6dchi8ejbfgka67

the essentials

(FOR HALLOWEEN)

text

tim ross |

photography

michelle glew-ross (family)

WORDS OF WISDOM FROM OUR RESIDENT FUNNYMAN & FURNITURE/DESIGN EXPERT TIM ROSS

I FEEL LIKE I TURNED AWAY FOR TWO SECONDS and

suddenly every public restroom had an Ambulant Toilet,

people started doing some bizarre thing called vaping and

everyone had completely endorsed Halloween.

When I was a kid I only went trick or treating once. A friend

from up the road turned up in a rubber Yoda mask his dad

had bought in America. I grabbed my leopard-print doona

cover and chucked it over my head (I was an

’80s ghost) and off we went. We had limited

luck extracting goodies out of the neighbours

because none of them had been prepared.

All we’d managed to haul was a couple of

chocolate biscuits and some apricot delights

from an old lady in a yellow velour jumpsuit.

But that changed when we hit pay dirt at

a large brick-veneer two-storey house three

courts away. The woman who answered the

door thought we were friends of her son. She

told us he was at Scouts and then loaded us

up with a bag of Violet Crumbles. Just as we

were walking down the driveway she ran out

the door and handed me a Tupperware cake

container, asked me to give it to my mum and say thanks

again for the carrot cake. I took it, returned home sick from

eating half the bag of Violet Crumbles and gave the container

to Mum who just shrugged and put it in the cupboard.

Today, every house seems to be ghoulishly decorated for

weeks before and after Halloween. Mums raid the discount

variety shops and spread fake cobwebs all over the front

of the house and pull out battery-operated ghosts with red

flashing eyes and mechanical skeletal hands that point

menacingly at the party poopers across the road who refuse

to partake in the paranormal.

From what I can see, it’s become more competitive than

street Christmas decorations and is now yet another way

styling obsessed mums can pilfer ideas off Instagram to get

one up on their neighbours. It’s also become much more than

an afternoon out for the kids, with parents dressing up and

tagging along under the guise of safety – but somehow,

everyone ends up at Sonia’s place drinking until 2am.

You may think I’m a Halloween cynic who

puts on a Sarah Wilson costume and gives the

kids a cup of bone broth and a carrot stick when

they come knocking, but you’d be wrong. I have

no issue with Aussies adopting this American

tradition because it’s fun. I don’t particularly

care for the decorations but I do enjoy using

our dressed-up kids for my own advantage.

Last year I piled the kids into the car, drove

20 minutes north and parked conveniently

around the corner from a fantastic 1960s

house that I’d always been curious about.

We tacked onto a group of families doing the

rounds of the neighborhood. Before we knew

it the kids were knocking on the door of this

drool-worthy house and happily taking a couple of Cherry

Ripes off the owner. At just the right moment I swooped and

said, “I love your house, who’s the architect?”. Quicker than

you could say Zombie Home Invasion the kids were playing

in the backyard with the dog and jumping on their trampoline.

Meanwhile, I’d had the guided tour, been given the history

of the house and was poring over the architectural plans on

their kitchen table with a glass of shiraz in my hand. All while

dressed as Where’s Wally. How can you not love Halloween? R

You can email Tim with your tips for perving on other people’s homes at

[email protected] or follow him on Instagram @modernister

“WE HAD

LIMITED LUCK

EXTRACTING

GOODIES

OUT OF ANY

OF THE

NEIGHBOURS

B E C A U S E

NONE OF THEM

HAD BEEN

PREPARED”

DRESS UP

LATTJO EAGLE

COSTUME,

$34.95, IKEA.

DECORATE

GRINNING

PUMPKIN PIÑATA,

$35, PARTIES

ONLINE.COM.AU

TREAT!

CHERRY RIPE,

$1.99 EACH,

WOOLWORTHS.

LOVING

@reallivingmag

46