It’s the scariest time of the year for all macabre beings of the world, and no, I’m not talking about Halloween.
Christmas decorations have crept up onto store shelves.
When the month of October first arrived, I woke up with a smile, knowing that in the following days I’d find myself down some aisle as I looked for ways to aesthetically darken my dorm room. This feeling grew as my free day of the week drew closer, that is, until I checked Instagram one day.
A friend of mine, who also relishes in all things spooky, had posted an image he had taken at Target. At first, I thought it was a joke, but as I stared longer at the lines of skulls facing an army of snowmen, I realized that this was my new reality. The world has no more room for Halloween decorations.
Any conservative that speaks of a war on Christmas is unhinged and delusional; clearly the war is on our precious fall holiday.
When I younger, black and orange hues started making their way into stores in early September. First Michaels would stock up and then the others would follow. All the pastels and illusion of sweetness made space for a new type of decoration.
I don’t remember ever believing in Santa, so instead of discovering magic on the costumed lap of some poor fella in a shopping mall, I found it in morbid beauty. Every other month seemed so normal, so plain and conventional that it bored me. These few months felt like home. I was happy in the simplest, most delightful of ways.
It’s cheap now, material-wise at least.
Target’s rows reek of plastic and simplistic designs. Rather than putting out items that could actually serve as year round decor, as they have in the past, their items look overly fake. Even my beloved Michaels has lessened their output. There were two rows, maybe three, when I visited, and the options presented were minimal. Before, I never had to search to find their Halloween decorations; it actually took me a while this time.
As is with almost all my shopping as of late, I have to look online, unless I want to drive for an hour to get to World Market. I like the ease of shipping, but my heart longs to be able to walk into somewhere, anywhere, knowing I can find aisles overflowing with the weird and grotesque.
It could be the nostalgia of a hardened 21 year old talking, but I’m saddened. I really am. I’m an adult now. I have my own place, but it feels like I arrived at the party maybe a little too late. The games have been played and the guests have all gone their separate ways. The next party, the one with all the people I hated from high school, is already starting, and I’m forced to sit around and take it.
Oh where, oh where has my Halloween gone?
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