As the time that Sally’s guests were due to arrive approached, I became increasingly nervous. I know that I feel nice but fear that I look ridiculous… and with three girls from my school coming, there’s a very strong chance that by Monday, my entire year will know that I wore a dress on my birthday. I’ve been toying with a variety of excuses such as losing a bet or doing it for a dare, but I guess I’m best just telling the truth: last year I wanted a paint-ball party and this year is my sister’s turn to choose. Problem is, I can’t see any of my classmates saying “Oh, fair enough. I’d have done the same.” My other worry is that the whole truth might slip out: I didn’t want to wear a dress but but when I did, it felt really nice.
Mollie arrives first with her dress in a big bag. She is herded directly to Sally’s room to change. The others arrive not long after and are similarly herded directly upstairs. I’m confined to the kitchen and dining room helping Mum prepare the buffet trays. “You’ve taken to those shoes like a duck to water.” Mum commented as I grab a stack of plates from one of the high cupboards.
“Well I have spent all week practising.” I said as I looked down at my feet. “I quite like being a little bit taller.” I added.
“So you like them then?”
“Hmm… kind of.” I replied. “I’d prefer them if they weren’t pink… but I guess they go with my dress.”
“Well that’s the idea.” Mum smiled. “Everything matching.” she says before casting me a lingering smile. “Don’t tell Sally but I think you look nicer in a dress than she does.”
“No I don’t.” I coyly insisted. “It does feel nice though… I can see why Sally likes wearing them.” I added before wondering why the majority of girls don’t.
Mum explained what I already knew; women wore dresses, heels and make-up when they were seen as inferior to men and now there’s more equality, there’s simply no longer a need for women to prettify themselves… in fact it’s largely frowned upon which is why my sister gets bullied and teased. “Yeah I know but… maybe if more of them did, they’d realise how nice it is.”
“The same can be said for boys.” Mum replied. “Girl’s wearing dresses is largely a thing of the past… maybe it will be the boys who’ll be wearing the dresses in the future?” she suggested. I couldn’t see it but Mum reminded me that my dress is a boy’s dress that came from a shop full of pretty clothes for boys. It’s a vision of the future that’s too far fetched to imagine… but who knows? On the one hand I can’t see many boys willingly wearing a dress… but on the other, that’s exactly what I’m doing. All of a sudden, Mum realised that she’d forgot my lipstick. She popped upstairs the fetch it and returned a moment later.
“It’s the same as my dress.” I said when she revealed the shade.
“It is.” Mum smiled. “Now you’ve got to remember not to smear it…” she explained as she applied it for me. “…so no rubbing your mouth or you’ll ruin it.”
“OK.” I replied. I wanted to see how it looked but… there’s no mirror in the kitchen. With all the excitement of getting ready, I’d clean forgotten about my new camera. I grabbed it and asked Mum if she’d take a photograph, just so I could see myself. “Do I look pretty?” I asked.
“Very.” Mum grinned. She placed her hand on my puffed sleeve and thumbed my lace trimmed collar. “When I was little girl I’d have loved to wear a dress like this.”
“Didn’t you?”
Mum explained that dresses tended to be plain and functional rather than pretty and prissy. Only brides and bridesmaids and flower girls got the wear really nice frocks. Of course there were ‘girlie’ girls like Sally and fanatics of the Lolita and kawaii fad, but they were few in number. Like today, most girls and most grown women simply preferred trousers. The tide was turning even then. She also explained that when she was a girl, guests to a birthday party were expected to bring a gift and a greeting card. I’d never heard of a greeting card so mum explained the concept. So long as I’ve been alive, only parents buy birthday gifts… not friends or cousins or even siblings… and as for the greeting card tradition; “It sounds like an awful waste of paper.” I claimed.
“Which is precisely why we no longer have them.” Mum replied. “We also used to have paper party plates.” she claimed. They used to buy disposable plates to use once and throw away… surely she’s winding me up? “Paper cups too.” Mum claimed. “We were a very wasteful society when I was young. It’s not like today.” she said. The impromptu history lesson was interesting. Sometimes the past is the strangest place.
Meanwhile, Sally, Mollie, Kirsten, Sarah and Melanie are busy getting ready upstairs. I can hear their muffled shrieks and giggles echoing down the stairwell, and before long, their approaching footsteps. I become increasingly nervous as I hear Sally telling them to stay in the dining room. She pops her head around the kitchen door and beckons me. I glance at my mother who gives me a reassuring smile before looking down at myself and stepping forward. Sally grabs my hand and leads me into the dining room where I’m greeted with an audible gasp… followed by a long silence.
