It’s school formal season in Sydney and it’s sent me on a nostalgia trip about mine. But I’m struggling to remember who I was back then, let alone what I did.
I know I was determined to be different. I wanted to make a statement with my outfit. I wanted to look HOT.
I didn’t look hot at school – I was the nerdy redhead with droopy Farrah Fawcett flicks 10 years after they’d gone out of fashion. But my school formal was a chance to prove everyone wrong … preferably not in a Carrie kind of way.
I trawled my local mall in search of the perfect dress. The in-vogue look was electric blue or green taffeta frocks with puffy sleeves. (Thank you Princess Di.) I wanted none of that. I chose a fitted Mr K two-piece evening suit – glittery black lace jacket and pencil skirt. My mum was … dubious … was I sure? Yes, I was sure.
The night of the formal, I slipped into sheer black stockings, suede court shoes and my new ensemble. I piled my spiral perm to one size and cemented it in place with half a can of Final Net. I applied a generous amount of lipstick, frosted eyeshadow and blusher.
I was buzzing with excitement when Dad dropped me off at the Town Hall steps – I thought I looked hot. I suspect some of the male teachers did too, their eyes widened just a fraction when I walked into the room. But then, a few of them did have form in that area. Affairs between year 12 girls and teachers didn’t seem quite so frowned upon back then.
Oddly enough, I haven’t the slightest recollection of what my classmates thought of me or my dress. You’d think when it had mattered so much, something would have stuck. But no, it’s a blank.
Formals in the ’80s weren’t the glitzy productions they are now. You didn’t take a date – unless you happened to be going with someone in your year. It was just dinner at the Town Hall and a few speeches … pretty dull. Afterwards, everyone walked to the local nightclub, Fanny’s, to get the party started. Yep, it really was called Fanny’s. Still is, in fact. The carpet was so beer-soaked, your shoes would stick to it. That bit probably hasn’t changed either.
I thrashed around on the dancefloor with my friends to Addicted To Love, Venus, Wang Chung … at least, that’s what the Billboard charts from 1986 tell me. And I probably breathed a huge sigh of relief that high school was finally over. I know I swore to myself I’d never study again. (And I kept that promise, aside from a few misspent Alliance Francais courses.)
I don’t remember much else about my formal night. I wasn’t 18 yet, so it can’t have been because of alcohol. Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it …
That was my year 12 formal. Tell me about yours …
housegoeshome 
I was in pink taffeta with puffy sleeves (Princess Di – my fashion icon). Not a limo in sight (I don’t think you could even hire one in Mudgee in 1985). No dates (thank god). Pretty similar to yours, at the local hall, we were “introduced” to our teachers, parents and Year 11, some speeches, a bit of dancing and then off to the afterparty, I think at the footy club. Much simpler times.
No limos for us either. I’d like to see a pic of yours too
By yours, I mean your dress, not your imaginary limo …
I was in electric blue taffeta with puffy sleeves and some kind of huge bow at the back – 1987, so thank you Fergie. I’d had my hair ‘done’ that afternoon at the hairdresser but hated my French roll so much I undid it before I got to the formal – which was in our school assembly hall with a marquee attached to the side! We were expected to bring dates (which I found a huge pressure since I went to an all girls’ school and didn’t know a single boy). A classmate set me up on a blind date – awkward! Though he did present me with a bunch of red roses so I felt a bit like a Perfect Match contestant! It would have been just like a John Hughes movie if things had worked out with the date. But I never saw him again!
Ah, John Hughes movies, how I loved them. Real life never did match them though.
In Tassie, we leave high school in grade ten, so it’s my grade ten “leaver’s dinner” (as they’re called here) that I remember. I did stand out at mine, but not intentionally! I found a beautiful (and cheap) long blue floral dress at Myer and had my hair styled into 1940s waves. I wore dark lipstick and nail polish to complete the look. But this was the late nineties and the fashion was for plain, dark sheaths and ringletty-updos (see Ten Things I Hate About Me for what EVERYONE at my leaver’s dinner was wearing). I stood out like a sore thumb in all the photos and at the time I was mortified … but now I love it!!!
What do Taswegians call year 12 then? Post a photo of the dress! Go on, it sounds amazing.
My graduation was at Orange High in 1984 and I was the ONLY person who went to Sydney to find a dress. Judging from the photo I must have been to the hairdresser as well. Probably very different now. No limos, no flowers, only 1 photo. It was a very dull affair at the Ex-Services club with no alcohol even for the parents. I remember one of my friends saying: “All dressed up with no where to go.”
Your PARENTS went to your formal?
The last formal I attended was in Year 10 – and I was totally an electric blue, puffy sleeved, water wave taffeta princess! I protested against my Year 12 formal by not attending because I wasn’t allowed to bring my non-school-boyfriend as my date. I’m not sure the system was rocked to its core by my absence. No regrets really though – one less badly dressed photo for the collection!
Ah, but just think of the blogging material you’re missing out on Ms Charming!