Life

Lynette Fay: My niece's formal experience was a far cry from my own

The idea of the school formal had me breaking out in cold sweats. In hindsight, had I been given the choice, I would not have gone at all and saved myself the stress, embarrassment and a lot of money in the process

Lynette Fay

Lynette Fay

Lynette is an award winning presenter and producer, working in television and radio. Hailing from Dungannon, Co Tyrone, she is a weekly columnist with The Irish News.

Lynette Fay – my Formal tan won an award
Lynette Fay – my Formal tan won an award Lynette Fay – my Formal tan won an award

LAST Thursday evening, my parent’s house was buzzing. We had finger food, a red carpet, friends and family gathered together and a glass or two of bubbles.

The occasion? My niece, the eldest grandchild, was going to her formal.

I can assure you that this scene is a far cry from the experience in the same house when it was my turn.

The initial weeks of Year 14, or Upper Sixth as I knew it, were filled with excitement and trepidation. University open days, UCAS forms, decisions about the future and, for me, the most stressful of them all… THE FORMAL.

The idea of the school formal had me breaking out in cold sweats. In hindsight, had I been given the choice, I would not have gone at all and saved myself the stress, embarrassment and a lot of money in the process.

As a teenager, I was not into make-up, hair, clothes or boys. So, for me, the school formal was like stepping into the unknown.

The rest of my friends were discussing dresses, hairstyles and who they would take to the formal for months on end. As they all know, these conversations bored me to tears.

The first step of the process for me was the dress. I put my poor mother through hell looking for that dress. At 17, I was not comfortable with my shape. Come to think of it, I don’t think that I am 23 years later – but I suppose that I am a little more accepting of it.

Why do we try to squeeze into dresses and clothes that are trendy and in fashion, regardless whether or not the cut of the garment suits our shape?

In the end, I went with a classic black dress. My friends were much braver than I. In hindsight, the dress choice wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

My hair and make-up, on the other hand, were a different story altogether. First came the tanning. Yes, tanning for the formal was essential even back in 1995. Perhaps I was ahead of my time?!

My skin is milk-bottle white with freckles and rarely sees the sun. So began ‘operation tan Lynette for the formal’. As I remember it, my Mummy and Auntie both attacked with me tanning mitts.

I woke up the next morning – tangoed. I joked that I had been on an overnight trip to Barbados. I wished.

I can’t remember much about the make-up. I barely knew how to use mascara, never mind contour or highlighters. Did they exist back then?

Thank goodness very few of us bothered to take a camera with us. There is one official photo in existence which one of the girls posted on social media a while back. The embarrassment was felt by us all.

I imagine that every second of a formal nowadays is documented on social media, whether warranted or not.

Last of all for me on the formal preparation list was the fella. I still cringe when I think about this. In the world before mobile phones, waiting until you had a free run at the house phone – which in our case was in the kitchen – to make the phone call was essential. During each second of the call, you were dying inside. Well, I was.

My niece has been much cooler on this particular part of the process. I salute her.

All I’ll say about my formal date is that he arrived to our house with flowers and a McDonalds happy meal box. I was so uptight I failed to see the funny side of this. Looking back, it was a funny thing to do. Well played.

Although I didn’t want to go, I ran out the door and wouldn’t allow any photos to be taken at our house.

Just like my niece’s big night this week, we headed to The Greenvale. No alcohol allowed and the teachers were on duty to make sure this was the case.

We had an awards ceremony – someone who was always late was presented with an alarm clock, and my tan won an award. Yes, it was that bad.

The playlist consisted of Pulp’s Common People, Whigfield’s Saturday night and I’m fairly sure there was a Macarena too.

A night to remember… or not, in my case.