The Silence probably only lasted for a second or two… but it felt like minutes. A deep sense of shame flooded through me as my sister’s four guests just looked and looked at me. This is the moment I’d been dreading. The moment of ridicule that will spill into tomorrow and the days after that. I know what I look like and for a fourteen year old boy, it’s certainly a sight to behold. With that thought I cast my eyes over their outfits; the pinks, the prints, the bows and frills from head to toe. Not many girls dress ‘girlie’ these days and Kirsten and Melanie look just as out-of-place as I do. I smirk. Melanie smirks. Mollie chuckles but quickly contains it, then Sarah bursts out laughing and that sets us all off. It becomes infectious and we cant contain ourselves. We laugh so much it hurts.
Sally, Mollie and Sarah each wear prissy pink dresses with big Lolita bows perched on their heads. Their make up is heavy and peachy. Their footwear, like mine, is dainty. Kirsten wears a lilac dress because she really hates pink, although it’s got more than its fair share of pink details. Melanie, whom I’ve never seen in a skirt or frock, clearly shied away from the offer of a blue dress and instead wears the little pink dungarees with a pastel blue T-shirt, pastel blue tights and a pair of white baseball shoes with pink ribbons instead of normal laces. It’s clear that we all feel just as ridiculous as each other in our prissy girl clothes.
“Oh my god… look at his shoes!” Mollie exclaims. “You’re wearing heels!”
“Look at his hair!” Melanie yelped. “He’s got ringlets!” she giggled. “You look brilliant!” she claimed.
“You all look brilliant.” Mum said. She handed out some fizzy drinks and put some music on. It’s a golden oldie but highly appropriate; Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun. The party started giddy and thanks to Sally’s meticulous planning, she kept the momentum going with a well selected play-list of girlie songs and intermittent games. We all got in to character and willingly played along to musical statues, blind man’s buff and pin the ponytail on the princess. Sally presented prizes to the winners, all of which wear cheap and girlie; a plastic jewellery set, some crayons and a colouring book, a fluffy pink pencil case, etc.
Things quietened down a little whilst we tucked into the buffet. Mum’s cup-cakes went down especially well. I chatted with my cousin Mel and knowingly asked why cousin Simon (her brother) didn’t come. She grinned and said “He was too scared of wearing a dress.”
“So were you by the looks of things.” I smiled, before telling her how Sally and I were certain she’d rather wear a dress than the dungaree shorts she opted for. She told me that she’s a ‘modern’ girl and as such, refuses to wear dresses under any circumstances. “I’d rather wear a dress than those.” I said. “You look cute though.” I added, causing her to momentarily grimace.
“So do you.” she smiled. “I love your hair.”
“Really?” I coyly said, bobbing my head and causing my ringlets to bob and bounce around my ears.
“Yeah… its about time boys started making an effort to look pretty for us girls.” she claimed. “If you wasn’t my cousin I’d kiss you!”
“Eek!” I thought. “Well… thanks Mel…” I blushed. “…but I doubt I’ll be dressing like this again after today.”
“That’s a shame… but you never know, Sally might let you borrow it again.”
“Oh it’s not my dress Mel.” Sally interjected.
Melanie looked baffled. “Mum bought it for me.” I confessed.
“Then you’ll have to wear it again.” Melanie grinned.
“Oh I dunno.” I coyly replied. “What would my mates think?”
“You mean… when they see all the girls flocking around you?” Melanie quizzed.
I bashfully claimed otherwise which prompted the other girls to interject. According to them, the kawaii-boi style is becoming mainstream in Korea and Japan and all the girls love ’em. According to them, the trend is ‘all the rage’ in Australia and New Zealand. And according to Sarah, it’s only a matter of time before they’ll be selling dresses for boys in this country.
“They already do.” Sally stated. “Mum went all the way to Penton to buy him a proper boy’s dress.”
“Well there you go.” Sarah smugly smiled. “The future’s already here.”
“Well… actually…” I smugly retorted. “…it’s about fifty miles away, in Penton.” I grinned. They rolled their eyes and sighed at my lame attempt at pedantry. “I can’t see it catching on.” I claimed. I looked down at my prissy pink dress, my lacy white tights and pink heeled shoes with the dainty little ribbon on each ankle strap, before casting my gaze to the equally prissy outfits worn by the others. “I mean… it feels nice and I know it looks nice but… I can’t see ‘most’ boys dressing like this.”
Ever the wise one, Mum sauntered in and agreed that it’s hard to imagine such a world. She then suggested that it’s equally hard to imagine a world in which ‘most’ women and girls wore dresses, heels, and make-up on a daily basis, especially for young teenagers like us. “It was like that when my mother was a girl.” Mum stated. “Granny always used to say Sally was born fifty years too late.” she smiled. “I wonder what she’d say if she could see you now?” she said to me.
Granny passed away a few years ago and I remember her well. “I don’t understand these modern fashions… pants and pixie cuts… in my day girls were girls… you could tell the difference.” she used to rant. I wonder if she’d approve or not?
“Shall we have some cake?” Mum suggested.
Sally had meticulously planned the party and insisted on playing pass-the-parcel first. “Everybody sit in a circle… and leave a space for me.” she instructed. “Mum… you’re the DJ.”
