Showing posts with label i feel pretty oh so pretty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label i feel pretty oh so pretty. Show all posts

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Slice of Lime-Prom

It's that time of year when girls primp and boys strangle themselves with ties and corsage/boutonniere sales skyrocket. It's prom season. We shall commence with the old pictures and move through time to present day. Here we have young Lime when she was a junior in high school and asked to attend this young man's prom. Finances being what they were, she borrowed a frothy pink confection from a friend. It was the mid 80s after all, when froth was at its height. Please take note that Young Lime;'s hair was not at its height as she resisted baptism into the Church of Aquanet. Upon seeing this and other pictures her father could only comment on the proliferation of upper lip whiskers possessed by "the date" in spite of said date's tender age. Lime's cousin, who was an exchange student to Spain and who had found herself a Spanish boyfriend, told Young Lime half of this picture was being carried around by her Spanish boyfriend's best pal who wanted to be able to tell folks he had an American girlfriend like his amigo. I wonder if he was a better dancer than my date?


The following year I was a senior and it was time for my own prom. Mother Lime told me since I had been so thrifty the previous year she'd make me the prom gown of my choosing for my own prom. I was very grateful. Here she is hard at work on my gown.


And here is the finished product. Yes, it was the 80s so it was still covered in lace, but it lacked froth and it wasn't pink. It was a simple, strapless tea length with an A-line skirt. I was quite pleased with the work Mother Lime had done. Pity I had such rotten posture.
It is interesting to note that though my date this year was....erm...considerably older than the previous year's date, the younger guy had a better 'stache. In the words of Forest Gump, "That's all I have to say about that." Let's skip ahead shall we?


Now we come to my own Limelette and her prom. Two years ago she and her sister found my old blue prom gown and wanted to try it on. It fit them like a glove and they declared, "We never knew you were as skinny as us!" I resisted the urge to smack them and extended grace when they asked if they could wear it to their respective proms by granting permission to do so. Flash forward to earlier this year when Diana pulled it from the closet once again and discovered she could no longer wedge herself into the tiny garment. She asked Mother Lime if she'd be willing to sew her dress. If you recall, Mother Lime agreed most delightedly and a pattern and fabric were selected. Here is an early mock up made from bed sheets.

Mother Lime worked diligently and produced a fine garment. Since I bought the pattern and fabric she said she wanted to pay for the hairdresser. Last Friday Prom day arrived so we all piled in to the salon as Diana had her hair piled up. Just for a point of reference I offer a "before" picture.


After about an hour here is a midstage picture. Quite the mass of curls, no?


Finally, after another hour, 2 rubber bands, 58 bobby pins, and a gallon of hairspray, we have the completed work. We were all quite pleased even if Diana said her hair felt somewhat helmet like. It was at this point I reminded her of the advice she gave me when she was but 8 years old and I complained about something I had to endure for a semi formal occasion, "It's fashion. It has to hurt."

After a quick bite for lunch and some time primping at home we have the grand unveiling along with the seamstress.

The full effect.

The date, with nary a trace of fuzz upon his upper lip.


"The look," which has defined this child's expression for much of her life. "Would you take the last picture already so I can just get on with it???" There are those who have suggested this look is a perfect derivative of someone else they know. I can't imagine who they might mean.



Just a little closeup I thought was nice. I am happy to report, a good time was had by all.