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Costume Capers

  • Writer: Erik Austin
    Erik Austin
  • Oct 3
  • 2 min read

October always makes me think about Costume Capers, where I spent a good chunk of my life. 

I miss seeing Keith, Debi, Brandon, Mark, Buffy, Sarah, and Linae. So, I wrote a little poem about it—my way of keeping those memories alive.

Some places close their doors, but they never really leave you. Costume Capers will always be October to me. 🎃🖤


It smells like latex and face paint, 

like dusty velvet capes pulled from overstuffed racks. 

We tore open delivery boxes, 

and somehow, we were always a little behind.


The sounds of ka-chunk of the old-school price gun, 

stamping overinflated numbers on tags

We packed that place until it could hardly breathe— 

seeing friends we only saw once a year, 

Overflowing with Halloween waiting to be born.


At Costume Capers, everything pulsed with October— 

Keith’s laugh bouncing off the racks in his Disney Hawaiian shirts, 

Debi washing, mending, always hunting for something 

we could never quite find, 

while we tripped over giant dogs 

and I scribbled rental contracts, 

making up prices that sounded half-insane, 

because who else knew the going rate 

for a gypsy on a Tuesday in October?


And somewhere in the chaos, 

Debi’s famous meatloaf sandwiches appeared— 

miracles on handmade bread, 

mayonnaise and all, 

devoured between costume changes.


We worked like vampires chasing sunrise— 

insane hours, hardly any breaks— 

but it didn’t matter. 

Because at Costume Capers, Halloween wasn’t just a day on the calendar. 

It was a season, 

a heartbeat, 

a world of its own

built under fluorescent lights 

and the smell of new costumes and worn wigs.


I’m sad it’s gone now— 

the doors closed, 

the shelves empty, 

the laughter faded. 

But I’ll always carry the way it felt to be part of something so perfectly, 

deliriously, 

October at Costume Capers

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