Way. Like 1982 way. So, 30 years?
Halloween, the year of my fourth, was the first time I chose what I was going to dress up as. I had a very specific costume in mind. Page 4 of the storybook that accompanied my Sleeping Beauty 45 record.
MALEFICENT. Standing in orange and lime flames, looking majestic and scary. That’s what I wanted to be. Mom, who made all my doll clothes, including matching ensembles for me and my Cabbage Patches, made me a black cloak with carefully cut out felt flames all across the bottom and dyed-to-match-the-page purple tights.
I was on fire before The Hunger Games had even begun to fanfic.
The response from my adoring audience? “Oh, look! You’re a witch!”
“No. Not a witch,” I told them. “I’m MALEFICENT.”
