What does a vintage dealer wear for Halloween?

It’s like the chef having a dinner party. They’re expected to cook the best of the best for friends, family, and the usual people looking to be impressed (and get a free dinner from a top-notch chef, too boot)

So, I was under a bit of cooking pressure on Halloween last Saturday. I had a ‘99 Toyota Camry full of costume-worthy clothes (plus a dressing rack crammed into my room) but thanks to coming back to New York late Friday night from some time in Lancaster, plus selling at the Flea on Saturday, my time was limited.

So I channeled my inner Top Chef, pulled a bunch of rando ingredients from the kitchen, and cooked the perfectly trashtastic Salvation Army-thrift derived costume.

Trashtastic because it was literally pulled from the men’s rack at a West Chester Salvo during a 1/2 off Wednesday, and trashtastic because I was, uh, a Getty gas attendent from New Jersey.

Not from NJ? Never been, or really ever want to go? Besides cheap liqueur and cheap guidos, there is cheap gas. And even cheaper gas attendants. That’s right - it’s literally against the law to pump your own in New Jersey.

Franklin, Jefferson, Adams & the rest of the boys forgot about that inaleinable right in the Constitution.

That lose of 1776 is one of the state’s most fruitful gains in the economic crisis of 2009. Why? There’s always a job as a gas attendant in New Jersey. Or, working at Wawa. And after rocking this sweet Getty jacket for the night, I’d actually prefer the latter.

But back to the cooking metaphor: Like most chefs (c’mon, they almost ALWAYS have a little pudge) … there wasn’t too much sexy back this time around.

Unless you count the cat suit I wore underneath, that is.