend, we thought they'd never end...but, sadly, they did....