The "promposals" of my day consisted of a guy muttering "Ya wanna go to the prom or somethin'?" and that was that. A few years ago, I heard a teen girl complaining that she broke up with her boyfriend because he "embarrassed her in front of her friends" by merely "inviting" her to the prom. No "will you go to the prom with me" spelled out in candles on her front yard, no plane flying by overhead pulling a banner, no message painted on the side of a hill. The utter horror! I don't know how the poor girl ever held her head up again.
I went to two proms in the 1960's. They were pretty big events, but affordable. The prom was held at a ballroom downtown. Most couples "double-dated" with another couple. Most everyone went out to eat afterward. If there were "after-prom parties" at the lake or somewhere, I didn't get invited to one or even hear of them. I had a steady boyfriend each year, so I don't think there was even any "asking" to go. It was just assumed. Boyfriend = prom date. You just had to let him know what color your dress was so that he could get the right color corsage.
My mother made both of my dresses. They were modest long dresses, worn with elbow-length white gloves. The guys wore white dinner jackets from the local discount tux rental shop. Wrist corsages were the thing back then, usually heavy on the carnations, but sometimes you got roses or...gasp...orchids. Most dresses were modest, strapless being about the most daring anyone got. There were no spangled, sequin-y, cut-down-to-here or up-to-there hoochie-mama dresses to be seen. Anybody showing up dressed like that would have probably been told to put on a sweater or go home.
Guys had to come into the girl's living room for the ceremonial pinning on of the flowers, the photos taken by the proud mother and the ritual glowering-at-the date by Dad. Then quite often, this had to be repeated at his house.
I'd get a "French-twist" done at the local beauty school, where you could get the thing done for $2 if you were adventurous enough to trust whatever student you got (only $1 if you washed your own hair at home and came in with it in curlers for a comb-out).
Of course, after spending that extravagant sum of money on hair, you had to make the "do" last for a few days, so that involved wrapping your head in toilet paper and sleeping gingerly. There was enough hairspray on your head to withstand the direct hit of a nuclear bomb. By the third or day, your head was itching like mad and looked like some burrowing animal had been nesting in it.....but dammit, that thing cost TWO DOLLARS and you were going to get your money's worth!
The wilting corsages were worn to school on Monday so that you could flaunt them at the unfortunate souls that didn't go. That and the dented french twist or beehive were considered badges of honor.
I still get almost teary-eyed at the smell of carnations (not that carnations have much smell these days) because that smell brings up proms, dances, weddings, special occasions....always happy...
Turned out to be just right for me. I went to prom with self-confident nice guy who bought me a corsage. First mistake he made was to chuckle and respond to my laughingly, happily bringing up how my grown puffed up on our drive to the school's gymnasium was, "Yeah, my last date's gown puffed up like that too." And my joy was deflated. Second BIGGER mistake he made, he refused to dance at the prom. I hear music and I immediately desire, very strongly, to dance. Nothing, boring prom.
