You can choose to be something prettier if you like, but I elect to be the Wolfman. With the beard I'm rocking these days, it's not that much of a stretch.
When I look back at all the lovely costumes my mother made me over the years, it almost makes me feel guilty ... all that work for one rainy night.
Memorable years: the Love Ghost (a romantic version of the scary classic sheet-over-the-head, but with hearts cut out with pinking shears appliqued over the whole thing), and the Little Lame Prince (hero of a Victorian children's book, who dressed in pantaloons and a mystical cape that allowed him to travel, despite his paralyzed legs). The Prince costume saw traffic for years, until the doublet no longer fit. I wish I had pictures of those ... I'm sure they're somewhere.
My college years were less creative, maybe.
I think the runner costume falls under the realm of costumes designed to allow you to wear less clothing and look cute. Dumb idea. Everyone else looks charming, though. I love Holly as a little bumble bee. That night ended in a police chase for her, complete with scaled fences and mugshots.
This one I'm prouder of:
What am I, you ask? Puffin Capote, of course (Truman Capote dressed as a puffin).