By Joy Kraft
The Cincinnati Enquirer

HALLOWEEN GUIDE

Everything you need to know for Halloween, from finding the right costume, to the scariest haunted houses, to trick-or-treat times. at Cincinnati.com

Give the uninspired a deadline for a costume and you get weeks of procrastination and an Oct. 30 sprint to the neighborhood box store, credit card in hand.

But give a glue gun, a closet full of sight-unseen cast-offs and 90 minutes to someone with creative fire, and you get a costume party.

To prove it, we asked four creative types - all with theater backgrounds - to scour the nooks and crannies of readers' homes and create Halloween costumes in less than two hours, with no help other than glue guns, sewing machines and brain power.

No money. No pre-planning. No sneaking in accessories. Use only what is found in the house - with the endorsement of moms-in-charge.

Amethyst Tymoch of Clifton, working on her thesis for theater design at the University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music, was sent to Susan and Jeffrey Routh's Mount Adams home to transform Max, 3, into something he would approve of for trick-or-treat. Something heroic, manly.

A trio from Playhouse in the Park's costume shop - wig master Cara Hannah-Frye, stitcher Lisa Eun and mask-master Sarah Havens - was dispatched to Keith and Selina Clim's Columbia Township home to outfit Keilin, 9, and Keila, 13.

Ahoy, mateys!

"I'm not creative at all," says Susan Routh.

"Max is totally into firemen and he loves Thomas (the Tank Engine) and heroes."

That was the extent of her advice.

Max Routh as a pirate

Routh trailed Tymoch to the basement and along the storage shelves, nodding yea or nay on items that caught the designer's eye.

A searched-for poncho never materialized, and Max nixed being a bear when fleece fabric was found.

But Tymoch spotted a blue-and-white-striped canvas shower curtain, and nabbed a box of plastic shower curtain rings and a stray red napkin.

A run through the master bedroom's closet in search of an oversized sweat shirt (always a good basis for a costume, the designer says) netted a sheer, fuchsia blouse and an old yellow shirt.

Max took some persuading on being transformed into a pirate, but when he found he could emit a wicked "Aaaargh," the battle was won.

Tymoch sized up his leg length, spread out the shower curtain and snipped away with her pinking shears so the bottom of the pants needed no finishing and the top of the shower curtain with its rod pocket became an instant drawstring waist of the pants.

After a squirmy-but-brief fitting, the blouse was tucked and basted on the sewing machine and laced with bright turquoise twine. A yellow sash was snipped from the shirt and the red napkin became Max's pirate scarf. The finishing touch, the shower curtain ring, was added to his scarf "because he'll never keep an earring on," said Mom.

A paint stirring stick covered in tin foil became his sword, and Max was ready to set sail - in 70 minutes.

"Aaaargh."

The biker and the tourist

Selina Clim doesn't really sew, and said she didn't have any fabric or clothes ready to toss. Her son Keilin's room was so orderly, the Playhouse trio hesitated to snoop around while waiting for the siblings to get home from school.

Keilin Clim as a biker

But when the three stumbled into one of the "storage" areas in the basement, they breathed easily.

"We hit the jackpot y'all," Hannah-Frye said from the narrow room stacked high with shoe boxes, hats, baskets of jewelry and purses.

The three grabbed Hawaiian leis, seashells, fake flowers, a straw purse, a sheer lime-green wrap for a bathing suit, cocktail umbrellas, maracas, ribbons and oversized jewelry.

"There's a bright flowered dress in Keila's closet upstairs," Eun pointed out, and the transformation of 13-year-old eighth-grader Keila into a "Tacky Tourist" began.

The glue gun was heated and the wrap became the hat's trim, along with flowers, giant sequins and ribbon. A pair of old sunglasses was enhanced with glued-on sequins and jewelry pieces. And a perfectly acceptable straw purse was turned into a tacky souvenir bag with A-L-O-H-A lettering tape.

"The tackier the better," said Havens, layering the glitter and pulling out a half-dozen plastic Hawaiian leis. A pair of seashell-trimmed sandals, the maracas and a camera completed the look.

But the kids were due home and Keilin had no costume.

An old leather jacket became the centerpiece for his "Beer-Bellied Biker" look. He could wear the jacket over his own jeans and leather cowboy boots.

A pair of metal and wood earrings became jacket epaulets. An old leather cap was glued with a half-dozen copper earrings. Neck chains were made from hardware pull chains and the dog's choker.

A small pillow stuffed under one of Dad's tees became a beer belly, and sideburns and goatee were added with black makeup. The finishing touch: oversized sunglasses.

Two costumes, 92 minutes, and no money spent.

E-mail jkraft@enquirer.com