So no one guessed what I was going to be for Halloween. Guess that’s cause
no one cares I made the clues too hard.
If you couldn’t already tell from the title of this post, I was Nicki Minaj!
Or, as her friends (and crazy inner voice) sometimes call her.. Roman:
Let’s back up a bit first though, shall we?
Pulling off a Nicki Minaj costume as amazing and true-to-life as this one was no easy feat. First I had to find the perfect wig and accessories:
Then, I had to scour the mall along with all the other last-minute
WhoreHall-o-weeners to find the outfit. The tank top and leggings are from American Apparel (which was basically extortion. $50 for leggings? I am wearing them every day to justify this) and the tutu I had from last year when I was a ballerina:
“Upcycling” at its finest.
Tutus are amazing, by the way, and should totally replace Spanx. They circumvent all that uncomfortable squeezing and smoothing by simply covering your entire midsection with layers of fluffy pink tule.
Then I spent a good 2 hours putting makeup on:
Seriously. I had so much makeup on that it actually hurt my face. I don’t know how b*tch does it.
In the end I think I pulled off a respectable Nicki. Although I was no Sophia Grace…
I was all ready to go and then… disaster struck. I opened the fridge to get my bottle of wine for the party, and it tumbled off the condiment shelf, cascading towards the ground. I dove to save it like a wide receiver, screaming “Nooooooooooo” in a sort of slow motion, distorted groan… but it was too late. It hit the ground and smashed into a million pieces, the wasted sweet nectar spilling all over the floor. It felt like this scene in The Spy who Shagged me when Austin Powers drops his Mojo.
I realize that this analogy is actually sad on many levels.
Since lapping it up would have been too dangerous (even for me), I was left to pick up the pieces.. both literally and figuratively. I mourned all of the good times we could have had together while sweeping. That particular bottle was extra special to me because, while buying it, I had bonded with the checkout lady at the liquor store over my nails.
She complimented me on my great manicure, and I was like “oh, It’s not actually a manicure, it’s these new Sephora nail polish strips”. Then she was all “Cool! it’s perfect for Halloween, without being too over the top”. and I was like “that’s EXACTLY the look I was going for!”
………And then the guy in line behind me got pissed off. So we parted ways. But I’ll always have the memories.
I searched my fridge for something to take its place, and found half a bottle of vodka in my freezer. I worried that it might no longer be good, because, as Lucille Bluth taught us, if you don’t drink the whole bottle after you open it, it goes bad.
But I am happy to report that all worked out OK. Depending on your definition of “OK”..
My friends were dressed as “birds of a feather” and luckily tolerated having Nicki in their presence even though that makes no sense and would never happen IRL.
After a little pre-game, where I forced everyone to listen to “My jams” while I rapped (badly), we hit up a Halloween party at the Toronto hipster bar Parts and Labour.
I had a few reservations going in, given that the theme of the event was “A Smithfits Halloween”; a tribute to british indie-rockers The Smiths and horror-punk group The Misfits.
I wasn’t quite sure how Nicki and all of her VaVa Voom would fit in.. but agreed to go anyway.
Man, they took this theme seriously. Those who weren’t dressed as Danzig or Morrissey had cool, indie costumes… like John Travolta from Pulp Fiction or Scully from the X-Files.
The downstairs bar, which is usually a sweaty hip-hop dance party, had been transformed into an emo post-punk shoegazing fest, full of kids with painted skull faces swaying to “There is a Light That Never Goes Out.”
And I’m just there in my tutu, like “Can we get some SuperBass up in here?”
Morrissey would not have been impressed.
Anyway we bailed pretty soon to get poutine. Then stood on Queen Street West trying to hail a cab for almost an HOUR. Torontonians are mad serious about Halloween. Mad.
Then, when I got home I watched last week’s episode of Parks and Recreation which made me CRY LIKE A BABY.
And as I sat there, eating my saline-tinged french fries, openly weeping over Lesley Knope and Ben Wyatt’s engagement… I thought maybe, just maybe, this is a new low for me.
Then I remembered the smashed wine bottle.
Sigh. What could have been