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The Evolution of A Clemson Halloween Costume in 10 Simple Steps

Clemson Halloween is a special celebration, and us ladies like to celebrate by adding unnecessary stress to our already-stressful lives in the form of excessive costumes. While every costume is different, the process of finalizing that costume is one in the same. Here, we reveal that process.

10.) No stress, no stress, no stress:
The moment your mind first settles on Halloween in all its glory you still have about three page flips in your agenda until the actual date. Your pretty little mind doesn’t quite comprehend that Halloween is a weeklong bender that you’ll need to plan at least three different outfits for three different events with three different groups of people. 

9.) The group chat:
Your annoyingly Type A friend will begin the group chat in which everyone will share her wildly impractical group costume ideas. Every single one will be turned down for a variety of reasons: too expensive, too complicated, too unoriginal, so original that no one will understand it, etc. You’ll share about 149 texts, but don’t be fooled: you still have zero plans.  

8.) Internal strife:
You come to notice that that girl you invited into your costume group chat out of the goodness of your hearts—who you really don’t even like that much anyway—hasn’t responded to your TY Beanie Baby costume idea, which obviously everyone adores. A little digging uncovers that the mutinous betch has joined another costume group; they’re being crayons. Whatever, Beanie Babies > crayons. 

7.) Trimming the fat:
The group chat is dead. Out of the 10 girls who were just days ago so into your TY Beanie Babies idea, only 5 remain. It’s fine, though. A smaller group will be easier to Instagram. And crayons are stupid.  

6.) Panic:
You’ve been slaving over your classes and that sorority philanthropy event and the fraternity you know will make you sweetheart if you just bake them one more batch of bacon maple cupcakes when you suddenly realize that Halloweekend is a mere three days away. You have to make your TY Beanie Babies costume ASAP Rocky and a trip to the Anderson Michaels might as well be considered a daycation, considering the time it requires. You’re so screwed. 

5.) Confirm panic:
You text the new group chat– crayons be damned– to see how the other girls are coming along with their costumes. They all share their totally legitimate excuse as to why they haven’t even begun to think of their costume construction. You’re all on the same page, at least. You plan a costume-making party for the following evening, and one of the girls promises to bring a bottle of wine to spice up the process. Cease panic… for now.

4.) The “costume-making party”:
You show up 30 minutes late to the party only to discover that the first bottle of wine has already been destroyed, and your friends are well on their way to destruction themselves. No scissors, no construction paper, no costume-making. Just wine. Oh well, you needed a girls’ night anyway, and you have time to make the costume tomorrow. The day before. It’s totally cool.  

3.) It’s not totally cool:
The crayons have already Instagrammed their costumes and they are immaculate. They’ll look even better when they’re on. And there’s glitter. You wonder if they even make glitter crayons. You vow to skip your classes and convince your costume pals to do the same. It’s for the Beanie Babies. Do it for the Beanie Babies. 

2.) The inevitable discovery:
You aren’t crafty. Your friends aren’t crafty. Your Beanie Baby ear tags look like melted science projects. There’s no way you can wear them in public, especially considering the quality of the enemy crayon clan’s getups. Time for Plan B. 

1.) You’re a cat:
You somehow knew it would come to this all along. You even managed to find your cat ears 2 weeks ago in the black hole that is your costume box. You and your friends justify the laziness that is your decision with claims like “we’ll look so good in black” and “boys don’t even like girls with crazy costumes.” You promise that next year, you’ll do better.  

Spoiler alert: you won’t.

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