Okay so this whole thing started when I needed a killer costume for this dive bar Halloween bash downtown. Decided on white trash woman – gotta have fun with it, right? Figured it’d be easy peasy, just grab some junk clothes. Oh, how wrong I was.
The Hunting Grounds
First stop: my own closet. Dug deep. Found this awful faded pink sweatpants with “Juicy” peeling off the butt – perfect trashy foundation. Score one. Then raided my husband’s tee drawer. Found a truly tragic old band tee, like XXL huge, covered in questionable stains near the collar. Grabbed that too. Now for the real hunt. Hit up the local sketchy thrift store downtown. Was digging through racks like a raccoon in a dumpster. Found the ultimate prizes:
- A leopard print fleece zip-up, way too small. Threads hanging everywhere.
- Cheap-ass plastic slides with zero support, already cracking.
- A worn-out velour headband in puke green. Perfect for that greasy hair look later.
Operation “Make It Worse”
Got home, spread everything on the kitchen floor – became my war room. Time to trashify. Started with the sweatpants. Cut jagged holes near the knees, like I tripped over my own damn feet walking to the trailer. Grabbed an old tube of brown grease paint from my kid’s makeup set. Dabbed it along the holes and rubbed it in with my finger like real dirt.
Next up: the giant band tee. Needed that classic “I can’t be bothered” vibe. Chopped the neckline real wide and sloppy with kitchen scissors. Pulled it down kinda lopsided off one shoulder. Then, remembering that greasy look? Rubbed actual vegetable oil carefully on the collar and under one armpit spot. Subtle but nasty.
The leopard fleece? It was too “new” looking. Threw it on the patio concrete and kinda scuffed it around with my foot. Seriously. Then dragged the sleeve lightly against the brick wall to rough up the print a little.
Accessories & The Finishing Touches
Searched the junk drawer. Found an empty cigarette pack – crushed it flat and jammed it in the sweats pocket with a dollar bill corner sticking out like my last buck. Dug through my kid’s forgotten hair stuff. Found some cheap plastic butterfly hair clips – super sticky with old hairspray gunk. Perfect. Piled my hair into a greasy high ponytail, used the puke green headband to push back flyaways, clipped those grungy butterflies in awkward spots.
Makeup time: Went for broke. Loaded on bright blue dollar store eyeshadow, smudged it like I slept in it. Piled on clumpy mascara with big spider lashes. Went super heavy with orangey powder foundation that didn’t match my neck AT ALL. Drew fake cig wrinkles around my mouth with brown eyeliner. Finished with a line of cheap purple lipstick way outside my lips.
Slipped on those terrible slides – made a horrible flopping noise every step. Stuffed everything into an old plastic grocery bag as my “purse”. Instant masterpiece.
The Grand Reveal
Wore this thing to the party. Felt ridiculous. Looked hilarious. Got stares, laughs, some disgusted looks – all perfect. Won 3rd place in the costume contest! Mostly because my plastic slide broke halfway through the walk to accept the cheap trophy, and I genuinely face-planted in my greasy fleece. Crowd went wild. Pure trash magic. Learned my lesson? Trash couture ain’t simple. It takes effort to look that lazy.
