Event: Senior Ball
Sonia writes: “I think this picture is pretty self-explanatory.
The guy in the white tux’s name is Ben. Fortunately, my date (third from left) had the good sense to stick with the wingtip shoes. (For the record, we were trying to do a 1950′s theme. I had a white Marilyn Monroe dress.)”
There is absolutely zero way for me to make my feelings about Bieber-hair known without sounding old and crotchety. But. Well, right.
Can someone explain what’s happening in the hair department on the guy second from left? That’s…um…what?
I am down with the Converse, though. Of course, I prefer the wingtips, and actually think Sonia’s date is the most put-together and appropriate under the circumstances. Too bad he’s asleep.
As for Ben? Maybe he blended better at the actual event, but I hope he has this photo up in his dorm room anyway.
Event: Chorus Banquet (College) [ed note: AWESOME]
Big 80s hair? Check
TEAL? Double check! (Matching tie!)
And if I asked, “What state is her date from?” and you said, “Minnesota!” You’d be correct.
So, yeah. Being a) a “chorus girl” myself and b) of Minnesotan stock, this photo is near and dear to my heart. They look so cute and happy to be wearing their teal. And who can blame them? After the numerous FAKE stone walls we’ve seen on Promtacular!, it’s practically reassuring to see that, in some places, real stone walls actually existed. It’s as if they’re laughing at us: Hahahaha, you think we’d stand in front of a PAINTED stone wall? Dude, we’re going to a CHORUS BANQUET! This is the real deal, yo!
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.