my pastel pumpkin existential crisis
Okay, I’m inclined to tread lightly here, because I remember when I started seeing those teal pumpkins at every craft store, and I was like, “What the fuck are these? I hate them,” and then The Internet dot gov was like, “They signify that your house has safe treats for children with food allergies. You asshole.” And I do not want to make that kind of mistake again.
I put “pastel pumpkin” into three different search engines, and quickly amended my search term to “pastel pumpkin real”, because I’m not here to paint a craft pumpkin lavender, I’m here to BE A HATER. And this Architectural Digest article called “Never Buy an Orange Pumpkin Again” seems a prime jumping off point.
From this article I learned that pastel pumpkins are heirloom varieties, which means they’ve existed for 50+ years and are open-pollinated, i.e. non-GMO. This stands in stark contrast to what I assumed — that these pumpkins were recently genetically modified to appeal to Instagram users. At least this time it took me slightly longer to find out I was being an asshole?
Well, okay, I can still be mad about the disrespect of orange pumpkins. The writer of this article claims that pastel pumpkins are superior since they “require no prep work or pumpkin gutting because they come ready to display.” I resent the implication that gutting a pumpkin is not a vital component of celebrating Halloween — one that sets it apart from merely celebrating fall. And heirloom pumpkins do not lend themselves to this. Unless you are an exceptionally talented carver, you’re going to have a hell of a time fitting a face onto a pumpkin so short and wide and segmented. And furthermore, this person has really never seen decorative, un-carved orange pumpkins before???? Not even on Instagram???????? Just last week I drove past some stupid mansion with brick columns on each side of the driveway, and they were both sporting massive orange pumpkins that had clearly never felt the cool touch of a blade. The Instagram #pumpkindisplay hashtag reveals that the average pastel pumpkin aficionado will still keep a few orange ones around for variety.
Look, Halloween is my favorite holiday. And it’s not a close competition. Unlike its closest neighbors Thanksgiving and Christmas, Halloween is a low-stakes event meant to be celebrated with your friends. You do not need to prepare a gourmet dish, or agonize over expensive gifts; you can simply go to the grocery store and get a bag of candy (generally ranging in price from $4-$10). Any food preparation, and all other purchases, (pumpkins, pastel pumpkins, etc.) are opt-in. Also, Halloween does not feel the need to espouse a so-called positive message. Despite the free candy, it doesn’t superficially preach about generosity (while excusing the genocide upon which it was founded). It does not insist that the nuclear family is paramount, it does not posit that one religion (the same one responsible for said genocide) is of such great import that everyone else should just celebrate regardless. The most basic conceit of Halloween in the United States today is that pumpkins, ghosts, skeletons, candy, etc. are cool and awesome. That sometimes it’s fun and exciting for you and your friends to experience fear in a controlled setting, and to celebrate that fun and excitement, rather than dismissing it as shameful or dangerous.
I was raised evangelical, and I cannot tell you how often I encountered authority figures that either denounced Halloween entirely, or gently encouraged alternatives like church-sanctioned fall festivals or trunk-or-treat. I didn’t buy into this because I like Halloween too much; in fact, it made me incredibly defensive. Like, Halloween is evil because it might have Pagan roots, but Christmas trees are fine, even though they probably do? Consider Easter: a candy-based (and pastel) celebration of a technically undead figure. Nobody I knew ever celebrated Halloween’s true ancestor, All Saints’ Day — perhaps because saints were more of a Catholic thing, or because they decided it had simply been corrupted beyond salvation by the occult. To be frank, I find it a little disquieting that a moral-free, “friend holiday” was the only one church leaders (many of whom were also parents) openly decried. Let kids have fun with their friends! Don’t dress them as New Testament figures and parade them around a church parking lot! Seeing a jack o’lantern is not going to shake their faith, but you know what might? Insulating them against any and everything deemed un-Christian until they reach the point where they worry about going to hell if they so much as see a trailer for The Golden Compass.
