My First Michael Myers Mask

If you know me for five minutes, you probably know that Halloween is my favorite movie of all time.

I first saw it when I was four years old, on October 30, 1981, during its NBC Friday night premiere. That movie changed me. Even at that age, I was hooked, and from then on I wanted to watch whatever horror movies I could, especially slashers.

Naturally, I loved Halloween the holiday, too. Dressing up was a big part of that. Like a lot of kids in the ’80s, I had those Ben Cooper and Collegeville costumes with the plastic masks. My mom made some of my costumes as well.

But dressing up as your favorite slasher back then took a little creativity.

In third grade, I dressed up as Jason. There wasn’t a good replica hockey mask readily available to me, so I bought an actual hockey mask that sort of looked like the one on the cover of Friday the 13th Part V. Close enough.

I loved Freddy, too, but I never attempted the burn makeup. What I really wanted was the glove. I never got the plastic one as a kid, so I made Freddy fingers out of aluminum foil instead.

Ultimately, though, I wanted to be Michael Myers.

This was before the internet. I didn’t know all the lore about the original mask being a Captain Kirk mask or which version was which. I just knew what Michael looked like, and I wanted to look like him.

By 1990, I was 13. Michael had returned in Halloween 4 and Halloween 5 in back-to-back years, and I wanted a Michael Myers mask so badly.

A few miles from my house was a strip mall where Arlene’s Costumes, a costume shop in Rochester, would open a small satellite store every Halloween season. I think the space was an H&R Block office the rest of the year, but in October it became one of my favorite places to go.

The store was tiny and completely packed. Costumes filled the room, makeup and accessories lined the walls, and above everything else were masks circling the entire store.

They were high up, especially when you were a kid. I would stand there and stare at them.

Then one year, I saw it.

A plain white face. A Don Post mask known as “The Mask.”

To me, it was Michael Myers.

If you know that mask, you know it’s pretty plain Jane. It wasn’t an exact match for the original, and it certainly didn’t look like the masks you can buy today. But standing in that store, looking up at it, I didn’t care.

One of the reasons I loved it was that it reminded me of the Halloween 4 mask. And yes, I’m a Halloween 4 mask apologist.

The original and Halloween II are still my favorites, but I’ve always appreciated how plain the mask in Part 4 is. Just this blank white face. I think if we hadn’t already had the first two movies to compare it to, people would give it more credit.

Come on. It’s a pretty darn good mask.

Anyway, there it was, hanging on the wall. The problem was the price: $45.

When your allowance is about three bucks a week, $45 might as well be a fortune.

That mask lived on a shelf in my bedroom, in its plastic bag, and I babied it.

It was huge on me. Picture a 13-year-old kid dressed as Michael Myers with the proportions of a Funko Pop.

I had a short-sleeved mechanic’s jumpsuit that fit me, so my mom sewed long sleeves onto it. They weren’t exactly the same color as the rest of the suit, but that was fine. I had the mask. That was what mattered.

I would put everything on and walk around my street. After every time I wore it, I brought the mask inside, wiped down the interior, put baby powder in it, and returned it to the bag and the shelf.

I treated that thing like it was my firstborn.

At one point, a friend brought over his camcorder, and we decided to film me as Michael.

I lived on a dead-end street with woods at the end and a really steep driveway. We set up the camcorder and put my little tape boombox next to it. I had recorded the Halloween theme off the television, so we had our soundtrack ready.

I went down to the woods. My friend pressed play on the boombox and record on the camera, and I walked out of the trees, up the street, and up the driveway.

The motion light came on as I walked past with my knife.

And on my feet? Blue Velcro sneakers.

Very intimidating.

But to me, it was the coolest thing. I could dress like Michael, walk like Michael, and hear the music playing while I did it. The camera picked up the soundtrack from the boombox, so when we watched it back, it was all there.

Today, you can do so much with a phone, a better mask, and a little editing. But for a 13-year-old in 1990, that was about as good as it got.

When I moved into my first house in 2004, I carefully wrapped the Myers mask, packed it into a box, and sealed every corner and crevice before putting it in the attic.

It stayed there for roughly twelve or thirteen years. When we moved again, I finally took it out and put it on display in my office.

That’s where it stands today, alongside the other Michael Myers masks I’ve collected over the years. Most are from my buddy Justin Mabry, and I also have a newer Halloween 4 mask from Nathan Stafford at NAG Studios.

I’ve owned several others along the way, too. Masks that look much closer to what you see on screen.

But that first one is still my favorite.

It’s yellowed a little. It’s showing its age. Somehow, after all those years, it’s still in pretty darn good shape.

And every time I look at it, I remember staring up at that wall in Arlene’s. Lunch with my sister at Pizza Hut. My mom sewing sleeves onto a jumpsuit. Walking out of the woods while the Halloween theme played from a boombox.

I still love a good Michael Myers mask. But that one takes me right back to being 13, when finally getting to be Michael Myers meant everything.