Halloween is not what it used to be.
Before I continue, warning: the following rant may contain a few “grumpy old man” moments.
Halloween was, for a long time, kind of sacred to me. I loved everything about it—the monsters, the movies, the decorations, the costume parades at school, and the way that, for a few weeks every October, the whole world seemed wrapped in a warm, fuzzy blanket of things that go bump in the night.
These days, though, some of the luster is gone.
Losing my wife, who was every bit the Halloween fan I was, certainly had something to do with it. Halloween will always carry a little of that loss for me now. But if I’m being completely honest, the shine had already started to wear off long before she passed.
I think one of the first signs came in the form of Spirit Halloween.
The first time I saw a Spirit store, I was genuinely excited. To me, it was basically Toys “R” Us for monster kids. You walked through the doors and suddenly you were surrounded by costumes, masks, creepy decorations, movie memorabilia and all kinds of things that, frankly, I didn’t need but absolutely wanted.
And at first, the stuff was pretty damn good.
They had a great selection of costumes, and I was especially impressed with the makeup and special-effects products. For those of us who grew up loving horror movies and Halloween, it felt like somebody had finally opened a store just for us.
I mean, this was a place where a grown man could walk in and seriously consider buying a Jason Voorhees bobblehead.
And yes, I was that grown man.
For a while, Spirit Halloween seemed to understand its audience. They weren’t just selling Halloween costumes. They were selling nostalgia. They were selling to the kids who grew up watching Friday the 13th, A Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween—the kids who had a poster of Freddy, Jason or Michael Myers on their bedroom wall instead of bands and sitcom stars.
My wife and I would make our annual pilgrimage to the store, usually with our nieces and nephews, and we’d wander the aisles while they hunted for costumes.
Those trips were part of the fun.
But somewhere along the way, I started noticing a decline.
The stuff that initially felt fun, clever and genuinely made for Halloween fans started getting replaced by an increasing amount of cheap, disposable junk. The novelty wore off. The aisles seemed less like a playground for monster kids and more like a warehouse of things designed to fill a shelf.
And eventually, I stopped seeing the magic.
The last time I was in Spirit Halloween was two years ago.
From what I see now, so much of what passes for Halloween merchandise seems to be mass-produced, soulless and increasingly filled with AI-generated garbage. Maybe that’s partly my nostalgia talking. Maybe I’m just getting older. Hell, I warned you there would be some grumpy old man moments.
But I don’t think that’s the whole story.
The other part of this that gets under my skin is the popularity of the horror genre. On one hand, I’m ecstatic to see so many people flocking to it. I’m not gatekeeping here. I love and embrace more people enjoying the genre that has brought me so much joy and peace. But it’s getting crowded.
Throughout elementary and middle school, I was ridiculed for wearing a Jason Voorhees tee (he has always been my favorite psycho). Aside from my father, the only person I had to talk shop with was my friend Melvin. We spent lunch in the hallway talking about horror, comics and all the other ’80s obsessions that are suddenly acceptable.
I mean, EVERYONE loves Weird Al now. NOBODY at my school was an open Weird Al fan when I was 12. Son of a… ahem. Sorry, remember the old man rant warning…
Within the crowd of new horror fans, something feels off to me. I’m seeing a trend: horror as an aesthetic, with no substance. Art the Clown tee? Check. Cool horror posters on the wall? Check. Creepy-cute Halloween decorations? Check. Everything looks perfect for the next Insta post, visually pleasing and clickbait ready. But if you dig into the reasons behind their love of horror, you may start to see what I’m talking about.
Nine times out of ten, when you ask an Insta-horror fan why they love the genre, you get generic answers. “It’s fun.” “It helps me face my fears.” They can hold a decent conversation for a few minutes, but eventually they run out of remembered material and the conversation falls flat. They can only pull from the most popular films, the ones everyone talks about. Ask what they thought of Ganja & Hess and they come up short. Bring up horror as a mirror to society and you might see something snap in their brain. Their love seems tied to the genre’s popularity.
And no, you don’t need to have seen every obscure film. Plenty of us started with the same popular ones. It’s the curiosity that’s missing.
Curiosity is what fueled my love of the genre. Horror of Dracula (1958) was my introduction to the character, and it sent me back to the 1931 Universal Dracula, which moved me to read the novel. Eventually I landed on Ganja & Hess, a vampire film like nothing I’d seen before. That’s what being a fan does to you: it makes you hungry for more. Good or bad, you devour it all because you feel like you have to. For your own well-being, not for clicks.
And finally, and I feel this may be where I lose some of you: the costumes.
If I have to talk to one more “sexy” character at a phucking Halloween party, I will vomit. Especially a “sexy” psycho.
Sexy Freddy Krueger? The dude murdered children! A short skirt and heels do not remove that character trait.
Sexy Leatherface? If you find any aspect of Leatherface sexy, You need help
As for the sexy nurse and nun bit, that brings up a whole new level of disturbance I’m not prepared to venture through today. You can face that on your own.
So no, Halloween isn’t what it used to be. But I’m not hanging up the mask yet. I’ve still got my monsters, my movies and a lifetime of weird. These days my Halloween nights are spent on the couch, a bowl of popcorn and an ice-cold Slurpee while I watch one of my comfort spooky movies.
Happy Halloween.
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