Cat with cape and other fond cape memories

I have appreciated the beauties of a sleek, shapely cape for as long as I can remember. I always wanted to wear one for Halloween, no matter what I was dressed as. Halloween pictures show such original costumes as cat with cape, rabbit with cape, hobo with cape. On my tenth Halloween I finally figured out that a cape complements no costume as much as that of a vampire, and my attire for the next six Halloweens was set (yes, I dressed up for Halloween until I was sixteen years old. I was having sex and pretending to be a vampire for free candy in the same year).

My first cape was black vinyl with a red vinyl interior. I wore it continuously in the weeks leading up to and following Halloween, until an ugly accident involving my sister and a pogo stick put an end to my fun. I would hide behind doors, couches, beds, anything in the house, just waiting for a victim to walk by. I would then jump out, hissing, and flap my cape. I wanted people to run in terror, but I must have been a bad hider because they were always expecting me. My family soon became disgusted with my behavior, which may be why my sister was not punished as she should have been for the reckless destruction of my valuable cape. I still remember the look of baffled horror on my mother’s face as she ran to the bus stop in her robe to keep me from boarding the bus in my beloved cape.

In daydreams I would often picture myself with a flowing cape, wreaking havoc on the pitiful population that had defied me in some way. For me, a cape was a symbol of evil, or at least that of a supremely disturbed and misunderstood person. My rabbit with a cape was an evil rabbit with a cape, capable of jumping on the back of smaller children with capeless costumes and biting at their necks. It makes sense for Dracula and Batman to have capes. They are mysterious and brooding; they have a lot of angst to hide behind a swirling pool of velvet blackness. But Superman? Captain Marvel? To them a cape is nothing but a rather silly fashion accessory. I’m sure everyone has considered how easy it would be for the Man of Steel to trip over his own crimson flag of justice or for a criminal to clothesline the Son of Krypton simply by grabbing his trailing mantle. I am reminded of a college friend who used to wear a cape (he called it a “cloak,” which sounds even geekier than cape) when we would play midnight hide-and-seek. You could always see his gray veil hanging down from whatever tree he had scurried up.

Adulthood, jobs, and higher education has not dimmed my love for the cape. In my opinion football would be more interesting if the players wore capes and spandex. I cherish pictures of caped fat cats flying through the photoshopped air. When asked what should replace the academic robes of old, I instantly picture myself in a striking green cape with matching mortar board teaching the young people about the value of a freshly laundered cape.