It was 1986. We all did it.
Dec. 18th, 2010 09:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgOr possibly 1987. It seemed important at the time; just a little thing, the difference between Year 11 and Year 12. I'm the one on the right, with the most hair. I'm either 15 1/2 or 16 1/2. I suspect the latter, although I'm torn because I think that was the year that my date Malcolm (sourced independently from ballroom dancing I might add, so worth 10 mere boy classmates) went home with my friend (hmmm) Sandrine (not pictured). That does it, it was 1996 (oops) 1986.
Unfortunately that well-drilled-school-photo-clenched-arm pose doesn't allow my ball dress to feature in all its glory, but believe me when I say those were genuine gold lamé ruffles. Also faintly visible are the elastic bands holding my strapless court shoes secure for dancing purposes. If memory serves, those fetchingly uneven gloves and the barely visible jewellry were hired from Memory Lane. The hair was done properly by a proper hairdresser. Some of it may have snapped off in the course of the evening.
To protect the relatively innocent I'll reveal only that the other two in the photo are Drew and Barbara.
I eventually forgave Malcolm for his insensitivity, for we weren't actually a couple per se (I just wanted to DANCE damnit!) and by golly Sandrine looked hot that night. Let's just say the the school uniform did a good job of hiding a SPECTACULAR hourglass figure that was shown off to perfection that night by a really good dress. They both asked my permission and got me home safely before rushing off to pash*, so I was miffed but not devastated.
OK, pretty miffed.
I did later go out with Malcolm's friend Roger for a while. He wasn't half the dancer but he had a car and a job (he was a printer's apprentice, and a member of the army reserve), was older by maybe 18 months, and showed more interest in kissing me. Poor lad, I think I broke his heart, but he just didn't have the brains or the sense of humour to keep up with me in the end. His parents were sad too.
See? I was practically normal once.
(*) Currently known as snogging.
Unfortunately that well-drilled-school-photo-clenched-arm pose doesn't allow my ball dress to feature in all its glory, but believe me when I say those were genuine gold lamé ruffles. Also faintly visible are the elastic bands holding my strapless court shoes secure for dancing purposes. If memory serves, those fetchingly uneven gloves and the barely visible jewellry were hired from Memory Lane. The hair was done properly by a proper hairdresser. Some of it may have snapped off in the course of the evening.
To protect the relatively innocent I'll reveal only that the other two in the photo are Drew and Barbara.
I eventually forgave Malcolm for his insensitivity, for we weren't actually a couple per se (I just wanted to DANCE damnit!) and by golly Sandrine looked hot that night. Let's just say the the school uniform did a good job of hiding a SPECTACULAR hourglass figure that was shown off to perfection that night by a really good dress. They both asked my permission and got me home safely before rushing off to pash*, so I was miffed but not devastated.
OK, pretty miffed.
I did later go out with Malcolm's friend Roger for a while. He wasn't half the dancer but he had a car and a job (he was a printer's apprentice, and a member of the army reserve), was older by maybe 18 months, and showed more interest in kissing me. Poor lad, I think I broke his heart, but he just didn't have the brains or the sense of humour to keep up with me in the end. His parents were sad too.
See? I was practically normal once.
(*) Currently known as snogging.
