From Candy to Community: How 'Costco' Halloween fed 1,600 Detroiters

By Lauren Yellen

Every October 31st, the same routine repeats itself. You set up a folding table, toss a plastic spiderweb across the porch, pour candy into a bowl while complaining about how expensive it’s gotten, and call it a night. Maybe you dress your kids in costumes, walk around the block, and secretly do Jell-O shots with the other parents while your children race to fill their pillowcases with candy.

I moved to the University District, next to Palmer Park, two Halloweens ago. My neighbors told me to buy at least 400 pieces of candy, and I thought they were insane. We’re lucky if we see a single kid walking the block on a normal day. But, of course, I didn’t listen. I bought 600 pieces.

At 5:00 p.m., not a single kid was in sight. By 5:30, I was bending over so hundreds of toddlers could choose their favorite chocolate. Six hundred wasn’t even close to enough. Even after an emergency drop-off of 200 more pieces, I was cleaned out in minutes.

Inspired by the sheer volume of people who showed up at my door, my unwavering love for the City of Detroit, and an art degree I don’t get to use often, I started brainstorming. How could I make a real impact on all these families from the comfort of my home?

As the person behind Make Detroit Home, I spend my days helping people find houses here, but this was about something deeper: making Detroit truly feel like home for everyone, even if just for one night.

WHERE THE IDEA BEGAN

One of the toughest realities about living in Detroit is access to resources. We don’t have grocery stores strategically placed throughout the city. A significant portion of our population relies on gas stations or corner stores for food. Those lucky enough to own a car and afford Detroit’s sky-high insurance and gas can make it out of the city to reach larger chain stores.

There are 74 grocery stores in Detroit. Only three are names you’d recognize and trust. In a city of 645,000 residents, that’s roughly one store for every 8,700 people, and only one major-brand grocery for about 215,000 Detroiters.

This reality sits really heavy with me.

Roughly a third of Detroit households face food insecurity, and in some neighborhoods, it’s even higher. We all know the feeling of wanting to help, but too often the systems designed to “help” are so slow or layered that the impact gets diluted before it reaches the people who need it most.

So instead of partnering through a nonprofit or waiting for grant funding, I decided to skip the middleman. I asked myself: How could my Halloween idea help address the food issue without turning it into a formal charity event?

THE “COSTCO HALLOWEEN”

Costco creates an atmosphere of abundance through simple tactics: free samples, almost-free hot dogs, and those legendary rotisserie chickens. Everyone leaves happy and full.

After some thought, I realized that playfully using Costco’s model could bring the same excitement to trick-or-treating. And just like that, “Costco Halloween” was born.

My friends and I built a pathway through my yard using half wood pallets that a local manufacturer was scrapping. We found caution tape I’d bought at an estate sale and dug out blow-up Halloween decorations from my basement. We redesigned the path over and over for the best flow, because when you’re ballin’ on a budget, the trick is to use what’s free and what you already have lying around.

We planned three stations: a table handing out hand-screenprinted canvas Make Detroit Home candy bags (often kids showed up without bags or were using the only pillowcase they owned), a candy table, and a hot dog station.

Our house now has a reputation for giving out potatoes (long story), so of course we had to include them. I borrowed a shopping cart and filled it with 180 pounds of potatoes, which luckily fit the “Costco” theme perfectly. I even made an “AT&T salesperson” hat for the person handing them out.

HOW THE WEEK UNFOLDED

Halloween came together in about a week.

• Friday (seven days before): I had hand-screenprinted 100 of 1,500 candy bags, and my friends were convinced there was no way I’d finish in time.
• Sunday: My Cricut broke, taking my stencil plans down with it.
• Monday: My new friends at Gordon Food Service in Clawson ordered all the hot dogs, buns, and condiments for Friday pickup.
• Tuesday through Thursday: Screen printing was back up and running: printing, drying, repeating. Every waking minute was spent finishing bags.
• Friday: Pickup day. I grabbed the hot dogs and prepped everything for the big night. By 5:30, we were live.

It was chaos, in the best way.

WHY SKIPPING THE MIDDLEMAN MATTERED

Detroit is filled with generous people and dedicated nonprofits, but the truth is, they can slow things down. I don’t need permission to care. I don’t need 501(c)(3) status to feed my neighbors.

By cutting out the administrative layer, every dollar I spent went directly into food and experience, not paperwork. There’s something powerful about seeing this kind of impact in real time—from watching a child pick out their favorite candy to seeing the smile on a parent’s face when we offered them a hot dog too.

“EMPLOYEES”

This Halloween wouldn’t have happened without a small army of people dropping everything to believe in my crazy idea. My community rallied around me and blessed this idea. Neighbors lent crockpots and turkey roasters. People donated money without me even asking.

My brother made every kid laugh as he, the “AT&T guy,” joked about getting them new phone plans in the form of potatoes. And the condiment lady got the best compliment of the night when a sixth grader told her how grateful she was for real food because she hadn’t eaten since school lunch.

IMPACT & LOOKING AHEAD

That night, I didn’t just see kids in costumes; I saw a neighborhood come alive. It felt like Make Detroit Home in action. One creative idea and a little Costco energy turned candy night into community night.

We’re already dreaming up what next year’s “Costco Halloween” could become. We’re looking for partners—maybe hats and gloves for kids, or a food vendor willing to lend some labor. If you know someone who can help get me over 2,000 potatoes, we would be forever indebted!