10 Halloween Trends That Will Dominate 2025—And 2 That Are Dead to Me

Halloween, but dressed for the front row. I’m seeing vignettes take their cues from old cathedrals—gargoyles, relics and candlelit altars—reimagined as high-drama decor. Picture a harlequin-check skull perched like a reliquary. Tall, theatrical candlesticks on marble trays. Add a gothic-arched mirror that feels like a tomb niche or a velvet runner draped like a ceremonial cloth, and suddenly your mantle looks less “holiday aisle” and more “haunted chapel styled by Alexander McQueen.”

These aren’t your average haunted house props—they’re holographic mirrors that pull double duty. When switched off, they look like elegant, arched wall mirrors (the kind you’d actually want up year-round). But turn them on, and the glass becomes a stage for shifting apparitions: glowing ghosts, skeletal faces, and even red-eyed phantoms that seem to hover in the glass. The trick is in the LED layering—built-in lights and shimmer effects erase your reflection and replace it with spectral imagery, like something straight out of Practical Magic. Mounted above a mantel, they play especially well with candlelight, turning your living room into a séance-ready parlor.

All eyes are (literally) on you this season. Furniture retailers like West Elm are turning the creepy eyeball into a chic motif: ceramic vases with a single staring iris, string lights of glowing blue pupils, embroidered pillows that feel equal parts mystical and macabre. They work because the eye is both protective (think evil eye talismans) and unsettling—you never quite know if you’re being watched. Scatter a few across the room—a pillow here, a glowing garland there—and your space suddenly feels alive, like the house itself is keeping tabs.

Forget the polished brass candlesticks your grandmother displayed—this season’s tapers are held aloft by things far creepier. Think bony skeleton hands stretching skyward, bronze claws that look like they crawled out of a crypt, and even snakes frozen mid-coil with a candle balanced on their heads. You can pair elongated black tapers with a skeletal candelabra for a dining table that looks one séance away from a ghostly guest appearance. Or, you can let a lone serpent holder flicker on a side table, its candle melting like venomous wax. It’s candlelight, but with a sinister sense of drama.

These aren’t your shiny, supermarket jack-o’-lanterns—they’re earthier, moodier, and way more elevated. Terracotta pumpkins bring a rustic, artisanal vibe to Halloween, with their chalky matte finishes, muted clay tones and hand-carved grins that feel almost sculptural. Some come in soft peach or gray-washed hues, others in weathered whites and browns, making them look like they’ve been unearthed from a centuries-old harvest festival. Set them aglow with fairy lights or tea candles, and the effect is less plastic decor, more moody pottery studio at dusk. It’s a simple swap that makes your porch (or living room) feel curated, cozy and just the right amount of haunted.

If Regina George decorated for Halloween, it would look exactly like this. The vibe of Michaels’s new Sweet & Spooky Decor Collection is unapologetically pink—bubblegum ghosts in platform boots, leopard-print lamps that scream Limited Too and wall art that reads like an AIM away message. Skeletons get the disco treatment (all sequins, no scares), while haunted cars and cheeky signs replace traditional cobwebs. It’s camp, it’s kitsch, and it’s all about mixing mall-goth snark with slumber party sparkle.

This season’s festive glassware takes the everyday lowball and layers it with cheeky details: floating pumpkins, swooping bats, tiny ghosts peeking through speckled glass—even embossed skulls that appear when your drink hits the light. Some lean playful (lime green with a witch’s hat), others feel more Practical Magic cocktail hour (think smoky glass dotted with spirits—literally). They’re equal parts collectible and functional, making them perfect for cider, whiskey or a candy-corn–colored Aperol spritz.

Remember a few years back, when we all taped black paper bats or sparrows across our mirrors, front doors and mantels? Well, rather than buying a new set—or cutting them out until your hands cramp—stores like Terrain and World Market are rolling out longer-lasting (and higher impact) twists. Think metal bat wreaths that can flutter above your mantel year after year, hyper-realistic ravens ready to perch on a branch, or skeleton fairies with gossamer wings that toe the line between creepy and boho. Cluster them together for a full “night creatures” effect or let one striking piece (like a single raven or skeletal fairy) command attention on its own.

These aren’t your average throw pillows—they’re huggable, Halloween-ready sidekicks. I’m seeing skeleton plushies with bendable limbs you can drape across the couch, fuzzy Jack Skellington faces and even a Michael Myers-esque pillow that’s equal parts creepy and cuddly. The textures are what make them fun: boucle-style bones, velvety pumpkins, soft sherpa “heads.” They double as decor and comfort—whether you’re tossing them on a bed layered with fairy lights or setting one in a chair to spook (and secretly comfort) your guests.

This is moody maximalism at its best. I’m seeing velvet in every form—pumpkins in jewel tones, runners that puddle dramatically off the edge of a table, even tapestries embroidered with velvet skeletons. The vibe is less polished showroom, more opera house gone a little ghostly: fabrics that feel heavy, theatrical and just slightly frayed. Try swapping glossy orange gourds for deep burgundy or midnight-blue velvet ones, and layer in a crushed-velvet pillow or two. The goal is a living room with the atmosphere of a haunted parlor: lush, moody and deliciously plush.

The driveway crime scene? Over. Motion-activated zombies with screaming sound effects? Please, no. At the risk of sounding like your HOA president, do you really need graphic, disemboweled remains scattered across your lawn? If you’re going to the lengths to create a haunted house, sure, throw it in there with a gory-stuff-ahead warning, but for your neighbors—and their five-year-old—who have to walk past it every day, don’t put it front and center.

Sure, the 12-foot pumpkin was all the rage when it first hit TikTok. But entire cul-de-sacs of inflatable reapers and giant skeletons feel more mall display than modern Halloween. They eat up space (and subtlety), which is exactly what design-minded decorators are rejecting in 2025. Instead of ballooning figures, we’re seeing a move toward layered vignettes: smaller, curated groupings of decor that tell a story. The vibe is shifting from “shock factor” to “styled tableau.”