I will entertain exactly one criticism of Halloween: that it’s somewhat plagued by classism. Wealthier children can afford more elaborate costumes; wealthier households can afford to give out larger pieces of candy, and more of them. This is true! No arguments here. Thanksgiving and Christmas are worse in this regard, though. In both cases, travel is often an expected component, and gas prices and air fare are insane. Christmas necessitates presents, and even inexpensive presents tend to cost more than full-sized candy bars. Also, there isn’t substantial inter-class gift-giving, despite what heartwarming movies might have you believe. Rich people buy expensive things for their rich children, and that’s that. But you can trick-or-treat in any neighborhood you can get to. Due to redlining and unreliable/a lack of public transportation, it may not be feasible to travel to McMansion Estates for Nerds Ropes and Reese’s Big Cups, but it is allowed. And “trick or treat” is just a formality these days. Your entitlement to free candy is not dependent upon the strength of your costume. Halloween could certainly stand to be more equitable, but I think we have bigger festive fish to fry in the meantime.
So what of pastel pumpkins, then? Do they cost more? Are they gatekept from the lower class? Can I hate them for being a status symbol? Let’s investigate.
I went to seven local pumpkin retailers, and only two of them priced pastel pumpkins higher than orange ones. In all cases, bigger pumpkins obviously cost more, but since orange pumpkins can evidently grow larger than pastels, they tended to be pricier. One place even capped the price of pastel pumpkins at $6, regardless of size; another charged by size exclusively. If you want to buy a pastel pumpkin in [REDACTED], New York, you can probably do so without bankrupting yourself.
Okay, then. Jesus Christ. Is there any valid reason to hate them?
Every fall I watch this Chris Fleming video, and then I often end up rewatching all of Gayle, episode 31 of which contains an updated version of the anti-Radiohead screed. And the screed sucks, because it’s supposed to suck, because Gayle Waters-Waters the person sucks, but in cases like these, I often think of, “Childhood is not supposed to be cool, alright? It’s supposed to be an unironic romp.” So when I see Halloween touted as an Aesthetic Holiday, and an Instagram holiday, and a Buying Shit At Target holiday, I get really bummed out. It’s like the Sad Beige phenomenon — I’m not going to denounce it for being modern and different from my upbringing, because I’m not a fascist, but as a former child, I cannot fathom its appeal. It doesn’t even appeal to me as an adult.
Halloween is my favorite holiday, but I am referring to the Halloween I celebrated as a child. The unironic romp. My peers have all transitioned seamlessly from Kid Halloween to Adult Halloween; I still find it difficult. Like, we’re putting on costumes just to stay in and get drunk? (I say this as a huge proponent of staying in and getting drunk.) I went to Halloween parties as a child, but they were not on Halloween. They were like pregaming for Halloween. Going trick-or-treating on October 31st was the true celebration of the holiday, just like eating mashed potatoes on the fourth Thursday in November or sitting under a decorated pine tree and opening presents on December 25th. But you can still participate in actual Thanksgiving and Christmas as an adult! You are not relegated to just mashing the potatoes or wrapping the presents. Christmas parties on December 22nd or whenever are not a consolation substitute for the actual holiday. And I don’t want to advocate for adult trick-or-treating because it just makes me feel like an absolute creep. I would rather die than show up on someone’s front porch, all, “How do you do, fellow kids?” So I go to these parties, and I carve orange pumpkins, and I buy bags of assorted mini candy bars to distribute, and I have fun, and I try not to acknowledge the gaping hole in it all.
I don’t know what I want. I don’t want candy — I can buy myself candy. It’s not about the candy, it’s about the acquisition process. It’s about who you acquire candy with. And even if I still lived in the same place as my old trick-or-treating buddies, we wouldn’t be able to go. I don’t think I’d want to go. I’m not a child. I don’t want to be a child again, because Halloween is one of the only things about it I actually miss. But I miss it so much.
And now I hate those pastel pumpkins for — more than anything else — making me fucking sad. And for what? Look at them. They’re too bland to expend any emotion on.
I think it’s time we turn our attention to the real evil here: whatever the fuck these abominations are.
