Tag Archives: Blame the Photgrapher
Tara writes: “This was our 8th grade dance, & I have no idea what possessed us to all try to take a picture together. Yes, it is a Polaroid. I’m the one in the black, in the chair (yes, chair). The girl in the teal actually borrowed that dress & matching dyed shoes from me.”
Is it me, or is everyone’s fashion sort of…pointy? I don’t remember 1993 having so many angles. Then again, my brain was in a hair mousse fog in 1993, so who can remember? It just seems that the bustlines are all Vs and the shoes are Vs and even the hairdos are kind of Vs and hey, remember Polaroids?
I am enamored of this photo for many reasons. I really like that it captures all the awkward that is 8th grade prom. Everyone is trying to look older than they are, but can’t quite pull it off. I love the girl standing in the purple dress who is happy to hold her date’s hand, and somehow simultaneously lean into him while leaning AS FAR AWAY FROM HIM AS POSSIBLE. (“You can have my shoulders, but nothing below the waist!”)
Compare this to the boy all the way on the right, who has casually placed his arm around his date, but is refusing to suggest he in any way enjoys that fact. His look (from what I can make of the shadowy Polaroid) seems to be saying, “Everyone here smells.”
I also enjoy the poor girl all the way in the back on the left. The ones in the back in the middle you can’t see at all; but she? She had a fighting chance to been seen. Unfortunately, all we know is that she’s in a white dress with high hair and at least one white shoe.
The girl in the middle? I AM WEARING PURPLE POLKA DOTS AND I CAN STILL KICK YOUR ASS. It is my professional opinion that you don’t ever want to mess with a girl willing to wear purple polka dots to a formal event.
As for the girl in teal on a plastic chair who’s exposing far more of her thigh than she ever intended, well. What can you do about those sleeves? Somewhere, in her subconscious, she knew. She knew that someday, somehow, the sleeves would come back to get her.
And they have.
Also, I don’t understand the brown /\ chevron thing in the background, but it’s clearly unimportant because it’s been covered by batches of NOT EVEN MYLAR balloons.
Man, I love Polaroids.
Christy writes: Junior prom. My boyfriend broke up with me the day before. I bought my own corsage and convinced my girlfriends to take this picture with me. I’m the one on the right. Showing you my shoe.
This is one of those photos that I love more and more with each passing glance. It’s just — “just” — four girls at prom. And yet?
Why is no one smiling? I mean, the second from the left is thinking about smiling, but doesn’t quite get there. I have the distinct feeling this was established to be a “serious” sort of photo shoot for some reason I can’t fathom but that would have made sense when I was 17.
Apparently 1992 had something against straight hemlines. And straight hair, for that matter. I mean, no, none of these adorable girls have official perms (that would be too 80s), but they are all certainly flirting with the perm. They are PERM FLIRTS.
The girl in black looks like she wants to smack the photographer just a little bit.
There’s just a deceptively copious amount of satin and tulle and sequin and lace and bows and ruffles and Promtacular glory. If I do say so.
Mostly I wonder if the girls — or the photographer — decided to go the “show us your toe” route in the hopes of distracting us from the carpet that defies explanation. I have nothing against the pattern for a QUILT. In a log cabin. In Maine. In February. Or even for a nice golf pant? Maybe?
But for a magical prom night? There aren’t enough mylar star balloons or satin shoes in the world to make it right.
Year: unknown, timeless
Suzette didn’t offer much in the way of commentary (although she did make a helpful suggestion about how to improve the speed of this site), and I can’t help but wonder if that’s because so little need be said?
They’re so happy and smiley and…shiny. And slippery. Can you imagine if these two tried to hug? They’d slip right off each other and onto the ground and then everyone would be talking about that one graduation with the unfortunate satin accident.
I don’t know which I prefer more: Suzette’s bow or Suzette’s smile. Together, they are magic. MAGIC.
You can tell that the young man by her side is very relieved to be out of this school. His entire expression says: This? Is dumb.
Probably the best part of the photo, though, is that it captured those two women on the right. They BOTH have frosted, permed hair fashioned into high-headed mullet do’s. Which is AMAZING on its own, but that matching denim outfit with pegged jeans and giant white socks takes us into a new dimension of awesome. Add the woman trying to get something unstuck from her teeth and you have one downright Promtacular photo right there.