Saturday, November 1, 2008

*Sigh* le trente et un

I assume if you are reading this that you survived last nights festivities without being the designated human sacrifice. Always a bonus.
Halloween has always been near and dear to my little coeur de bois, even as a child I had a particular habit of dressing up in costume at least 300 days out of the year. (My adroit version of Tina Turner was always a hit with the Nuns- they adored my rendition of "Nutbush City Limits" -but as for my Ed Gein costume, they were less than enthusiastic...)
How queer you say? Oh please, that wasn't so offbeat, besides, my parents always made it their rule to celebrate my curious quirks, like my habit as a toddler of only drinking out of stemware.
(There are so many childhood photos of yours truly with stem glass in my hand, - plus ca change - but seeing that as an adult I will only drink coffee out of a Georgian silver gravy boat, that all seems pretty median as personal quirks go, don't you think?)
Anywhoosit, on Halloween in the FQ, our neighborhood cocktail-coven planned to gather and to hang and haunt the View Carre, to watch the "Krewe d' Boo" and various other parades and to otherwise party hop our way toward and long past the witching hour.
Upon my rising at the crack of noon, I found myself in a quandary about what to wear for the evenings assorted Cabals, throwing open the chifforobe I considered the options that were at my disposal - Hmmm, maybe Marie Antoinette at the beach? Ugh, no, the seaweed wig smelled of low tide.
Um, lets see... How about a conglomerate of themes? A mix of Shirley Temple/Jonestown- Peoples Temple Kool Aid massacre victim/Knights Templar perhaps? " I would go as a Shirley-people's Templar! But no, far too obscure.
My dazzling full on Celia Cruz drag? Mmmm, nope- just did that for July 4th.
I then gazed thoughtfully at the splendid full American Indian ceremonial getup -a gift from one of my Mam'Zelle's 10 husbands- Chief Smogchicken- but I 86'd that idea as the gay rodeo TGRA people were in town and you know how well that whole Cowboys and Indians thing went.
(Speaking of Indians, did you know your beloved Cornichon had an Indian name? Chief Smogchicken gave everyone in the family their own- my Mom's is "Flirts on Cruise Ship", My half Sister's is "Maxes out Mastercard" my Brother's was "Dances with Trust-fund" and my own is "Chops down Rose garden in Ballgown" -)
Anyway where was I? Oh yes, costumes....
I chose a rather august 19th century gentleman's ensemble all in black velvet with a comely bejeweled mask ala Venezia.
The bella camicia proved to be a bit too tight over my large American breasts, so I chose to wear the coat, my Victorian "X-Ray" corset and a long and majestically sweeping cape on their own over the britches and tall boots. It looked- in a word- "fetch"..... (Monsieur Moose knighted me "Count Cockula" and I in turn gave him his own Indian name- "Frolics at Williams-Sonoma")

Monsieur moose had the brilliant idea to dress a Dead 18th plantation owner, so quicker than you can say mausoleum in Greek, (μαυσωλείο ) we were off to visit mon oncle Nuncio at the family crypt for some quality family time and to perhaps borrow an outfit for the evening.
What? Ghoulish you say? Ghastly you titter? Mayhaps, but in this city, authenticity is something we regard highly, like Iced tea spoons.

Hitting the streets we all met up at the Peu de Joie Petrols before dancing down to view the parades. Madame and Chevalier Peu de Joie Petrol were divine as Capitaines Morgan et Morgana, Monsieur David was dressed as "Bedtime for Bigfoot" Sasquatch,
and the Lady Jane whipped the crowd into a frenzy as a "Where yat" un feu follet with an orange Anne Miller-esque wig that was two thirds her size.
Monsieur Johnny Custard was dressed as a zaftig Miss Iraq pageant contestant "Delta Burkha" and Comtesse D___ and consort were dressed as rather convincing Glampires in matching toile winding sheets- You know, I think Country French textiles for the dead (or undead) is going to be the next big thing.

Après le défilé très beau, we all trotted en masse to our fabulous friend Celestias "Satan's birthday party", as there was a literal cast of thousands packed into her Faubourg Marigny cottage, we only stayed a little while before exiting with an entire devils food cake and fork (Christofle Spatours pattern) supplied by our lovely hostess.

Munching away at the multi-layered gâteau de chocolat on route to another friends party -whose annual Halloween bash "Christmas is Cancelled- Kitty's Dead" is always une partie fabuleuse- I remarked to Monsieur Moose what a handsome corpse he made in the chimerical moonlight, even cuter than Uncle Nuncio, and softly sighing with contentment, we shared a tender kiss with the taste of chocolate icing and greasepaint on our lips.

Much later in the evening, one le Cornichons deah bartender friends Rebel, (Indian name- "Scampers with Labradoodles") came up with a simply scrummy drink in honor of my costume!

The Count Cockula!
2 oz 1800 Silver Tequila
1 oz strawberry puree
1/2 oz mango puree
1/4 oz simple syrup
6 mint leaves
1 splash club soda
In a tall mixing glass, gently muddle mint with simple syrup. Add 1800 Silver tequila and purees then pack with ice and shake vigorously. Pour contents into a highball glass -or gravy boat- and top with club soda. Yumz.
And yes, the narrator says: " He believes the history Horrendipity written here..."

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zeitgeist, particular friend, perky libertine, animated trickster, iconoclast, rabble-rouser, object of worship, provocateur, capricious damp enchantress, idiosyncratic beloved reptile, whimsical saucy booze hound, bellwether, luminary, stoic, pensive illicit paramour, aloof, engaged, intuitive, curious, perplexing deranged mastermind, passionate, lasciviously adored offspring, amorous, sultry flamboyant charioteer, scholar, scribe, exalted thespian, voracious, considerable chieftain, impaired, cynical colleague, dreamer, procrastinator, loathsome glutton, artist, oppressed peasant, dainty heathen, narcissist, self-loathing...renaissance man