Moby Dress — The Hunt For The Elusive White

My teenage daughter will graduate from high school one month from today. 

One. Month. From. Today.

(Can you tell that I'm freaking out?)

Between now and then, we have to negotiate Senior Project, Senior Prom, the Senior White Water Rafting Trip, Senior Banquet, Senior Awards, and then, finally, Graduation. We need to get her prom dress altered (temporarily shortened; it's  a loaner from dear family friends who are taller than my child). We need to schedule hair and nail and miscellaneous other appointments. We need to buy, borrow or in some other way secure the appropriate bling.

And, apparently, we need to find a white dress.

I questioned this at first. The "refrigerator letter" we received from the school (which was reinforced via email, snail-mail and a "mandatory meeting") encouraged girls to wear "dresses or skirts." Being a silk pants gal myself, this ruffled me a bit. Regardless, it didn't specify color — and that's saying something given that it was essentially five pages of very specific specifics. 

"Why white?" I asked, picturing all of the hardly ever or even never-worn dresses in her closet.

"Duh," she replied. "That's what graduation dresses are. White."

Okay, then.

You've probably already guessed that not one of the aforementioned hardly ever or even never-worn dresses in her closet is white. 

Of course not.

So, suddenly, we are on yet another mother-daughter quest. I readily agreed to this one, though, because I foresee a future in which our shopping trips will be few and far between. I cleared my schedule and we set out early. The plan was to hit the closest mall, find a dress and be home in time for her to drive a younger rider to the stable for afternoon lessons.

Our first stop was Burlington Coat Factory. (My sister, a New York-based actress, always does well there for audition clothes.) It's only a couple of miles past the mall, and I figured if we struck the jackpot, we might be able to avoid the mall altogether.

Sure enough, there were tons of white dresses! We found six or eight (or maybe it was ten) and she headed to the dressing room. The dresses were all similar, sleeveless, short, with A-line or "fit and flare" skirts, cotton knit with crocheted lace overlays.

I stood outside the dressing room and waited.

"Um ... Mom?"

"How is it?" I asked.

She reluctantly stepped out. "I look like Little House on the Prairie."

Now, I don't think she's ever seen Little House on the Prairie. I know she stopped reading the series about a quarter of the way through the first book, Little House in the Big Woods, because Pa butchered a pig.

Yet, the dress assessment was dead-on.

"Next!" I told her.

Unfortunately, the next one and the next — and the next, the next and next, next, next — were equally frumpy. I couldn't decide whether they were continuing the Ingalls Wilder look or if we had moved into Sister Wives territory. All she needed was taller hair so she could be closer to God.

We abandoned ship and went to the mall.

If nothing else, we were thorough and efficient. Macy's, American Eagle, J. Crew, Forever 21, Pac Sun, Hollister, Nordstrom, even J.C. Penney ... you name it, we hunted for that elusive white dress. Alas, no go. Most of them were just as frowsy as the first set. One or two were a little less shapeless, but that meant they were too tight to move.  
So, we're doing what any self-respecting digital-age mother-daughter team would do. We're ordering white dresses online. Multiple white dresses. We'll return what doesn't work. 

But, the whole adventure made me wonder. Was this some sort of statement about young women's roles. Not virgin vs. whore so much. More like Laura Ingalls vs. Miley Cyrus. 

Neither really fit my daughter's personality.

And, I have no problem with that.

If you've enjoyed this post, I invite you to order the book Lovin' the Alien here.     
 

No "Girls" Allowed

We survived Junior Prom, and learned some valuable lessons. For example, next year my teenage daughter plans to have her hair professionally done (hey, I did my best). We will start at Frugal Fannie's for the dress, not end there after a couple of expensive missteps. We'll order the flowers in advance.

It felt a little like my wedding twenty-ohmigod-three years ago. I was absolutely lost through the whole planning process. But, once it was over, I could have written a guidebook.

But, I digress. Back to Prom.

With all the rules surrounding Prom — and there were plenty of them — I was pleasantly surprised that not much was said about a dress code. And, when my husband and I attended the "red carpet" prior to bus-boarding and venue-arriving and Prom itself, we were very pleasantly surprised at the good taste demonstrated by most of our daughter's classmates. Oh sure, there was the occasional slit (here, there and everywhere). But, by and large, the dresses were age-appropriate, baring the right amount of skin.

We had seen the same girls and boys four years earlier as they left the upper middle school for the eighth grade Boston harbor cruise. It was billed as a "semi-formal" and many of the boys wore jackets and ties — some comfortably and some ... well ... not. Most of the girls wore short dresses. Really short dresses. Short short short dresses. Some were skintight and girls were struggling to pull them down before they even left school property. Add to this that at least half of the girls were (for the first time in many cases) wearing high heels. Really high heels. High high high heels. The entire class was a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.

