I'm five minutes early for my Halloween shopping date with budding actress Brittany Bristow at Toronto costume mecca Malabar. But dressing up is serious business for this 12-year-old, so she's arrived even earlier with her mom, Agnes, and has already rallied the store's cast to her cause.
Clad in her National Ballet School uniform, the tall, precocious Bristow pauses to greet me. She looks me in the eye in a very adult way as she extends a hand, then it's back to the experts under her spell.
Bristow is hot off a turn in the new Canadian feature film Perfect Pie, in which she plays the cheerful, bright, 10-year-old version of Wendy Crewson's character, Patsy Willets. As Bristow ponders the trendy costumes, it turns out they, too, have their start in film: Lord of the Rings tops the list, Scooby Doo is a possibility (she's too young to remember the TV show). Moulin Rouge is everywhere. Bristow cocks an eye, imagining her string-bean schoolgirl self for a fleeting moment in showgirl garb at her school's Halloween dance at the Ballet School, where she has been a student for two months.
"I'm not sure Moulin Rouge is right for my school dance."
Poised and self-aware, Bristow is balancing on the cusp between child and teenager, and while Halloween can be a time to flirt with the future, she knows it's not a time for disturbing Lolitaisms.
For the past two Halloweens, Bristow and her mom created goth ensembles from Value Village finds, accented with lots of black makeup. The year before that, she was a hippie. This year, she's leaning toward looking like a girl. A pretty girl. She will wear her costume twice -- at the dance, which took place yesterday -- and trick-or-treating Thursday.
We flip through a few photographs Malabar's Roula Kovios shows us to illustrate the Lord of the Rings outfits.
"I like the purple dress," she beams, imaging herself as Arwen, the elf who saves Frodo's life. It's an empire-waisted, bell-sleeved Middle Ages number. The princessy gown pictured happens to be an adult size, so we scatter to locate facsimiles. There's a silvery white version -- and here's one that looks smaller. "Oh, it's too small," says Bristow, as she takes a good look. "I'm not a child."
We find ourselves in the very capable paws of J.P., an affable sales fellow wearing the lion's getup from The Wizard of Oz.
"I like your costume," says Bristow, as she follows the fuzzy beast, Dorothy-style, toward the change rooms. Fitting, then, that he's tucked a pre-fab Dorothy ensemble -- wig, ruby slippers and all -- among all the medieval frocks.
"Oh, I'm going to try everything on!" she squeals. But when Bristow emerges from the change room, it's clear she's been mistaken for a child. The blue gingham dress is so brief Bristow keeps her kilt on to avoid being half-naked.
"I think I should go with this, what do you think?" she deadpans, planting her left hand on her left hip and swinging it all out to the side. Once fitted in the proper size, Bristow pulls on the weirdly creepy Dorothy wig. She takes a glance in the mirror, assesses its dark possibilities and turns around with horror-film eyes. This kid oughtta be in scary movies, man.
Next up is a Lord of the Rings dress -- it's not the purple one, but it is wench-like. Her long, fair hair is perfect for the tiara-and-veil setup.
Halloween has always been huge for Brittany, says Agnes Bristow. "When she was 1, we put a wig on her that I had bought for my other daughter, who's now 23. I think that's when the acting started."
"Mommy! What do you think of this?" Bristow yelps unselfconsciously across the room.
"I have a feeling this is going to cost me," she answers, beaming at her daughter.
Bristow is distracted for a moment by the jam-packed store and its possibilities.
"Maybe I could go as Barney."
"Or the big purple dinosaur, as we call him," pipes in J.P., clearly on copyright alert.
"Or maybe I could get a horse," she says, refocusing.
For added drama, Bristow -- while sure that she has everyone's attention -- swans over to a framed version of the purple-dress picture.
"I really love this one." No, it doesn't come in her size, she is gently told for the umpteenth time. With her faux pout, Bristow looks just about ready to set up camp and wait until she grows big enough to fit it.
Yet, even though she has just finished playing the part of the ultimate brat in Blizzard, a Christmas 2003 flick conceived of by Agnes and Leif Bristow, starring Whoopi Goldberg (as the Blizzard) and Christopher Plummer (as Santa), Bristow just can't make the pout stick.
Besides, she has spotted eTalk!'s Ben Mulroney, clad as Rhett Butler for a TV spot, and flutters off to chat.
"Are you getting a costume too?" she asks.
"Yes," he says, as they begin to slap the racks together, comparing notes. As charmfests go, this one's a draw.
"You could go as the big purple dinosaur," offers Bristow.
"Oh, I did that last year," says Mulroney, without missing a beat.
Forget about choosing a costume today. How will Bristow choose between her two loves, ballet and acting? It was her idea to audition for Ballet School and she is thrilled to be there. She's just started pointe -- "I love it. It just hurts a lot" -- and will continue auditioning for movie, TV and commercial roles as time allows.
"I have no idea what will happen. For now, I'm enjoying both," she says. "Both let me express myself. It's just in ballet, you don't talk."
She's now trying on another elven possibility, in lemon yellow. "Hey Mom, I can't breathe," she laments, pointing out the tight bodice. She takes the gown for a spin nonetheless. A saleswoman scoots by saying, "You look like Juliette."
Bristow's eyes widen into dreamy saucers and she performs more casual, impromptu ballet, her lanky limbs sweeping into place. "I'm always in the mood for pretty."
Malabar's Kovios leads Bristow, whose hair is swinging due to her exaggerated skipping moves, to the bin of prosthetic ears, the $16 finishing touch for any elf.
"Cool!" she says, eyeing Mom.
Her new pal J.P. approaches with something altogether different: Scooby Doo.
"I'm Scooby Doo!" she says, from under a huge dog head balancing atop hers. She wrinkles her nose. "Are there feet?"
J.P., ever the gent, offers his lion-feet slippers. Bristow arfs and goofs for our camera until the pièce de résistance arrives. It's the Arwen gown. Not purple, but so bejewelled and opulent, no 12-year-old girl could resist. It's a small adult size and needs pinning in the gold-embroidered torso, but Bristow could care less. This dress embodies everything she wants to be at this moment -- it's pure fantasy, while hinting at a maturity Bristow wants to audition for. If Mom isn't keen on the $125 price tag, well, it's too late to protest. It would be tragic to separate the girl from the dress. Arrangements are made to pick up the costume in two days.
"I love this dress. It's flowy. It's pretty, pretty, pretty," Brittany says, picturing herself dancing to a few Avril Lavigne or Shakira tunes. "I need some shoes -- maybe I could paint old pointe shoes."