The Mirror Game
One of the most commonly-depicted images in Halloween postcards centered on the “mirror game.” In this fortune-telling ritual, a woman would look into a mirror at midnight on Halloween in order to see her future husband's face in the reflection. Yet during the beginning of the 20th century, there were literally hundreds of such rituals and games for women to play on Halloween, and none are depicted as regularly as the mirror game.1 So why was this one theme especially popular in postcard images? The whispers from this postcard emerge by linking the image of the mirror game with the period's larger cultural debate about women.
A good place to start is understanding the solitude of this particular ritual. Unlike other party games, this one was played alone, away from the crowd (often a mixed-sex crowd) of the Halloween party. The lateness of the required midnight viewing necessitated this. Author Laura Jean Libbey, whose prose was often directed at young women, describes what was so frequently depicted in postcards: “The little Halloween party breaks up promptly at 11 o’clock…There’s a quick flitting to her own room, a quick tossing of ribbons here and lingerie there, for the old clock’s hands, as she sped by it on the stairway, pointed to five minutes to 12.”2
Understanding the solitary nature of this game helps to frame some of its thrill and popularity. Unlike other party games, this solitude meant that whatever powers the girl or woman might summon in order to enact the mirror game ritual were hers, and hers alone. Thus, in these images the woman performing the mirror ritual begins to take on the trapping of another key Halloween figure: the witch. In images of the mirror game, the lines between girl and witch blur. The girl's dresser with bottles and boxes strikingly resembles a witch’s laboratory. Just as the witch works alone over her cauldron or potions, so too does the woman in the mirror game operate outside of the view of others, particularly men. But the images go even further in blurring the line. In many images the woman is not entirely alone. In this popular card, the shadow of a witch is clearly seen. This could be interpreted as representing a separate entity, the supernatural being who comes into the scene in order to provide the knowledge sought by the woman. But the fact that this and many other postcards create the shadow of a witch also suggests that it is not a separate entity at all. It suggests that the woman herself has passed into the realm of magic and spell-casting to become, at least for the moment, a witch.
Putting the mirror game in context
The key-note of her character is self-reliance and the power of initiation.
Why would women want to visually connect themselves to witches and witchcraft, at least in the safe context of a harmless Halloween game? Because witches were women with powers--magical powers to be sure, but powers. And women having and exerting power was one of the most common and debated themes of the early 20th century. Often this cultural shift was rolled into a new construction of womanhood called “The New Woman.” As historian Ben Singer notes, period literature suggested that “self-reliance and the power of initiation” were particular hallmarks of this New Woman.3
We know postcards were circulated primarily by and for women. (See the research.) Images of the mirror game enjoyed particular popularity because such images could remind women that they too were powerful creatures: In that moment of the mirror game, she possesses the powers of the witch. It is true that the game was still very much rooted in traditional roles; after all, the point of the game was to see a future husband! But by allowing women viewers to identify themselves as just a little bit witchy, they were laying claim to larger (and very real) powers of New Womanhood...not just at Halloween, but year-round. This image (and many others like it) whispers to us today about a time when holidays could be used to test the emerging dynamic of New Womanhood.
1Mary Blain's Games for Halloween fills 45 pages with almost nothing but these kinds of rituals. See Mary E Blain, Games for Hallowéen (New York: Barse & Hopkins, 1912).
2Laura Jean Libbey, “All Halloween is Love's Own Eve,” Boston Daily Globe, October 31, 1910, 11.
3Ben Singer, Melodrama and Modernity (Columbia University Press, 2001), 242.




