Halloween History in the Pines
Photo by Mike Fisher
Somewhere in the glitter-soaked haze of the mid-1970s a few cocktail fueled masterminds at the legendary Sandpiper bar were contemplating the end summer when they seized upon an idea: “Let’s close with a bang. Let’s have a Halloween party!”
And just like that, a tradition was born. Halloween in the Pines quickly became the unofficial, gloriously over-the-top, sendoff to summer. It’s the Pines’ sultry way of saying, “See you next season, darling—but not before we SLAY.”
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Now, let’s get one thing straight (well… you know what we mean): nothing in the Pines stays “casual” for long. What started as a low-key costume contest at the Sandpiper turned into a spectacle of sequins, sass, and synchronized house routines. Because when you throw a bunch of drag queens, muscle boys, artists, and theatrical types into one room—casual dies a quick, glittery death. And the Halloween Party quickly became a fabulous farewell.
As years passed, the party blossomed—organically, outrageously, and fabulously. Scheduled the weekend before NYC’s Halloween madness, it became the sacred closing ceremony for Fire Island’s summer season. At first, it was the die-hards—those staying through October—who showed up, often in themed house ensembles with the precision of a Broadway opening night. But gradually, more and more began to show. And soon, it was a redlined date on the calendar.
Of course, like everything else in queer history, the Pines Halloween Party wasn’t untouched by pain. The AIDS crisis cast a long shadow, and the crowd thinned as the epidemic ravaged the community. But the fabulousness was never truly lost. The costumes still turned looks and people still danced. And you could sense, behind the sequins, capes and make up, there was hope. Because in the Pines, joy is resistance—and Halloween Party was just the event we needed at that time to get through the winter and look to a better future.
With the emergence of the anti-retroviral cocktail, things got brighter all around, and the party began to grow. Then around 2006, longtime resident PJ McAteer took over the Sip’n’Twirl and the party entered its glittering golden age. Suddenly, Halloween wasn’t just a night out—it was the event of the fall. Picture it: drag queens serving face to launch a thousand ships, tunic-clad boys with no pants (because why not?), superheroes and monsters, and full-blown choreographed homages to Xanadu and Rocky Horror that rocked the room. The décor was off the charts, with aerial witches, spooky snow, monster inflatables, and disco spiders. Every year, the costumes got bigger, bolder, and sassier. Whether it was high-fashion fantasy or dollar-store drag done just right, the creativity knew no bounds. And yes, the bar got crowded, very crowded at times—but the vibe stayed sexy and flirty. One year, a gladiator, a vampire, and Tom Cruise in Top Gun attire walked up to the bar. Who got served first? The six-foot-four drag queen in stilettos behind them—snapping, “Two vodka sodas, doll—with a twist!”
While the crowd and décor set the tone, the music provided the energy. The Sip N Twirl DJs, like Chris Camuso understood the event and delivered a compelling mix of gay anthems, nostalgic summer bangers, and delicious new remixes, leaving the Sip N Twirl dance floor dripping in sweat, glitter and joy. Because above all else, the Pines Halloween Party is a dance party—a life-affirming celebration of the season’s last gasp with a look to the future.
But the simple truth is the Pines Halloween Party isn’t just a party—it’s a cultural institution. A glitter-soaked altar to queer creativity, resilience, and joy. In a world demanding conformity, the Pines Halloween Party throws on a wig, flips the bird, and everyone dances like we’ve won the lottery. While it is a goodbye kiss to summer it’s also a glittery promise that the Pines never goes out of season. What started as a boozy bar night is now a pilgrimage for the flamboyant, the fierce, and the unapologetically fabulous. A living, breathing testament to community, queerness, and the radical power of fun.
So, if you haven’t yet been, come check it out. We’ll look for you on the dance floor. Costumes mandatory. Pants optional. Attitude required. Boredom? Banned.
