Jennifer Medina of the New York Times has a interesting little piece, datelined Green Bay, about something called “adult prom” that’s been floating in and out of my Twitter feed all day. Sounds nice enough, if a bit of an overelaborate (for me) reason to get gussied up.
These are not reunions of former high school classmates eager to relive the prom night they had together. A vast majority of revelers are in their 20s and 30s, although a few are in their early 60s and are simply excited at the prospect of getting decked out and dancing — and voting for the night’s king and queen.
It’s a cute by-the-numbers trend story, though I’m not entirely convinced it’s a trend (the Green Bay prom was sparsely attended). Shrug, right? Wrong. Midwesterners, always check with snide New Yorkers before partying:
From Fort Wayne to Cedar Rapids, the people who never escaped from their hometown’s black hole are finally “escaping” for an enchanting evening of legal booze and dancing with their husband, who is wearing the same Men’s Wearhouse suit he wears to church. It’s just… great.
I guess Men’s Wearhouse hasn’t reached PBR status yet. I’m going to have to hold onto that suit forever before it gets cool.
Because you like your kids, I mean, you love them, of course, as well as the part-time job at the Dress Barn, and hubby Rick is really the apple of your eye….
Sure, making fun of Iowa is pretty stale—maybe it still kills in New York?—but at least the underemployment joke is au courant.
Whenever I go to New York, the aging kids are always complaining about the folks coursing in from the cow towns. I guess Gawker is like cultural population control? It’s worked for me, at least.
Photograph: Marjorie Collins / FSA-OWI via Library of Congress
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