I'm the youngest of 9 kids. Did I already say that before?
As a result, I got a lot of hand-me-downs. A LOT. I'm sure that half the shoes I wore in elementary school should have been on a girl's feet.
The same was true for my Halloween costumes. You could always tell what my family members were before me by looking at the progression of costumes. From around 2-4 years old, I was a clown. That costume was horrific. It had this huge ruff (Is that what you call the thing that goes around the neck?) that was SO itchy. I hated wearing it and couldn't wait until I could get it off. The next few years involved the Batman cape my mom made. I was pretty much in love with that one, and tried to figure out how I could wear it the rest of the year without getting beat up at school. After that, I spent several years as the Grim Reaper.
Now, this costume was perfect for creating indelible memories. the robe was big enough, that it could be folded up on itself and tied with a belt around the waist. As a result, I got many more years of use out of that sucker than any of the others. The down side? The fabric for the robe was brown. Combine that with the "no weapons" policy at school, and you've got a perfect recipe for embarrassment. I'll walk you through it.
No scythe (There's your fancy word of the day.)
Yep. Every single kid in my class thought I was a monk for Halloween.
Combine this humiliation with the fact that my robe was made of some arctic thermal fabric that was 3 inches thick, and it was like I had my own sweat tent to carry around with me. I'm sure it was only 85-90 degrees that day, but in that thing it felt like I was walking around on the surface of the sun.