The scene was the epitome of awkward. First of all, unless you're Brooke Shields, eighth grade hits in the middle of an awkward stage. The boys still looked like boys, while the girls looked like underage lingerie models. They were dressed and made up to look adult though. Very adult.

So fast forward to this year's big event. They all looked like grownups. And, as I said, despite a few instances of too much cleavage (back and side, as well as front), they were quite elegant.

Other schools across the country may have had less success keeping the kids in enough clothing. The news has covered a number of towns in which Prom-goers were informed of dress code rules a little too late. Some girls (not mine, obviously) buy their Prom dresses months and months in advance. If you're suddenly told that the strapless gown you paid $200 (or, in many cases, significantly more) for won't work, what are you supposed to do? And whether well-intentioned or not, the rules always revolve around girls and girly body parts, objectifying them as much as the offending garments did.

This week, a story broke about a school that sent what attempted (but failed) to be a humorous letter home, prescribing appropriate dress for another teen milestone: Graduation. The Upper Adams School in Bigliverville, PA, in its Proper Attire & Etiquette for Awards Program and Graduation, stipulated some general rules, like "No flip flops," "No chewing gum," "No sunglasses," as well as gender-specific ones:

Ladies: Choose modest attire. No bellies showing, keep "the girls" covered and supported, and make sure that nothing is so small that all your bits and pieces are hanging out.  Please remember that as you select an outfit for the awards assembly that we don't want to be looking at "sausage rolls" as Mrs. Elliott calls them. As you get dressed remember that you can't put 10 pounds of mud in a five-pound sack.

Okay, who is Mrs. Elliott and how dare she compare any girl to processed meat? (Way to add insult to injury for someone who is probably already feeling body shame.)

To be fair, boys were warned to "PULL YOUR PANTS UP!," but there was no mention of their "bits and pieces." As usual, it's the girl who is the focus of these rules and, consequently, the girl who must carry the responsibility for ensuring the morality of all.

When parents complained (and I guess they did, in great numbers), the school issued a quick mea culpa:

The Administration acknowledges that some individuals have found certain language in the document to be inappropriate or in poor taste. The document was drafted years ago, and the author of the original document has since retired. The document does not reflect the high standards of the Upper Adams School District, and the Administration will take appropriate action to address the issue. 

Okay, but then they moonwalked just a little ...

While we regret that the document contained some unfortunate word choices, we do respect all students and hope this does not distract from the dignity of the graduation ceremony and the accomplishments of our graduating class.

Saying "While we reget such-and-such" is the same as saying "We're sorry, but ..." It kind of negates the power of the apology. 

The sorry situation was a fairly minor and harmless event. But, I'm glad that parents protested. If we want our daughters to feel in control of their own bodies, rather than ashamed of them, we need to stay vigilant. Schools should respect and defend the rights of all students. 

This includes boys and anyone with "girls."

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my book  Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com. 

Popping the Question: Junior Prom, Part 5

All right already ... I said I'd write about my teenage daughter's promposal and so I will. But let's start by explaining what a promposal is in the first place.

According to urbandictionary.com (one of my faves), promposal is defined as:

(n)- a proposal from one person asking another person to the prom; the combination of the words "prom" and "proposal." 

Then, as is their way, the folks at urbandictionary.com give us a humorous example:

Jake: I'm thinking about how I'll do my promposal...
Sean: Who're you going to ask?
Jake: Well, I haven't decided yet.
Sean: You have to decide before you ask someone to prom! 

Sean has a point. But, Jake is wise to plan ahead. A date is ... well ... just a date. But, thanks to the ubiquity of social media, a promposal can live forever. And over the past few years, the promposal bar has been raised quite high. Sky-high in fact.

Back in the ancient times of 1980, I was a senior in a virtually all-girls class of an urban school. We had no prom. So, we, if reason follows, had no promposals either. Before you go feeling sorry for me, let me reassure you that I didn't know what I was missing. My contemporaries in more traditional high schools weren't getting promposalled either.

The Washington Post cites 2001 as the first known official promposal, reported (and christened a "promposal") by the Dallas Morning News. Some students hijacked the school loudspeaker and sang a song from Adam Sandler's The Wedding Singer, but with new prom-tastic lyrics. Their dates said yes. The school said "You're suspended."

Fear not, gentle readers, the consequences suffered by the hopeful singers didn't deter future promposers. In fact, being suspended for a particularly creative and over-the-top promposal makes the whole thing that much more exciting.

Public displays of affection — painting a billboard, dressing up like a gorilla, riding a horse into school — became de rigeur. And as teens embraced social media ("Embraced social media?" Is that an understatement or what?), promposals were suddenly everywhere. Besides, hopefully, getting your date to say "Yes," your success could be measured by Facebook likes and shares, and YouTube views. 

