This is an edited and updated version of a column that first ran in the
Oct. 28, 2005 edition of The Citizen:
There's nothing more liberating for a man than dressing up in women's clothes.
The hair.
The makeup.
The nail polish.
The bra (well, some dudes need chest support all year-round, but that's what a man-siere, also known as a "bro", is for).
The panties.
The dress.
The nylons.
The shoes.
Unfortunately, Halloween is considered the only day socially appropriate for most men to leave the masculinity at home and spray on some Chanel No. 5 to top off that sweet little number that highlights our shapely legs.
Men who wear women's clothes at other times of the year are sadly subjected to scorn and given meaningless titles that end in the word sexual, which describe what they're wearing far more than what they're feeling.
But I digress.
I've dressed up as a woman twice for Halloween, most recently in 2001, and it was a hoot both times. My colleagues really know how to treat a lady.
When I walked into The Citizen newsroom on Oct. 31, 2001, my red wig pinned perfectly in place and my lacy C-cup bra housing sports socks, I went first to Bernice Trick's desk to offer her some Halloween candy.
Meanwhile, associate news editor Kyle Storey, a seasoned gentleman of impeccable taste, who only saw the hypnotic sway of my behind (pardon me - who only saw me from behind), was out of his chair and heading over to offer assistance to the full-figured yummy mummy who had just sauntered into the newsroom.
Everything changed when he heard me talking to Bernice.
He stopped so fast you can still see the skid mark on the carpet.
Earlier in the day, I had been up at UNBC. When Erin, a post-doctoral student friend of mine, had to stop her vehicle at the crosswalk to let me by, I thought she hurt her neck for sure with the double-take she gave me before howling with laughter.
I waved delicately back and marched to the class I was taking, sweetly smiling at all my young co-ed admirers.
Brodie Garrison knows what I'm saying when I talk about the power of wearing women's clothes. The former Citizen pressman (he's now an excellent RCMP constable in Mackenzie) suited up in fishnet stockings, a short skirt and even a thong for Halloween in 2004 and said he loved the experience.
Being a grubby monster is how women see men for most of the year so slapping on some makeup and a dress shatters expectations.
Suddenly, we're new, exciting and a little dangerous. And then there's the courage in forsaking our precious manliness. No costume better captures the spirit of Halloween for a man than to switch gender.
The day is about having fun by dropping our identity in favour of something completely different, or as Bruce Springsteen put it, "wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face."
It's the one chance each year to leave behind that bored mug we see in the mirror for a new persona.
Most feminists like to ignore the fact that masculinity, like femininity, comes with its own socially-oppressive rules. When you don't quite follow the rules, your fellow members of society, male and female, are often quick to try to force you back into line.
Flipping the bird to those rules for a day is past liberating, it's intoxicating.
Just like the taste of well-applied lipstick.
Happy Halloween!
-- Managing editor Neil Godbout
