It’s mid-May and we’re smack dab in the middle of Prom season. How did it creep up so fast? Wasn’t it just Christmas?
And how in the world did this kid grow up so fast that he just attended his senior Prom last weekend?
This is my nephew, Christian, and I swear to God, it was just a couple months ago that we were surfing and kayaking the California coast and he was only … sixteen! Still a sophomore in high school, his prom was light years away! I remember this clearly because we talked about it and at the time he was so, like, WHATEVER, dude.
Oh, the sweet rowdiness of the high school Prom. The excitement of picking out the dress, taking photos with your friends, slow dancing amidst lots of colored balloons. Do you remember yours? I sure do remember mine.
I went to Prom both junior and senior years. I went to the first Prom with three other couples. We had dinner at the Claremont in Berkeley.
I wore this really pretty dress that my mom made me. We’d found the original dress at Nieman Marcus in San Francisco, but it was so outrageously expensive and yet simply made that my mom looked it over carefully and decided she would try and make it for me instead. It turned out perfectly. The dress was a black velvet A-line that came down to my calves. The neckline in the front was fairly high by today’s standards—it came up to my collar bone. But it plunged down my back in a deep V that ended, well, pretty low if you catch my drift. The waist was cinched in with a really wide swatch of dark grey iridescent silk that was ruched kind of like a combo cummerbund/corset. It was very cool and sophisticated. I loved that dress. I looked hot in that dress.
I remember feeling so grown up on Prom night. I grew up on brat-pack movies like Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club. Going to Prom was like finally making it into one of those movies. I’d arrived.
And, oh yeah. Did I forget to mention the boy-girl interaction? Uhm, yeah. Sweet.