October is a special month for me.

A lot of folks will tell you that September is when the weather starts to turn, but they are a bunch of fools. Fall really kicks into gear around what I have always known as the “orange-month,” a fabsnabulous time of year where the leaves are a-fallin’ and the ladies are a-callin’.

Fall is like spring, but with a bite, so I guess it’s like Barq’s Root Beer. Now, I must confess that I am a lover of light jackets and long sleeve shirts. Nothing is more comfortable than a pair of worn jeans and a nice dark sweater during the month of orange.

The leaves fall in droves, shades of chestnut, apple, and pumpkin. Gusts of wind turn them into tiny tornados. There is some rain, but for the most part it’s just cloudy – this gives the season a foreboding touch that is its edge over summer, winter, and spring.

Now, a lot of people love summer because it translates into bikinis and other skimpy assortments. To be perfectly honest, I prefer my presents wrapped.

What’s better than watching a potential lady-friend walking down the road, arms crossed to protect from chilly winds, in tight form-fitting jeans? She turns to catch a glimpse of her spectator and as she does her hair flits in the air – this image alone is enough to knock a guy off his feet.

With each layer of clothing, there is an added amount of mystery. That is what fall and orange-month are all about. It’s one long mystery film and its culmination comes with one of my favorite holidays – Halloween.

Another year, another chance at greatitude.

Costume decisions are often long and drawn out processes. Should it be something scary? Something comical? Maybe something that is just strange or different?

I used to always believe that this event was all about scariosity, but when you get a little older, get a little wiser, you learn that Halloween is just fun because of the escape. For one night we can be whomever we choose, whatever we choose, its an escape from ourselves, plus you can’t forget about all the free candy.

Now, I am not about to tell you all what I have chosen to be for Halloween…that would ruin the surprise! If all goes to plan, you will never truly know because I will have so disappeared into my new persona that it will be as if I were never actually there.

It’s never tough to find stuff for costumes, since there is a great assortment of Halloween Adventure Lands, Octoberful Funvilles, Sam’s Scary Duds, and the ever glamorous Costume Warehouse.

Worst comes to worst, you can always check out Spencer Gifts – there are always a few cuties working there (the Piratess at the Oxford Valley Mall certainly captured my eye).

My costume of choice depends solely on the retrieval of a blonde moustache. This is much tougher than it sounds. I have been told to grow my own and just dye it blonde – this would work if I could grow one to begin with.

Upon entering Holloween-o-Rama, a sharply dressed Michael Bolton approached me and my counterpart.

“Anything I can help you with, sir?”

I took a second to think about this, formulating the right response.

“Yea,” I said. “You can get that brunette nurse in the short skirt and the fishnets over there.”

So he brought the sexy medical aide over and I asked if she could show me their assortment of mustachios. She sashayed through the aisles of masks, wigs, and severed limbs. I followed closely behind.

Then she stopped, turned and with a Vanna-esque motion displayed the wall of – what I hope was – fake hair.

“Do you have anything in the yellow variety?” I asked, my eyes fixed on her…stethoscope.

She bent over to look, revealing even more fishnet. Scanning the rows of various hair products, she swayed back and forth as though she were singing a catchy jig in her head.

“Sorry hunny,” she said with a frown.. “Anything else I can help you with?”

I thought of a few things, but with more than a little common sense shook my head no and made my way out, taking a moment for one last glimpse of the Halloween-o-Rama hottie.

So the journey for the blonde moustache continues. The fate of the entire costumed world lies in the balance.

Where’s a good moustache