We have a pretty good record of getting cast out of every Catholic community we stumble into. This is good news, because it means we never have to make costumes for All Saints Day (we do have fun making Halloween costumes, though).
But how about you? Did you suddenly realize that, in a fit of good Catholic momming, you promised to whip up costumes for both days? I’m here to save your bacon. These costumes are suitably edifying for any church-sponsored party, but edgy enough to earn you all the Mary Janes and Raisinets you can eat on October 31.
Your most obvious twofer choice is martyrs. Grab whatever weapon catches your fancy in the Halloween aisle, and you’re guaranteed to find some Catholic somewhere who was killed with it. We’re just that popular! Buy two tubes of blood, one for the gorefest and one for pious reenactments, and you’re set.
Hilarious on October 31:
Everybody loves a good sight gag:
especially when it’s Biblically sound:
And finally, you can terrify the normals with this fantastic cephalophoric illusion:
Or, well, terrify the normals with something from the more obscure annals of martyologies.
(Not recommended: St. Agatha)
But there are non-bloody saints, too, and even some adorable sidekicks. You wear a ratty bathrobe and skip showering for a week or two, and you can pass as either a civic-minded individual tirelessly lobbying for societal and legal acceptance of an all-natural homeopathic remedies
And who’s this tagging along behind you?
Awww, it’s da widdle wolf of Gubbio! Or a werewolf, take your pick.
Who doesn’t appreciate the time, effort, expense, and attention to detail that goes into a great mummy costume?
Replace that sinister moan and lumbering gait with a fervent gleam in the eye and a pleasant, un-decompopsed scent, and you become, ovulously, Lazarus:
Here’s an idea which clearly marks you as one of those people who may be a little bit too enthusiastic about Halloween for someone your age:
But wait! With a few tweaks done in a sensitive and reverent way, you could easily be St. Christopher.
But don’t tell anyone it was my idea.
In closing, here is a joke I will keep telling until someone else thinks it’s funny. You can buy a Dobby mask, and BOOM, Curé of Ars.
What’s that you say? What are my kids going to be this year, if I’m so smart? I’ll give you a hint: So far I’ve sewed two furry leg warmers together, hemmed a black cloak, spray painted a few acorns gold, and bought some tulle that was on sale, and also kind of a lot of fake teeth. That’s right: We’re going, en masse, as the domestic church, and I just dare you to get in our way.