Saturday, May 17, 2008

These are the best days of our lives: Prom 2008

Let's face it -- not everything under the sun goes according to plan. My prom ensemble, for example, deviated from my original plan.

When I realized that the Betsey Johnson Clover Shoes that I originally coveted were no longer available in size 6, I opted for a pair of yellow Betsey Johnson 'Felicia' Pumps. Usually I'm not a fan of florals, but the bright colors contrasted well with my otherwise faded pink consignment store dress find. Along with a vintage gold and porcelain flower pin, single strand of pearls, polka-dotted clutch, and black silhouette earrings, I was ready for prom night.

But not so ready for the 105°F weather. By the time I left my house in my 4-inch stilettos and and thick tulle-lined dress, sweat was dripping down my forehead, smearing moist black eyeliner along the bottom ridges of my eyes.

Nonetheless, prom was a smashing celebration of high-school, from the impossibly discernible screams and gyrating hips on the dance floor to the burnt chocolate chip cookies at 3:00 in the morning.
Even though my shoes stood out against my mostly pastel ensemble, my corsage matched my pumps with a bright yellow ribbon and raspberry-colored flowers.
I enjoyed a plate of succulent medium rare lamp chops from a phenomenal Mediterranean restaurant -- actually no, I had gorged on pita bread and a Shirley Temple cocktail before the lamp chops came, so I only had one of the lamp chops before I discovered the taste wonders of spinach.I must have had three Shirley Temples that night -- because at the actual dance, there was a bar. If I wasn't so full, I probably would have spent the rest of the dance snacking on cakes and fruits dipped in the chocolate fountain.

"You guys, I think I'm going to cry," exclaimed a senior, resplendent in a satin black gown, after the last song.

A friend once mentioned that prom is the happiest night for juniors and the saddest night for seniors. As I gazed at that senior walking by me, I bit my lip at the imminence of her departure from high-school -- and yet as a junior, I could not help but hold onto my sweat-drenched friends a bit more tighter.

Miss Couturable
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