Here's a quick list of some popular promposals:

1. Filling someone's locker with flowers
2. Decorating cupcakes with "Will you go to prom with me?"
3. Cover (and I mean COVER) her/his car with post-it notes
4. Deliver a pizza with a "cheesy" message
5. Hang a banner across a highway overpass
5. Send your message via puppy or kitten
6. Spell out the question on his/her front lawn with silly string
7. Paint it on the side of a cow (not for urban schools)
8. Hijack a movie marquee
9. Buy a charm bracelet with the letters P-R-O-M and ?
10. Make a music video

So ... how did my daughter's date ask her to prom? I'll tell you. You see, I'm not just her mother, I'm an accomplice. My daughter's date and their mutual bestie texted me several times. They needed to know when she would be at the stable where she keeps her horse, so they could go there and surreptitiously plant le promposal. Between schedules shifting (hers, theirs, mine), it was about two weeks before the actual event went down.

My daughter arrived at the stable for her riding lesson and was suprised to see her friends there. She was even more surprised when they insisted that she introduce them to the resident goat. "LuLu" was wearing a special cape (brilliantly made out of an old tee shirt, with the collar intact but only one wide rectangle below). It read:

Will you goat to prom with me?

Of course, her answer was "Yes." 

He had her at "goat."

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my book  Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

The "Yes" Dress: Junior Prom, Part 3

Junior Prom is just two months away, and I'm beginning to feel like my daughter is Cinderella. So does that make me her wicked stepmother? Or her fairy godmother?

She isn't sweating the whole date thing (she'll either go with a boy friend — not to be confused with a boyfriend — or with a group of girls). But, finding the right dress has been a bit of a challenge.

The first dress she liked was from an online store. Despite reservations from a couple of her besties when she shared screen grabs with them, she (we) decided to try it. We took her measurements and compared them carefully to the size chart on the website. There was no question; she was a Small.

When the dress arrived a few days later, there was no question; it was too small.

Actually, it looked gorgeous. It was a royal blue, off the shoulder with a beaded bodice. Stunning, really and (unlike some of the dresses we'd seen) age-appropriate. But, there were two teensy weensy problems. She couldn't breathe or lift her arms — both of which, she might want to do on the evening of the prom. So, we returned it and requested a Medium.

Another few days later, the alternate dress arrived. Suddenly, we felt like we had left Cinderella and were stuck in Goldilocks and the Three Bears. While the first dress was too small, the second was too big. To make it "just right," we would need to enlist the aid of a local tailor.

But, alas, my fairy tale princess seemed to have changed her mind. Even when I clipped it in the back so she could see how it would fit (when it actually did fit), she just didn't love it anymore. Back it went.

Note to self, and to other moms buying prom dresses. Free delivery is all well and good, but you may want to review the return policy carefully. The website was happy to take them back, but charged us a 10% "restocking fee," as well as return postage. All said and done, we were out about $50 and didn't have a dress to show for it.

Enter Prince Charming, in the guise of my husband. We had to run a family errand about an hour from home, and he did something quite extraordinary. (1) It occurred to him that a famous women's clothing discounter — one "Frugal Fannie's" — was fairly near where we were headed. And (2) he actually offered to take us there.

To put this in perspective, there are probably at least one hundred thousand things my husband would rather do than go shopping. Sitting through Wagner's Ring Cycle comes to mind. Or getting a root canal. Clearly, this was a case of his putting our daughter's needs ahead of his own. He was very much the hero of the hour.

Frugal Fannie's was mobbed. I immediately found a department called "Occasion Dresses," and my daughter and I browsed with determination. (Her father was staying in the car, thank you very much.) No luck. The gowns were fairly dowdy, more mother-of-the-bride than belle-of-the-ball. I found a sales associate and asked if there was another place we should look.

Sure enough, there was an entire "Prom" section. In short order, we found three potential frocks and headed to the vast communal dressing room.

The first dress was lovely — also royal blue, also off the shoulder, but a drapey silk, almost Grecian in shape. The second didn't fit right — not too small or too big, just not right. The third made "too much noise;" it was a silk taffeta and rustled unacceptably. The first went back on again. A few quick pictures, and we had gained approval from friends and father. Within fifteen minutes we were done.

On our way to the register, we found a silver clutch and a rhinestone brooch that would add just the right amount of bling. And, all of our loot was considerably less than the original dress(es). Once we got home, the princess tried the dress on again, this time with heels. We all agreed ...

Perfect.

So the tale of the prom dress had a happy ending ... with many thanks to her fairy godfather.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

Boys Just Want To Have ... Prom?: Junior Prom, Part 2

A couple of days ago, I wrote about my daughter's upcoming prom. The anticipation. The glamor. The Facebook page where junior girls are posting pictures of their dresses. 

