And I do mean last minute. Look at the time…
Dig up your VHS copies of Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev in the pristine, never-been-rented Kozmo.com boxes, put on some bikershorts, kneepads, and your Kozmo Goretex shell, and go as a lost delivery guy, like one of those Japanese soldiers who never heard the war was over. [note: doesn’t work if you’ve showered today. Or yesterday. And if you slept on the couch in your office.]
Put on a cashmere cableknit sweater, a suede jacket, and some loafers and go as Whit Stillman. [note: only works if you have showered today. And exfoliated. And hydrated.]
Put on a featherweight ice-climbing shell with more pockets than you know what to do with and a baseball cap and go as a director from Imagine.
Mosaic together a giant Powerpoint slide that says “Jobs Jobs Jobs Jobs” or “War War War War” all over it, sprayglue it to some foamcore, rig it into a backpack behind your head, and go as George Bush.
Wear whatever you’re wearing right now, don’t think about what you’re going to say, don’t even smooth your hair, and go as a guest star on K Street.
Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have a winner.
[update: I ended up going as pregnant by tying a feto of the world around my neck, a legacy of Jason‘s post about fetosoap. Moral: always keep a small pile of feti handy for parties.]