The VOICE ONLINE

Feature

by Rebekah Nelson

 

 

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Costumers Keep 100-year Tradition Alive

[Feature Photo]

After she finished constructing a gigantic broccoli-shaped mascot for a produce company in Texas, Gina started creating a Rennaisance-style king's outfit
for a local Mardi Gras reveler. --Benjamin Tertin, photo


It's three o'clock at Helen's Costumes, and Linda Grindell is sitting at her usual post behind the store counter. Located at 7501 N.E. Glisan St., Helen's Costumes occupies a small blue and purple striped building.

The sun slants in through the barred windows and falls on two cats, Mayla and Soul Sister Chi-Chi. Mayla is a slender, dark cat with white markings, and Chi-Chi is a black cat with a vein running through one of her golden eyes.

The front room of the store is cluttered with costume supplies. On the wall behind the counter stand racks of costume paints and hair sprays. On the top shelves are several Styrofoam heads, each boasting a different elaborate wig: a Juliet wig with a long black braid, a punk rocker wig with bright orange and yellow spikes and even a Jesus wig, complete with a "biblical" beard.

On the floor, a giant pink and purple teapot squats, and an armor-plated knight stands with his limbs sadly askew. A basket of rabbit, leopard, and skunk tails hangs from the ceiling. The costumes stay in the back room lost in a maze of sequins, feathers and plastic feet.

Ms. Grindell has worked at the costume shop since 1982. Pam Monette owns the store, but Ms. Grindell is the woman in charge of the creative chaos at Helen's Costumes. Ms. Grindell has short, white hair and sad blue eyes. A measuring tape hangs around her neck and her fingers are heavy with metal skull rings.

Standing across the counter from her is Gina, Ms. Grindell's co-worker. She is a quiet woman with wide brown eyes and wavy hair. Gina has worked at Helen's for only six years, but she isn't there for the costumes. (Gina did not provide her last name.)

"I'm bipolar and schizophrenic," she said. "I was normal until I was 35, and then they found me in the backyard, talking to a tarp. I wanted to re-enter the work force. I came here for the normality."

Ms. Grindell, un-phased by Gina's disorders, said, " People think mental illness is like what's on TV, but they're some of the gentlest people in the world." Ms. Grindell said she isn't at Helen's for the costumes either.

"The thing about costumers is, we're not that into costumes," she said. "I'm not that huge of a costume wearer... one Halloween, when my kids were young, I dressed up like Ms. Piggy with a tutu, blonde hair and a pig nose. I was the hit of the neighborhood for years."

The corners of Gina's lips curl into barely devilish smile. "Biggest thing I've ever done is dress up like a cheerleader," she said. "Embarrassed the crap out of my teenage son. I was this fat little cheerleader at his ballgame."

Both women laugh, but Ms. Grindell quickly reassures Gina. "I thought you were cute," she said.

Helen's Costumes was established in 1890 by a woman named "Grandma Wonder." Since then the store has been in several different locations, and had a few different names. Helen's Costumes enjoys a thriving business and makes costumes for weddings, theater, corporate events, school plays and private parties. They also make mascots.

Their busiest seasons are holidays, especially Halloween and Christmas. The only time business slows is during July, when the weather is too hot to wear costumes.

Although Gina and Ms. Grindell create a lot of the costumes, they also have various teams of costumers they contact for help, according to the occasion.

"If we are making a cartoon character, there are certain people we call. If we're making 18th century pieces there are other people we call. It really depends on what we're making," Ms. Grindell said.

"One year we made a swoosh for Nike," she said proudly. "And we won [an award] for our dragon. Our trophies are from the National Costumer's Association. Smoke comes out of its nose, and it lights up. It's not for small use, only bigger events."

The costumes can be rented at a price of $60 per 24 hours, and mascots cost between $60 and $80, with the exception of bunnies, which are $85. School plays and students receive the greatest discounts.

Helen's Costumes also has some claims to fame. They supplied century pieces for the Dennis Quaid film, "Come See the Paradise," shot in Oregon. Their other claim is the enormous pink elephant that once adorned their roof.

"Someone stole it," Ms. Grindell said solemnly. "It was an elephant from one of our parades in 1933. It was six feet tall." The missing elephant caused quite a stir. Several news stations and newspapers responded to the missing pachyderm. But despite a thorough search, the elephant was lost.

"It had become a landmark; the neighbors were really sad," Ms. Grindell said, frowning.

Ms. Grindell said she doesn't know when she'll retire. She paused and looked at Gina. "But you'll be around a lot longer than me," she said.

"I don't think I would want to work with anyone else," Gina said. "It takes an understanding person to work with me."

"Well, I don't get scared when you are delusional," Ms. Grindell said. "You just prance around and do a little pony dance; that's my favorite."