Photo via Flickr user Ginny
In the last decade, the trick-or-treating experience has devolved into a sugar-crazed brouhaha. It used to be that parents herded kids down the streets of their respective cul-de-sacs, neighbors tossed a few “fun-size” goods in the makeshift bags of little witches and ghosts, and that was enough. But now the stakes are higher. Halloween is a test of the survival of the fittest-with trick-or-treaters migrating to the most affluent neighborhoods, vying to score whole candy bars from cobwebbed mansions. And as the ritziest communities host hundreds of out-of-towners, others have seen a steep decline in local activity, creating a vacuum in the door-to-door economy.
Videos by VICE
If you want to find the best neighborhoods this Halloween, check Zillow. For the last six years, the real estate website has published a “Trick-or-Treat Index” that draws from marketplace housing data to determine which cities and neighborhoods around the country “will provide the most candy, in the least amount of time, with the fewest safety risks.” The Index quickly became the standard-bearer for insider information on Patch blogs and parenting forums across the web, spurring petty competitions between communities not unlike the 100-year-old childhood contests of who got the most candy on their All Hallows’ Eve run.
Skyler Olsen, an economist at Zillow, described how the company uses housing metrics to scope out the hot spots: “You want to be able to hit the most homes. But not only do you want to hit a lot of homes, you want to be able to hit those swanky, wealthier neighborhoods with the king-size candy bars.” So the lists of localized rankings rely upon four main factors: density, home value, walkable-ness, and crime statistics-but especially home value. The bigger the house, the bigger the score.
“We’re really into Halloween,” she added. “So what better time to do what we do best-to leverage data to get some insights.”
Looking closely at the results, the popularity of these lists (as well as the neighborhoods it cites) correlate with nationwide trends, which can be generally characterized as a gentrification of Halloween: a new normal in the trick-or-treat tradition wherein masked visitors patronize only the most moneyed neighborhoods while adjacent localities fall to the wayside.
But what do residents of these “top-rated neighborhoods” think of Zillow’s lists? And, more to the point, how have they responded to these annual surges?
“There were van loads full of kids coming in,” said Reyn Blight, president of the Toluca Lake Chamber of Commerce. Toluca Lake is a ritzy neighborhood just north of Los Angeles, which gets thousands of trick-or-treaters each year. “We’d shut the door and the doorbell would ring, and sometimes there would be a dozen or 15 kids before we’d close the door again.” Then, a minute later, it’d happen again-and these weren’t kids he recognized from around the neighborhood. For Blight’s part, he didn’t mind. Halloween was just once a year, after all. But for some of the other residents, it became an “annoyance.”
“Some people just go elsewhere, since they don’t want a bunch of kids trampling their lawns,” he says. “But other than that, I haven’t heard any stories of damage. We haven’t had any of that kind of thing, where there have been tricks instead of treats. But I think some people worry about that when you have a big influx of people from other areas.”
Photo via Flickr user Colleen McMahon
Whether or not residents oppose the proliferation of costumed outsiders within their communities, the candy-driven pattern-which seems to have become more and more common since websites like Zillow started ranking neighborhoods-reflects socioeconomic shifts in metropolitan areas around the country. Take this year’s Trick-or-Treat Index, for example: In Boston, the historic Beacon Hill neighborhood has been named the number one place to migrate this Halloween. It is the third time in the Index’s history, and there’s a good chance that that’s because the picturesque tourist destination has been effectively gentrified, starting in the 1970s. So, the logic goes, market value and candy shares are inextricably linked, and parents have to stay ahead of the curve if they want their kids to get their fair share.
In the District of Columbia, gentrification trends have caused significant shifts in the trick-or-treating dynamics of neighborhoods like Logan Circle, where “one is more likely to see young professionals in costume than children going door-to-door asking for Halloween candy.” While the community’s population continues to increase, the under-18 cohort has steadily dropped, and the annual candy-grabbing tradition now seems to be in decline.
There are at least two reasons why this has become a thing in recent years: Parents are either responding to the imagined pressure to provide their kids with the best trick-or-treating experience available, or they’re genuinely concerned about safety. That is, there’s the self-indulgent rationale and the preventative perspective.
Understandably, if you’re living in a low-income, high crime community, you might not have access to the best (or safest) trick-or-treating experience, with decked-out houses and bags of brand-name candy. Partaking in the festivities in a different neighborhood could certainly alleviate the anxiety of door-to-door solicitations, which is the idea behind community outreach programs like UCLA’s All Hill Halloween program, an initative that used to invite “2,500 kids from low-income areas of Los Angeles to…trick-or-treat safely among the decorated floors” of the university’s residence halls.
But in the last decade-with parents festering on online forums, challenging Zillow’s Index and posting firsthand accounts of the “best” neighborhoods to raid-it’s clear that safety is not, in fact, the central factor accounting for the inter city exodus. We’re increasingly drawn to the side of the fence featuring greener grass and full-size Twix bars, and in cities experiencing rapid gentrification, that manifests into what you end up seeing on the eve of October 31.
And it’s not just low-income parents giving their kids a safe trick-or-treating experience in middle-income neighborhoods; the socioeconomics of the trend are superficial, premised on the notion that mommy’s little candy-grubber is entitled to the best sweets from the most exclusive, festooned homes on the upscale block down the street.
Some residents might consider it an “annoyance,” but it comes with the territory, so to speak. The trend shouldn’t surprise anyone. Halloween has always been about getting the most candy: Why should the kids in Bel Air have all the fun? It’s just that, nowadays, the stakes are higher and the competition is fierce. No self-respecting, middle-income kid is going to settle for the “fun-size” M&Ms next door anymore.
Follow Kyle Jaeger on Twitter.