I have been a fan of Vampire lore ever since I cracked the spine of
Dracula by Bram Stoker when I was 15.
So it was simply an eventuality that I would pick up Stephenie Meyer's vampire saga. Refusing it at the beginning only because I thought it meant for tweens, I finally gave in at the beginning of this year, and, pardon the bad pun, sank my teeth into the books and first movie. My fixation was intense and immediate, all things ceasing to exist (including my husband) while I devoured page after page of Edward and Bella’s obsessive love.
As anyone who knows my idiosyncrasies will attest, once I find an obsession, I don’t do it half way. So in order to properly celebrate New Moon’s highly anticipated record-setting opening this past weekend, I decided to throw a New Moon pre-movie party.
The theme was, of course, vampires, with my lower level transformed into a vampire layer. Dozens of red and black candles adorned every surface, including red apple candles (to mimic the cover of
Twilight)—serendipitously found on clearance at the Deerfoot Meadows Ikea.
Dim red light bulbs replaced regular ones, to cast an ominous red glow.
In keeping with the theme, only red and black food was prepared, party guests munching on tomato-basil turkey wraps, and custom-created (and delicious!) red and black, butter cream-iced, chocolate and lemon cupcakes by
Sugar and Spice Couture (sugar.spicecouture@yahoo.ca). And thanks to a couple fabulous
Etsy-ers (the place to find what you never knew you always wanted), both the wraps and cupcakes were adorned with Twilight toppers.
Blood (red wine) was plentiful, as were the giggles when Edward Cullen himself dropped by for photo ops, via a life-size standee courtesy of a frantic E-Bay search.
Going with the one suggestion I allowed my husband to make (poor soul has been brainwashed into the Twilight army), we projected the Twilight DVD theatre-style on to our downstairs wall and fireplace, playing to the background tunes of both the Twilight and New Moon soundtracks.
But why all this pomp and circumstance for a fictional teen, her vampire boyfriend, and werewolf best friend?
Quite simply, women crave to be craved. Women want to be desired to the point of near madness, with a passion so strong that logic no longer applies—all that eventually matters is the essence of what you feel, souls and eternal damnation be damned. Throw in a little taboo blood lust, and the kink factor provides yet another layer for the romantically illicit fantasy.
So while I of course plan to re-live said fantasy again in the coming weeks, my husband tries in futility to remove Edward Cullen from our living room where he has been perched indefinitely (and with whom I may, or may not, converse while making dinner).
In any case, there is no sense in putting him away now. The opening of Eclipse is only 217 days away.