Last night, whilst we were sat down for our weekly family chitchat (something that often ends in World War 3), the subject of prom popped up. Prom. HA, I have mixed opinions about this 'passage of right'. Although I've already had my high school prom, fast approaching is my little sisters prom and she's already planned every aspect of her night. The dress, must be long and flattering in either black, aqua or purple, the shoes must be verging on 7 inch heels with a platform to match (preferabley Kurt Geiger or Carvella), she wants needs minimal jewellry and a very bright clutch bag that will match her eyes (how on earth can you find a bag to match your eyes?) and of course, she must have been on holiday either prior to the night or wear enough fake tan to make her look like she often spends her leisuretime playing volleyball in the Bahamas. Trivial little things that seem to make a young girls night that bit more perfect.
After all, that's exactly what we want isn't it? Perfection. Who wants to be the girl that everybody remembers seeing, but nobody remembers exactly what she was wearing; the one person that although you know were there, you made no conscious effort to talk to because she simply didn't look good enough to have a photo with. We watch so many American-ised films depicting the perfect prom or homecoming, where the disco ball is so grande that it would have needed a forklift to get it into place or the amount of flowers that are there are enough to send someone with hayfever into a shock. There's always that special dance with that special person and even though without a doubt, something is bound to go wrong, the heroes and heroines in the film always manage to come away saying that it was the best night of their lives.



The perfect first dance, romantic, intimate and somewhat unrealstic unless you are in Gossip Girl....

Cue reality ; the inevitabley awkward first dance with that one special chap

My prom, in all honesty, was not all that great. Ok, it wasn't all that bad. Nobody was sick on my dress after too much diluted bucksfizz, nobody was arrested, the DJ didn't fall off the stage whilst doing the running man (although in my opinion that would have made the night a smidge more rememberable) and there wasn't any scandals. It was simply prom. Girls spent weeks preparing for it; spray tanning until they resembled someone of a different ethnicity, applying fake talons and eyelashses and spending ridiculous amounts of money on dresses and glittery accesorises. By the time they had actually got to the venue, they had spent so long hyping up the event, that it was regretably always going to be a let down.
I bought my dress from a vintage shop, nobody could believe the price that I had paid for it but I guess that that was part of why I liked it so much. My shoes, I got on whim after a lovely day of shopping with my mum. My one and only bracelet was one that my mum had picked out and I wore a necklace my grandma got me for my conformation. I didn't have my hair professionally teased into a celebrity worthy style, I had a makeover at the bodyshop after I tried some spot reducing cream (glam, I know) and the only bit of 'tanning' I did, was standing in the garden to have a couple of photos taken. I went to the same venue, had the same meal (although I remember that was a disaster and we didn't eat it) and all in all had the same night as my friends who had spent X amount on the evening. I think what I am trying to say, is that money and expensive things aren't everything.
Although in reality, the night of prom was a letdown, I didn't enjoy myself less because I wasn't wearing a £500 dress. We get so caught up on looking 'perfect' that we often race through life without really enjoying it. I asked a girl after prom what was the best moment and she said she couldn't really remember anything after having her spray tan done. This is sad. I can remember prom, not as a huge, exciting, glamourous and expensive night where all my dreams came true, but as a night that I had a good time with my friends, sat on a ridiculously large pouff in the girls toilets whilst singing along to moulin rouge, watched my friends piggyback race in huge prom gowns, talked merrily with my tipsy science teacher, snorted lines of pepper and salt with the class druggies like a pro, nearly exposed all when one girl arrived in a helicopter and dancing until I couldn't walk in my shoes for a minute longer and had to massage my friends and my feet on the coach journey home. I think these little things are what made my prom rememberable, not the fact that I was swept off my feet and that it was the 'Night Of My Life'.