꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ || why the #$@% would i want to be sober in front of a group of teenagers??!

high school dances like homecoming and prom are supposed to be milestones.

in reality?

gymnasiums, fluorescent lights, chaperones, and teenagers glued to their phones are not milestones — they’re a form of surveillance.

and honestly — why would i want to be sober in front of a group of teenagers?

i’ve always dressed for myself, not for approval. low-rise pants, tank tops, retro 2000s vibes — that’s my energy, my armor, my signature.

being forced into a skimpy, ill-fitting dress would have felt like something straight out of a utena tenjou moment: stripped of agency, put in a role i never auditioned for. 

if i’m going to dress up, i’m not doing it halfway. i better look like elizabeth taylor, claudette colbert, or a young coco chanel — sculpted, tailored, iconic. if it’s not going to be that moment, why even bother?

so yes, i skipped prom. and no, i don’t regret it. glamour isn’t about following a checklist or appeasing fluorescent lights; it’s about creating your moment.

my tailored “new dior-inspired” dress sits quietly in my closet, waiting for occasions worthy of the effort: nights out with friends, curated photo archives, weddings, vintage-themed occasions… and yes, the club.

the club is where the magic happens. loud music, tipsy chaos, neon lights, and me fully owning bimbo hottie energy — the kind that would make a 50s film star raise an eyebrow. we’ll take wild photos on retro phones, archive them, maybe even show my future spouse someday — who will undoubtedly be like: “???!!!!” (when they see the chaos and glamour colliding perfectly).

and yes — until i reach a new life stage, like becoming a mom or stepping into another symbolically mature moment — i’ll mostly avoid longer, formal dresses. the day i choose to wear more dresses post-mom will be my way of saying: i’ve grown as a lady by choice.

it won’t be about obligation or expectation — it will be a deliberate celebration of maturity, intention, and evolution from my carefree, rebellious younger self.

plus, let’s be real: post-mom, jeans and tight pants might hurt my pelvic floor — dresses will actually be a comfort choice as much as a style one.

that said, whether or not i become a mom, chances are you still won’t see me wearing many dresses.

i love my laidback, retro, low-rise clothes too much — they’re the armor i’ve built to move freely, feel confident, and be fully myself.

if i somehow end up childless — fine.

i’ll just keep rocking loose, worn-in jeans, trucker caps, and weekend comfort fits like a low-key dad, tech-geek style.

dresses will always be intentional, reserved for moments that actually deserve them. and here’s the ultimate rule: if you somehow see me in 10–to-15 years wearing a dress, chances are i’ve got a ring on my finger and tied the knot.

otherwise? not happening. glamour isn’t casual.

it’s purposeful & deliberate.

and it’s mine to decide when, where, and why.

i skipped prom not because i reject femininity, glam, or fun — but because those things demand intentionality, tailoring, and agency. i’ll dress up when it matters. i’ll be messy when i choose. i’ll archive chaos for my own enjoyment. i’ll create the vintage moment every single time.

because the truth is simple:
glamour isn’t just clothes — it’s power, choice, context, and making sure every inch of you is worth the attention you actually want.

and no lame, organized high school event can ever give me that.