We’re accompanying a couple of special girls to their formal this evening. They’ve been excitedly planning this event for the entire school year. They’ve carefully chosen beautiful dresses and stylish accessories. They’ve made the difficult decision about who to invite and worked up the courage to ask them.
I’m reminiscing about my own formal today. I wore a strapless black-shot-purple taffeta number with velvet trim. It had a tulle underskirt for extra poof and a matching black velvet bolero jacket.
I wore faux pearls with an oroton earring clipped on as a pendant. Mum found a Nutrometics consultant who lived up the street to paint my face and I had temporary talons glued to my own modest fingernails.
Amid the questionable fashion choices I made in my preparation for formal, I made one good decision: my choice of partner - a nice boy named Michael who I knew from tennis. He was kind enough to ask me to dance a second time after I was socially awkward enough to knock back his initial invitation.
I squeezed myself back into this dress a few years ago for a hens party which was ‘bad bridesmaid/formal dress themed”. Some girls had to trawl op-shops for something suitably daggy. Not me; my own daggy offering had been carefully preserved by my Mum for all these years.