(BTW, we are now on frock number two, and I will keep you posted.)

What I didn't realize is that the boys seem to be just as excited.

Or so they would have us believe.

'Turns out some enterprising boys have set up a brother Facebook page. It has 59 members and following the lead of their female classmates, many of the young men have posted their proposed prom looks. Comments are few and far between, but some of the more — shall we say — "creative" pictures have generated a lot of "likes."

Here are some of my favorites, along with their descriptions:

"I'm getting this"

"pic of me wearing my tux. its made from real 32 K gold so imma be swooping yo dates like I'm apple picking"

"Hey guys just a thought, I want to the north end and tried this on today, I think it looks fab"

"Tryna make a statement this year"

Some boys are planning to be more casual about the whole thing ...

While others are going for drama ...

Then, there are the more traditional options ...

My loyal readers will surely understand when I insist that I wouldn't normally condone boys making fun of girls. But, the whole Facebook prom dress thing struck me as so odd and (shortly after) this parody struck me as so funny ... I can't help myself. The comments are clever, the pictures are silly, and it all seems to be in good humor.

Classic black tie? Leather? Gold? Or cape and breeches? It's a tough call, but the boys seem to be on top of it. And, if all else fails, a boy can always throwback to the 1970s and choose a tux that matches the color of his date's dress ...

Audible sigh. 'Reminds me of pictures of my husband back in 1976. 

Except his was yellow.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

Fixing Things

Okay, I admit it. Sometimes I'm the first in line to complain about teenagers. In fact, for the past two years, I've regularly aired my grievances in this blog. But, I hope my readers (and, more importantly, my daughter) recognize that I do so with humor and affection. Well, usually. Well, sometimes. Well ...

Let's move on.

This post is not about monosyllabic responses, digital addiction, dress codes, or so-called music. What I want to talk about right now is my teenage daughter's generation and how they see right through their parents' and grandparents' bad behavior. How they overcome prejudice that has long been taken for granted. How willing they are to not just ask for change, but to make change happen.

And, how proud I am of them.

When I was growing up in the late sixties and early seventies, interracial families were still fairly few and far between — even in my liberal, artsy Manhattan neighborhood. My classmates from "mixed marriages," dealt with everything from the outright rage of bigots to the awkward question of who should they hang out with. "Am I white? Am I black?" Even in New York, there were still remnants of categorization and language from our country's shameful history of human bondage, with terms like "mulatto" and veiled references to the "one-drop rule."

Even the adults I knew who prided themselves on their own "color blindness" still voiced concern about the rest of society and how it would treat these kids. "I'm not prejudiced myself, but ..." Blah blah blah. Simultaneously self-righteous and self-delusional.

What gets me really excited (and hopeful) about the future is how many of my daughter's friends truly do seem to be color blind. They see diversity where we only saw segregation: on TV, in music, in celebrity marriages. Maybe this blending hasn't trickled down yet to their very town, neighborhood or high school, but it's all around them and ingrained in their teen brains.

This past weekend, a bunch of teenagers in southern Georgia took an important step toward erasing a history of thinly veiled ("separate but equal") prejudice in their community. And, in doing so, they inspired adults from all over the country.

For the first time ever, Wilcox County High School had an integrated prom.

All right, when I heard about this a couple of weeks ago, I had to pinch myself. C'mon, I thought, it's 2013. Segregated proms? You have got to be kidding me! But, no. Since 1971, Wilcox High School has effectively gotten around United States laws that would prevent a public school from discriminating against one or another group of students. How? By not "officially" having a prom at all. Instead, the two dances take place as private events, organized and funded by parents. When interviewed, these well-meaning folks have defended the separate galas with that same kind of "ignore the 2,000 pound elephant in the room" blah blah blah.

"It's not that we have anything against the others. Our kids just prefer different music. Blah blah blah."

"It isn't about racism, just tradition. Blah blah blah."

And, here's an actual quote from a member of the City Council. “This whole issue has been blown out of proportion. Nobody had a problem with having two proms until it got all this publicity.”

In other words, if the media doesn't catch wind of it, it's okay? Shame on you. Really.

So, here's the part of the story that I love. Why did the media find out about this? Because the Wilcox High students (or at least a huge group thereof) decided that two proms was one too many. Here's another part I love, that the kids were so common sensical about the whole thing. They didn't get overly militant about it all. They wanted to change this touted tradition because it's dumb. Because it's their prom. Because that's not who they are.

Can you tell I love this story?

Their Facebook page (of course these millenials would leverage social media to the max) explains, “We live in rural south Georgia, where not too many things change. As a group of adamant high school seniors, we want to make a difference in our community. For the first time in the history of our county, we plan to have an integrated prom.”

They succeeded.

And, very soon (maybe even next year), there won't be segregated proms or an integrated prom. 

It'll just be ... prom.