For God’s sake, please stop this nightmarish Halloween trend.

The following is a quick rundown of my Halloween itinerary in the coming weeks: A colleague is hosting what she calls a “Glen Powell-themed party,” where guests are encouraged to arrive in a costume that pays homage an ordained captain represents Hollywood’s recent events. (She bought a life-size cardboard cutout of the man for decoration.) A friend, unlucky enough to have her birthday on a beautiful October weekend, asked us all to dress up as “jesters, pranksters, mimes, harlequins”—every other archetype within the larger clown diaspora. (I smeared thick lines of black face paint under my eyes and turned into a Juggalo.) Another party next Saturday is themed “Villains,” meaning we can appear as anyone from Freddy Krueger to Joe Lieberman Boss. And on the first day of November, my fiancée and I are hosting something really spooky – “Broadween” with a guest list who all have to recreate a character from their favorite musical. (I was given marching orders to dress up as a presenter cabareta show I’ve never seen before and I’m not sure what to expect.)

You’re probably sensing a pattern here. Halloween is fundamentally a celebration of our culture’s most phantasmagorical visions—it’s a chance to sip beer through plastic teeth on a magical evening in a friend’s kitchen. But unfortunately, other cultural forces have made Halloween more demonic and frightening than ever before. In short, the most wonderful holiday on the calendar has become infected with the theme party, transforming a once perfectly legible tradition—dressing up as something spooky, preferably at the last twilight of October—into a tantalizing array of allusions and meanings that are often matched the exact taste of the host. Gone are the vampire fangs and fake blood splatters; I will never cut eye holes into white sheets again. Instead, it looks like I’ll be spending the rest of the month watching Netflix Everyone but youor even worse, killer– for aesthetic inspiration. Absolutely creepy. A fate worse than death. Something went terribly wrong!

I’m not the only one who noticed this. When the topic of hyper-niche Halloween-themed parties was brought up on the Slate Slack channels, several of my colleagues lamented the threatening rising tide. Slate culture writer Sam Adams called them the “destination weddings” of the holiday calendar, while senior writer Scaachi Koul was more direct, asserting that if I invited her to the upcoming Broadween, she would simply “never speak to me again.” (“There will be 40 people dressed like this cats,” She continued.) Similarly, three weeks ago on the frighteningly active r/Halloween subreddit, a poster glorified what they perceived as a slow decay of Halloween’s core principles. The headline read, “Halloween parties don’t need a theme, Halloween IS the theme,” and the author likened the stylistic micro-differences that permeate our October attire to “putting a hat on a hat”—a convincing comparison, if I have one ever read one.

Reactions to the thread were characteristically divided. Some people actually believe that an extra layer of costumed decorum can provide stability to those who chronically worry that they may be under- or over-dressed for the season. (I was reminded of the image of a woman in full Babadook regalia sitting in silence at a very grown-up-looking dinner party.) I understand that feeling – one of the biggest stressors of Halloween is determining the exact level of ambition or frivolity should make it work. But as another commenter clearly pointed out, perhaps the goal of a Halloween party should be the expression of one Mood, instead of imposing a strict dress code. Do you want your guests to look scary? Dumb? Funny? A chimera of all three? Anyway, the topic should be flexible– capable of catering to hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of different looks. (For example, according to Google’s listing of the most popular Halloween party themes in 2024, “Monster Mash” is beautiful and malleable, while “Hello Kitty” quickly pushes attendees into an awkward corner.)

And even more practical: How many costumes do I expect to have on hand?? In this particularly crowded October, there’s a good chance I’ll have four – four! – go through different outfits, each tailored to the host’s specific requirements. The clown regalia is just not appropriate for the villain party, let alone the Broadway event. I already know I’m going to make multiple trips to Party City—literally the most inhospitable place in the Western Hemisphere—and that’s making me want to freak out. (I need to get a Frank Booth costume. Does anyone know where I can buy cheap oxygen masks? I’m trying not to go broke here.) A bedsheet ghost would have been welcome anywhere in a kinder, gentler era on Halloween. But given my schedule, my only hope is that Glen Powell gets a role Casper Restart by the end of the week.

I just can’t help but think that we were a healthier and happier society in a time when Halloween clothing didn’t exist clever. I can remember a time when there were maybe, I don’t know, seven costumes available to the general public. (I was in high school in 2007 when The Dark Knight came out. Every teenager in the country dresses up as a Heath Ledger joker. We were free.) Compare that to the distorted Halloween of 2024, where all outfits must display a kind of toxic internet literacy — a rote, insane awareness of the things people are talking about. The most popular costumes of the year include Australian breakdancing sensation Raygun and a literal burrito from Chipotle. In the meantime, Spirit Halloween has one in store Hawk Tuah costume this year. It costs 50 dollars. I don’t know who is responsible for such a hellish development, but I’m sure there are a lot There are plenty of dark parties planned in the coming weeks, with the ensemble perfect for the occasion.

Again, I know that I am part of the problem. Broadween is the second time my partner and I have hosted a party with detailed dressing instructions. Two years ago we hosted a Halloween evening with the theme of “personal sexual awakening” – a wonderfully debauched evening that also provided a very intimate look into the souls of our loved ones. (Guests came dressed as Bono, April O’Neil and Buzz Lightyear, perhaps the most infuriating.) However, we are not tyrants when it comes to the matter. My fiancée and I have welcomed with open arms friends who are too shy or have too much self-respect to take the lead at our events. Would you rather stay at home and catch the next person in a t-shirt and jeans? That’s okay too. But the truth is, I enjoy a great costume party, even if it comes with the risk of having three or maybe even four Alexander Hamiltons waiting in the bathroom. However, in the future, we may save these themes for other areas of the calendar outside of October so we can enjoy the sacredness of the Halloween season: A room full of ghouls and goblins living in the Halloween season Moment.