Part 76: I Bought a Prom Dress… again. May 29, 2013

In Bulgaria, prom is a party paid for and organized by the senior class AFTER they graduate.  They invite their teachers as a way of showing their appreciation.  I taught seniors; therefore I needed a prom dress.  Never thought I’d be saying that again. 

My Bulgarian tutor, LT, is well connected to the shopping world of Sofia, so she took me and my friend, MD (who was in search of a bridesmaid’s dress), out to find dresses one sunny Saturday.  After finding LT just outside the metro, we proceeded to a secret shop.  LT rung the bell and spoke to the person inside which got us buzzed in.  I’m not kidding.  You have to be in the know to get in that place and I suspect it will be the only time I’m included in such circles for the duration of my life. 

We began pulling dresses and trying them on.  I tried black ones and yellow ones (I was trying to stay away from blue), but none of them were really for me.  Eventually, we decided to move on to the next store where I found a short blue (I know, I know.  I just can’t help it.  I love blue.) very mod, very shiny, mini-dress by Prada, which I could actually afford.  I really liked it, so I got it. 

Fast forward a couple of weeks, and I’m getting arm cramps from braiding and curling my hair as I prepare to go to prom as a 27 year old adult person.  Prom was an interesting experience.  The fact that the seniors are graduated combined with the legal drinking age of 18 made the interactions that took place really unusual for me.  In the US, teachers are at prom to make sure things don’t get out of hand.  At this prom, we were there to have fun.  So kids you taught come up to you in various states of drunkenness wanting to toast your or just get a picture with you.  I also ended up judging a very scaring dance contest that ended with shirts being ripped off and a lot of gyrating.  AD and I were feeling very uncomfortable. 

At the end of the night, AD and I went to Sin City with IM for the after party.  I only went because IM said I needed to experience this club once before I left Bulgaria and the clock was ticking.  I generally remembered why I don’t like clubs.  The music was loud, it smelled like smoke (the smoking ban was not enforced), and, although interesting, the strobing, light up, moving ceiling was a little bit headache inducing.  Yeah, I didn’t stay long.  I will say that IM was right about it being an experience.  I’m just a little old lady on the inside and not nearly cool enough for things like that. 

I went home and spent the next day at school looking (and feeling) much better than my students who had also chosen to go out and party with the senior class the night before.