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Spring Dance

For spring, Valentino has done some gorgeous party dresses. There’s a navy chiffon short number with embroidered flowers and a full skirt, some beautiful fitted lace sheaths in exquisite colors. Sweet feminine fluff that would never allow for wall hugging at a spring dance and I do love a nice spring dance. There are many on film that enchant me with their voile dresses, tuxedo-ed dance partners, strains of orchestra music.
My first spring dance was a bit of a trial though. It was 8th grade and I wanted to wear a hip dress like the polka dot one above. Mini-skirts and fanciful dresses were everywhere, as well as bright happy colors, patterned tights, and square toed patent leather shoes. But my grandmother was still making all my special occasion dresses and she created a lovely simple white pique dress with a baby blue satin sash around its empire waist.  The sash ended in the back with a big floppy bow. I didn’t love my dress.

The school gym was hot and crammed with fellow classmates. I spent the evening hugging the wall, hoping I wouldn’t be asked to dance and hoping I would. I cannot recall if I took a spin on the dance floor or not – mostly likely if I did, it was with a pal. I do remember studying all the fashions that were swinging and twisting across the dance floor before me though. The striped dresses with chain belts, the lace blouses tucked into dirndl skirts, even a few pairs of white go-go boots. The girls, I noticed, looked like they were models right out of the latest Seventeen magazine tossed on the floor beside my bed. I could see the Yardley Slicker-ed lips, the frosted eye shadows, I even think I detected Wind Song, most likely pilfered from an older sister’s dresser. As I stood observing, I made a plan to ask my grandmother for more upbeat clothes in the future and knowing how she loved me, a trickle of guilt infused my fashion reverie.

It’s funny, I had dinner recently with an old school friend I haven’t seen in over 30 years. We both recall being at that same dance and yet we never noticed each other. He spent the night up against a massive throbbing speaker grooving to “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida”, a song I abhorred. His primary memory is that he walked home completely deaf in one ear. Our recollections made us laugh, my first experience as a wall flower and my determination for more exciting clothes, his favorite song and his muffled toddle home.

The next morning, my friend telephoned to say he enjoyed my company. “I couldn’t stop thinking about something though”, he said. And then..softly, “The white dress with the blue satin sash. It kept me awake”.

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Great spring dance scenes can be found in these films:
Mrs. Miniver, American President, Houseboat, Since You Went Away, To Sir with Love

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