🎃 Halloween, Marketing, and the Bittersweet Magic of It All

When Halloween Wasn’t a Thing

When I was growing up, Halloween just… wasn’t a thing.

We’d see it in American movies — kids running through autumn leaves with pillowcases full of lollies — but it felt far away. Imported. Plastic.

Now, fast forward a few decades, and here we are — carving pumpkins in suburban Melbourne, watching kids in spider costumes dart across the street, and neighbours chatting over letterboxes. Every year, I feel this strange tug-of-war inside me.

The Magic of It

On one hand, I love it.

There’s something genuinely heartwarming about it — walking around our inner Melbourne streets on a warm evening, saying hello to people we’ve never met, seeing houses lit up with makeshift decorations and kids beside themselves with excitement.

For one night, everyone drops their guard.

It feels like an old-fashioned idea of neighbourhood — simple connection.

The Machine Behind the Magic

And then… there’s the other hand.

The one holding a bag of fun-size lollies that were probably made on the other side of the world, wrapped in layers of plastic, bought on impulse from a supermarket aisle lined with “limited-edition” treats that will vanish by November 1st.

That’s the part of Halloween I struggle with — the machine behind the magic.

Because Halloween, like so many other cultural imports, has been marketed to us with almost surgical precision.

The big confectionery companies, the supermarkets, even fast-food chains — they saw an opportunity to create a new spending season in Australia. And they nailed it.

They didn’t sell us a holiday — they sold us a feeling: belonging, nostalgia, a sense of fun we don’t want our kids to miss out on.

It’s clever marketing, really.

We’re not just buying lollies; we’re buying memories.

The Other Side of Marketing

But here’s the twist — it’s not all bad.

Halloween also shows how powerful marketing can be when it taps into something real: connection.

For all the cynicism, there’s still joy in it.

It’s one night where kids are outside instead of online, where neighbours chat instead of scroll, and where we’re reminded that sometimes the things that bring us together start with a commercial idea — but end in something human.

How We’re Choosing to Take Part

So maybe the trick isn’t avoiding it altogether. Maybe it’s choosing how we take part.

For what it’s worth, we’re buying in too — just in our own handmade way.

We made a tiny batch of Halloween soaps — ghosts and pumpkins, pure Australian olive oil and lemongrass — as our little nod to the season.

They’re free with orders over $65, until they disappear into the night.

No tricks. Just treats.

And maybe a reminder that not all marketing is bad — sometimes it’s just a story we choose to tell together.