'Ball season' is upon us -- courted by all who like dressing up, consuming vast amounts of punch and champagne, going on a helter skelter in Ralph Lauren gowns, competing with tutors on dodgems, eating live worms with a friend, wading ankle-deep in mud, having a stare-off with someone in the same dress (sorry, usually a single gender phenomenon), losing your friends and having fun anyway, getting with over three people in one night, streaking at sunrise, food fights, dancing on tables, ABBA tributes, going into the bathroom with someone and being offered their secret stash of cocaine, climbing on stage riggers above a moshing crowd, stripping entirely on stage whilst singing with a band, and fireworks.
The things listed above have all been experienced either first or second-hand by me, and I'll leave it up to you to guess where I've been the partaker and where the observer. One secret paradox, perhaps, is worth unveiling: I don't drink, but I did streak at sunrise.
With such a cornucopia of delights comes an online ubercornucopia of outfit choices. Here, again, my approach is paradoxical -- I hate worrying about my dress, I detest the fuss of make-up and hair, find pineapple-and-washing-up-liquid-smelling perfumes (all perfumes) simply unbearable -- Dina's an anti-Cinderella through and through. Also, more to the point, what's it all for? Unless you want to stand all night in the corner (plz share with me your ways of having subtle fun, if so), you will get scruffy, so it's always best to choose something you can forget about as soon as it's put on. The dress I'm wearing, with big thanks to Jacques Vert, is a solid all-rounder when it comes to this. Black = no stains, synthetic material = an avoidance of mine, but much easier to clean, a pretty great built-in brassiere... All this made dressing up a pleasure rather than a chore, and maybe for once it was nice to dump the old label of 'dowdy Deens'.
Lace top maxi dress, c/o Jacques Vert