Howard Community College is sponsoring a Perfect Prom Project, where we are collecting donations of gently-used formal attire, shoes, and accessories, then will open a "boutique" for high school girls that might not be able to afford prom-wear, otherwise. It's a really nice project, and something I'm totally on board with because:
- It encourages reuse of what is usually a one-time item (prom dress), so it's environmentally friendly, too. Although, do people ever actually throw out prom dresses? Do prom dresses ever really die? Mine is still hanging in my closet at my parent's house, and I can't imagine that it will ever get thrown away. Maybe eventually donated to Goodwill and end up as someone's Halloween costume...
- I really love pretty dresses. I would just collect them if that was a normal thing to do. But that's a pretty impractical hobby, so this is a great way to get a fix.
I have two I'd like to share with you.
This one cracks me up. My boyfriend at the time, Tim, had picked me up at my parents' house - well, I should say - Tim's mom had driven him by my parent's house to give the illusion of being picked up, but then we both sat in the back seat while she drove us (I think) back to his house. He had, of course, presented me with my corsage (which still sits dried in a trunk at my parents' house)(unless it's reduced to dust by now, which is possible) when he had initially "picked me up." Since his mother had missed this, we performed a dramatic recreation of the corsage presentation in his mom's living room.
If you look in the mirror above the couch, you can see how absolutely fake it looks. Tim's dramatic presentation, my overly-gracious smile.
There's a lot going on in this next photo.
First, you might notice our friends Jeff and Adam in the background, circling the limo. Look closer, and you'll see that the "spare tire" (I have my doubts that this is an actual spare tire) is leaning out from the trunk. This is because our chauffeur had backed into a mailbox, and the guys were trying to decide if they could safely adjust it. In a later photo, it is revealed that, in fact, they could.
You might also notice that while Beth and Lynn are grinning broadly, as girls in prom pictures usually do, I look sullen and near tearful. It is not because I ripped my pantyhose or because my shoes are too tight, or because I'm annoyed I have to carry this damn corsage around all night while the other girls get to wear theirs.
Our prom was aboard Majestic, a boat in the Gateway Clipper Fleet, sailing from downtown Pittsburgh. Although I claim Pittsburgh as my hometown, we really lived about 45 minutes away. I'm sure kids still travel to the prom this way. Couples start at one of their two houses, and then a cluster of couples converge at a final house to take a limo together. So, Tim and I had been to my house, his house, and then finally Adam's house (I think), the closest to our final destination.
As we were taking pictures at our last stop, the stop the farthest away from Tim's house, the stop closest to the dock and our very prompt boarding time, Tim realized:
He did not have our prom tickets.
It had been stressed in school many times that we absolutely, postitively:
1. Could not be late
2. Must have our tickets
or we would not be able to board the boat.
The above photo was taken right after this news broke. The probable reason that Tim is not examining the tire is because he was inside, frantically trying to get a hold of his mom, who was probably on her way home, in an age when most regular folks did not have cell phones.
This is the face of a 17-year-old girl, who, a year earlier, might have believed she'd never go to a prom, who, now, moments away from going to the prom, just found out that she might not go to the prom.
It is the face of barely-concealed hysteria.
Never fear, it all worked out in the end. I don't remember quite how, just that we went ahead to the dock, and Tim disappeared for awhile to wait for his sister, who saved the day by delivering the tickets, and a good time was had by all. Phew.
When I told Kevin this story, he fell silent. I had expected him to make fun of Tim, tell me how lucky I was that I didn't end up with that dimwit.
Then, in my moment of realization, I said,
"Huh. I guess I sort of have a type, don't I?" :-)
(but seriously, if you a dress you'd like to donate to the Perfect Prom Project, we're taking them until February 17th. Leave me a comment and I'll get in touch with you. Remember, it can be any formal dress - even a bridesmaid dress!)