Not Auntie SparkNotes: Cotillion Conundrum

Hello, oh most esteemed Auntie SparkNotes (cue fanfare),

I've been reading all the SparkLife prom guides I could find, and they all seem to be very helpful. But not for me. You see, I'm a freshman at a rather abnormal high school. So abnormal, in fact, that we don't even have a prom. We have Cotillion. Cotillion is pretty much an etiquette class—which fork to use, how to take a coat and so forth—that results in a formal ball (that we're GRADED on) which has apparently earned the name of "Prissy Prom." Like I said, I'm just a freshman, and I know nothing about these things. I have a boyfriend, but I heard a rumor that we aren't allowed to have dates... but we're expected to dance... er... WALTZ!! We're also expected to have "tea-length" dresses or lower, whatever that means, and to know how to open doors and stuff like that (since I'm not sure about the dates thing and I'm a tall girl, I might be called to escort). It's all just so confusing. And since you are so amazing and know absolutely everything, I'd love a bit of advice (and I PROMISE an update if you help me!).

Dear Letter Writer,

Auntie is in the bathroom, and Jono is sick with a 72-hour case of the Mondays, so you get me: Cousin Kathryn! Lucky for you I'm a GRIT (girl raised in the South), so I speak fluent Cotillionese. Now, your cotillion sounds a little bit like my cotillion and a debutante ball combined. In my hometown, cotillion was for middle schoolers to learn how to dance, and also how to touch each other without causing a clean up on aisle four, and the debutante ball was for 21-year-old girls (used to be 18—thank you, drinking age) to be "presented to society" (woof). Yours truly participated in the former and forewent the latter in favor of spending a semester abroad in Greece and Italy (suckahs!).

But enough about me. You, Sparkler, have found yourself thrust into a parallel universe of shrimp forks and curtsies. (Where they get off grading you on this, I'm perplexed. Let's hope there's an A for effort.) First off, it sounds like you are basing your fears on a lot of conjecture and rumor. Can you ask around at your school to see what really goes down at this thing? Surely there are some upperclassmen, or at least teachers, who can walk you through it. I can't imagine how you would waltz (cheat sheet here—it's a fancy name for stepping in a square) without a date, but it is possible that they discourage you from picking your boyfriend as your escort, as the image of your ex in an ill-fitting tux can haunt your photos and your memories for years to come. Let's just say, they are encouraging you to take the long view. It's something to consider (and why many of my friends were escorted by brothers, cousins, or friends.) Picking a cotillion escort is harder than picking a prom date, because your family will likely be there, and your mom will want to blow up lifesize cardboard cutouts frame and display the pictures.

While the idea of etiquette classes does sound ridiculously antiquated, you may learn some valuable Life Skillz (i.e., which fork to use, how to take a coat). Knowing how to write an appropriate thank-you note is essential once you get into the job-searching world. And there are few things sexier than a guy who opens doors and stands in your presence.

You may even find yourself *gasp*gurgle*choke* having fun at the Prissy Prom. Don't worry—this does not mean you need to start wearing hoop skirts and saying things like "that's mighty kind of you." It just means you're enjoying a new experience in all its frivolity. Or you can choose to look at it as an anthropological study. You're like Margaret Mead going into Samoa, only the Samoans are wearing tea-length dresses (it means hitting below the knee or mid-calf—think Mad Men).

If you truly have a problem participating due to strongly-held political, social, or religious beliefs (and there are people who object to the cotillion/debutante ball on such grounds—it doesn't exactly come from a liberal tradition), write the organizers of the cotillion a letter explaining these and ask to respectfully sit this one out. If they practice what they preach (graciousness and manners), they will honor your request.

But my advice: Try to relax and enjoy the anachronistic ride. At the very least, you may get a book out of it.

Elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist, wrist,

Cuz

Can any of you Sparklers do the Texas Dip and offer our letter-writer some cotillion advice?

Related post: Cotillion, Demystified