drunk-girls

August 18, 2015

The Season of Gradzilla

Now that the CAO has made its first-round offers, the time has come for Leaving Cert graduates to focus on the truly important decisions…like what to wear for grad night.

There’s nothing worse than finding your perfect dress for €520 and realising your budget for dress, shoes, and bag is €200. Frugality is a virtue I have gained since then but at the time, Mama Bear, I thought you the greatest monster for not buying that extravagant Grecian frock from Brown Thomas.

Nowadays, girls are channelling the red carpet with their Hollywood inspired gowns. This glamour revolution seems to have happened overnight because it was only a mere few years ago that we were rocking spaghetti straps, two pieces, shawls and an abundance of diamanté. We thought we were Swarovski but we were really Glitzi Bitz.

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Having been communed and confirmed, the debutante night is the last excuse (before wedding) to be a big princess, and these innocent precursor events have also witnessed a revamp in recent years. For my first Holy Communion, I was handed down my cousin’s dress, which would be passed on to my sister in an Irish rite of passage. I was even allowed to wear a slick of lip gloss, imagine. Nowadays, eight year olds are decked out in acrylic nails, fake tan and a full face of make-up. Whatever happened to simplicity? I got a matching white vest and underwear set and I was delighted with my life. I hear talk of others getting a Communion bra. A bra! Sure what would you be putting in it?

The Confirmation outfit is trickier fare. My own ensemble was purchased in Sasha when it became abundantly clear that children’s pants would not fit my steadily growing derrière. The follies of youth. I believe that we should have been issued a dress code, like we are for the Communion. Without proper guidance against fashion crimes, we all end up with an awkward photograph next to the bishop, looking like an absolute pillock. Corduroy and baker boy hats are never forgiven.

I look at today’s kids working an outfit I’d gladly wear on a night out and I’m wondering where the blue eyeshadow and the butterfly hairclips are? The denim on denim ensemble? Why aren’t you looking shite? Pay your dues!

Anyway, debutantes, my point is that such disasters come with the territory; don’t strive too hard for perfection. By the end of the night, you’ll have spilt gravy on your dress, drank Mickey Finn’s in a toilet cubicle and revealed yourself to the dancefloor in an attempt to pull off a Dirty Dancing move. No? Just me?