I can’t believe what I wore to my year 10 formal.
Really, it should’ve been a puffy shouldered peach taffeta Disney princess kinda number… but it wasn’t even close.
I got thinking about my year 10 formal this week when my 15-year-old son attended his.
But unlike his three-course-meal-dance-party-parent-organised-extravaganza… mine was a school-sanctioned ballroom dancing affair with the local ‘all boys’ school. And it was lame.
Which might explain why I chose the dress.
I’ve always been a little rebellious with my clothes… less so now I’m all grown up and respectable… but back then I wanted to shock the teachers and scare the nuns.
We had to complete several rounds (think a circle of boys inside a circle of girls) of B_A_L_L_R_O_O_M D_A_N_C_I_N_G with a bunch of geeky, pimply boys who had sweaty hands and oversized suits.
While my friends wore said flowing taffeta frocks, I chose to do the Polka in a sleeveless, collared, pleather mini dress.
I’ll just give you a moment to take that sentence in.
Seriously, I looked like I was off to an S & M conference – my parents must’ve been mortified, but bless them they let me wear it anyway.
I felt fantastic,.. sure, I was sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage and cursing my hopeless Impulse deodorant but I was making a statement,… even if it was “I’m off to Sexpo”!
Watching my son and the other kids posing for photos in the park by the beach, amongst the spray tans and Hollywood tape, I didn’t see anyone that stood out like I did that night… But I did see a girl in a red dress wearing Converse sneakers. “Good for you” I thought… but I bet she doesn’t know how to do the Fox Trot.