Sep. 6--I LOVE DRESSING UP. And I don't mean getting dolled up in my best and hitting the town.

Sure that's fun every once in a while, as it's always nice to to remind myself what I look like with make-up on. But when I say I love dressing up, I refer instead the act of putting on something ridiculous, preferably involving a wig, fake teeth or an eyeliner mustache.

Reading that over, I guess it's more accurate to say I love playing dress up. Which probably sounds strange at 35, but hey, I never claimed to be normal.

This obsession with incognito began at an early age, when visits to my friend Jenna's house invariably culminated in my donning, from her toy box, a faux grass skirt and pink Lai, layered overtop my favorite silky teal nightgown. It was in fact my favorite outfit of all time, and had that Hawaiinesque stuff not belonged to someone else, I'm pretty sure you would have seen me wearing it in my school photos. And perhaps on my wedding day.

At home, I always gravitated toward one of my two tutus (choice of white or pink), pairing them with either my mother's woven-leather slip-ons with the high wooden heel, or the hot pink pointy-toed pumps with the rhinestone toe embellishment that my grandmother had given me. Sarah Jessica Parker and that opening "Sex and the City" shot? So Katie Marie Long circa '79.

Fast forward to college and you'll see my roommate and I having contests to see who could look more '80s, given only 5 minutes and the contents of the other's closet. Or going to Kroger wearing boxers, wife beaters, riding boots and baseball caps, just to see what people would do. It was a common cure for our boredom, and however weird it may sound to the average human, a fairly regular occurrence at our house.

Since then -- thanks to everyday life, dress codes and a temporary unfortunate lack of oddballs in my social set -- my strange preoccupation with all things costume has had to take a back seat, this particular freak flag of mine flying, sadly, only at Halloween.

That is, until recently. When the stars aligned to bring me back together with several dress-up playin' fools like myself, once again. There are nights of wearing a cape to the bar. Afternoons spent scouring the Internet for the ideal Viking helmet or Flava-Flav-style clock. Just to have, you know, in case.

On our recent beach trip, my friend Angie and I actually brought suitcases filled with accoutrement: Hair pieces, hats and masks were tried on, traded, photographed and changed. Eyeliners, brow pencils and, yes, Crayola markers became instruments of facial hair -- mustaches, goatess and Fu Manchus in taupe, black, green and pink. Goggles were donned with sombreros, boas paired with a big, bushy fake beard. Tiaras worn with yarn dreadlocks. And I think every person there had a cotton-candycolored bob cut for at least one evening. All this after the kids went to bed, mind you.

Even as you read this, I'll be recovering from an awesome night spent as a fairy, surrounded by vampires, werewolves and shape shifters, at my dear friend Tyler's supernatural-themed surprise birthday party.

Further proof that while my wonderful friends and I may keep getting older, we never actually grow up.

Thank God.

KATIE McDOWELL is a staff writer for The Dominion Post. E-mail her at kmcdowell@dominionpost.com.

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