I spy with my little eye... the Day of the Dead.

Oh Halloween... Such a good excuse for bad behaviour! 
My love and hate history with Halloween started in Saudi. The French don't celebrate it so I experienced it for the first time as an expat. I was young, it was sweet and full of spooky tricks, but as an adult I am perplexed: I don't understand the whole sexy vibe. Why on Earth would you dress as a slutty soldier or Catwoman on the Day of the Dead? I might be missing a piece of information here so feel free to enlighten me. As far as I know, the concept is to embody scary or at least death related characters. Now I know that we, the French, call the climax "la petite mort" (the little death), but I doubt that the Alice in Wonderland, Popeye and charming Marine I bumped into last Thursday were aware of this lexical fact. In Halloween's case I'd rather stick to the literal meaning of death, therefore I went for a Mexican "Day of the Dead" makeup, with my now famous great grandmother's 1930 dress (black lace comes handy when referring to spiderwebs).
Thank you L. for hosting our lost souls!

A tribute to the Day of the Dead.

Hanging up doughnuts...

Halloween treats.

Torturing men.

Dear dead Elvis made a musical appearance.

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