The undead are invading L.A.
They wear Santa hats and sunglasses, American flags and pool floaties. Some stand erect, towering over houses and neighborhoods. Others rot in the California sun, disintegrating into bony fragments. A pelvis atop two legs in a driveway. A skull peering over a rooftop.
They are, of course, giant 12-foot skeletons. And if they’re not in your neighborhood already, they probably will be soon.
Released by Home Depot in 2020, the Halloween prop known as “Skelly” has transmogrified from a meme into a movement. At first mostly limited to the month of October and maybe a week or two in November, many skeletons now stay up year-round as their proud owners deck them out with whatever theme fits the latest holiday: Christmas, Easter, the Fourth of July, etc.
Giant skeletons sit in the yard of a home on N. Fairfax Avenue in Los Angeles.
(Arwen Clemans / Los Angeles Times)
Some are political: a Putin skeleton puppeteering an undead Trump, or a skeleton with a sign that says “Not vaccinated, see you soon idiots!” Others are the subject of fights with cities and homeowners associations. In L.A. and its environs, they’re everywhere: Highland Park, Venice, Culver City, Westchester, Burbank, Pasadena, Los Feliz, Hollywood and beyond.
They’re loved, they’re hated and they’re a natural byproduct of Los Angeles — a city filled with the creative and the bohemian, with people who want to make a splash, get a laugh or simply be noticed.
But there’s another uniquely L.A. reason why more and more skeletons are becoming permanent yard fixtures: They’re too big to put away.
As home prices skyrocket, storage space becomes a luxury. Backyards hold ADUs. Large closets become bedrooms. Giant skeletons stand for 365 days a year for the same reason that pianos, treadmills and couches are given away for free — they’re too big to do anything else with. Better up than in.
Bradberry with pants custom-made for Skelly.
(Arwen Clemans / Los Angeles Times)
“Home Depot made a plastic storage bin specifically for the skeletons, but even the storage bins are huge,” said Tyler Bradberry, a South Los Angeles resident who has kept a giant skeleton in his yard since 2020. “Space is expensive. It’s L.A.”
For Bradberry, who works in visual arts, the skeleton is an extension of the inside of his home, where maximalism reigns with psychedelic art — Pushead, H.R. Giger, Neck Face etc. — and a life-size E.T. statue.
“Everything is so sterile now. Everyone wants their house to look like a square box,” he said. “It’s nice for things to stick out a bit. Weird stuff gives the neighbors something to talk about.”
At least one neighbor has had a bone to pick — an older man from Central America who told him he was “playing with death.”
For Christmas, Bradberry dressed the skeleton as Santa Claus, with a six-foot beard. For a haunted frat-themed birthday party, he gave it a toga.
In 2023, he went viral for digitally editing a pair of comically large Jnco jeans on the skeleton. Shortly after, with the help of two friends who work in wardrobe design, he brought the meme to life, debuting a skeleton with billowing denim at the L.A. culture festival ComplexCon, where artists, designers and rappers converge.
“Chief Keef thought it was hilarious,” he said.
In Atwater Village, photographer Lexi Bonin has had hers up since 2020. What started as a 12-foot skeleton, beaten by years of wind and rain, has withered into a six-foot pelvis on two legs.
“I’m the house with the legs,” Bonin said.
She lives near the L.A. River Trail, so plenty of passersby take pictures. Bonin tried taking it down last year, but as soon as she did, a father and son drove by to see it and expressed their dismay that it was gone.
“People were upset, but when we brought it back for Halloween, everyone was stoked,” she said.
Businesses are joining the movement as well. Above VCA Burbank Animal Hospital, a skeleton named RIPley reminds incoming pet owners of their pets’ mortality. Manager Alana Jennings-Dunn said it went up last October as a reward for 100% of employees completing a survey on workplace culture, but now it’s a neighborhood staple.
“It’s been a great way to connect with the community,” Jennings-Dunn said. “We’ve become known as the hospital with the skeleton.”
Bruce Dow, who lives in the Central Valley city of Turlock, said people drive by his skeleton — named Mr. Bones — every single day.
“Out at lunch a few months ago, a stranger recognized me as the skeleton guy,” he said.
For Father’s Day, Dow’s skeleton grilled. Dow spray-painted an inflatable swimming pool black for a barbecue and asked his mom to sew a giant apron.
Giant skeletons, holding the numbers 6 and 7, sit in the yard of a home on N. Normandie Avenue in Los Angeles.
(Arwen Clemans / Los Angeles Times)
Dow is a member of the “12 Foot Skeleton Halloween Club,” a Facebook group with more than 64,000 members where people share their own designs and stories: a skeleton melting after a house fire, or a stolen skull tracked down by police.
A small industry has popped up around the skeletons, including 3-D-printed masks and custom repair parts. Dow paid $35 for two shoulder sockets and $40 for custom elbow joints after his broke. He also sprays the skeleton with a UV-protectant coating made for boats to keep the plastic from withering.
It’s a hit around his neighborhood, he says. Dow hasn’t had any pushback from neighbors, but says he’s seen it elsewhere.
“People say they’re making home values drop, or claim skeletons are part of the devil. Crazy stuff like that,” he said. “But there’s always gonna be those people.”
Around L.A., there are plenty.
Cody Bowers, who lives in Hollywood, said he can see a skeleton from his second-story window.
“At first it was funny, but the joke wears off quickly,” he said. “It’s a beautiful neighborhood. Palm trees, beautiful plants, the mountains in the background. And then this massive skeleton.”
He added that it feels like a trend that’s already tired, the modern version of lawn gnomes or flamingos.
Amy Chen walks by a skeleton in Highland Park with her dog every day.
“I like it, but my dog doesn’t,” she said. “He starts barking whenever we get too close.”
On the Los Angeles Reddit page, a user posted a picture of a home with a giant skeleton standing on the roof and a pair of skeleton dogs at its side, titled “Interesting house today (not Halloween) in West Adams.” Opinions varied.
“we live in Los Angeles not Halloween town,” one user wrote.
Others supported the bold choice, if for no other reason than it flipped the bird at convention.
“I wear pajamas when I work from home on behalf of those who can’t. This is the HOA version,” wrote another.
A Westside real estate agent, who asked to be quoted anonymously to not offend potential clients, said she handled the sale of a condo near a house with a giant skeleton out front last year. The listing went up around October, so she figured the skeleton was temporary.
When she hosted open houses in November and December, the tower of plastic bones was still standing.
“When you’re selling a house, you don’t want anything that could deter a potential buyer,” she said, adding that it didn’t affect the final sale price, but it gave her a few headaches along the way.
They’re probably not going anywhere soon. If anything, they’ll only get bigger — and louder.
An arms race has already started for this upcoming Halloween, as Lowe’s recently unveiled a 15-foot skeleton that could give Skelly a Napoleon complex. It can talk, turn and be activated by sound, motion or footpad.
Fans now wait with bated breath to see Home Depot’s response. Nothing has been officially announced, but a sneak peek video suggests that the latest version of Skelly will come with an upgraded speaker and an app to program what it says.
Dow said his skeleton will stay up indefinitely.
“Everybody’s asking what I’m gonna do next,” he said. “I have an audience. I can’t let them down.”
