The Promise of The School Prom

As the last of the school proms take place for school and college leavers across the county, calling an end to this year’s academic toil, and heralding the start of a long, hot, lazy, summer for most, I was delighted to have witnessed one first hand, albeit from hotel balcony.

The occasion proved to be much more entertaining than anything on television that night, as I observed youngsters in their finest garb, arriving for the event that for many marks the final stage in their formal education.

It won’t be long, as they step out into the real world, that they learn, that just like taking driving lessons, it is only after you’ve been let loose that the real learning begins. University, the destination for most, is another ball game altogether.

The concept of a ‘prom’, short for the French word promenade, seems to have developed, in the UK at least, from the traditional presentation of debutantes, carefully selected young women of pedigree, to the Sovereign. This was the annual event intended to kick start the social season, in the hope of finding a suitable husband. It was of course before many young women of certain distinguished, often titled, families were given the opportunity, or enjoyed the expectation of, continuing their education in quite the same way that exists today. The practice of ‘coming out’ was abolished in 1958.

In my day, quite some time ago I admit, as far as I can recall we didn’t have ‘proms’. The best that might have been on offer would have been an end of term dance or disco of some sort; certainly not the posh sit down affairs in smart hotels and other exclusive venues that seem to be de rigeur nowadays.

The closest I’ve ever been to enjoying this type of function was my first husband’s ‘passing out’ parade, and the subsequent ball, at Dartmouth Naval College, to which I wore a hand crocheted full length white dress. I still have the photo somewhere. For me, one of the joys of involvement with the armed services is the splendour of the environment and the formality that underpins their social functions.    

The USA has for many years embraced the high school prom and keen to follow suit, we have now taken it by storm. If the young adults I saw are anything to go by this is now a firmly established rite of passage.

Not trusting enough to allow their offspring to drive themselves home in the wake of the alcohol consumption that was to follow, they were Chauffeur driven to the door by parents looking as proud as peacocks. Dads had clearly been given the brief to polish the Bentley, complete with personalised number plates, or the open top Porsche or Mercedes, to within an inch of their lives. Joined by a Buick and several vintage VW camper vans, their arrival made something of a spectacle.     

Mums, meanwhile, were standing in the wings, snapping away for all they were worth, eager to capture their little darlings to provide a permanent mark of their entry into adulthood.

 

Dressed up to the nines, there was the odd smattering of tiaras, but thankfully no tantrums, as they mingled in the entrance below where I was seated; they were alternately self-conscious, and bold with the forced bravado of those who were just ‘too cool’ to care. Most of the girls opted for long dresses, often strapless to show off tanned shoulders, and hair carefully coiffeured to give the tousled look, making it appear that they had not spent hours getting ready. Others went for short leg-revealing outfits, clearly demonstrating their readiness to dance the night away, despite the six inch killer heels. One of my favourite outfits was worn by a ‘goth’ girl, all in black, spiky hair, with panda eyes, and wearing a net skirt along with the Doc Maartens to complete outfit; she was clearly not the type to conform, and stood their amongst her class mates, with attitude and in defiant mood. The boys without birds gathered together looking like Danny Zuko and his coterie from Grease, except for being suited and booted; they behaved with a level of nonchalance designed to make it look as if they didn’t mind at all, when clearly they did. For those lucky enough to be in the first throws of teenage love, coupledom was shown by the boys bravely sporting ties to match their girlfriends’ outfits, and hair held firmly in place by an excess of gel.

After witnessing this spectacle, I spent the evening with one young girl, who having stylishly worn a red bow tie to her prom the week before, was still sporting it, every day, as a reminder of the occasion and its significance. For her, her class mates, and for me as a mere bystander, it clearly was an event to remember.