Back In the Day...

When I was at Chemainus Secondary School, our Graduation Dance took the place of a Prom.

The event was held on Canada's May holiday weekend, which was called "The Queen's Birthday." (Twenty-fourth of May! The Queen's birthday! If you don't give us a holiday, we'll all run away!)

So, Thursday night, the girls all had a pajama party at somebody's house, and the boys had a stag party. In a class of 42 (students, not the year), the two parties usually got together at some point, involving beer. The year I graduated, the pajama party was in a barn, and the hostess's mom took up all the car keys so that nobody could go and get beer, or boys. The boys showed up, bringing beer, and things went downhill from there.

Friday was Sports Day at school, for which we were required to check in, but, except in the case of athletes who chose to compete, not much was expected of any of us. That was the day I slapped Esther Howe because she kidney punched me once too often. Her sister was engaged to an RCMP, and Esther, being small, liked to learn all the tricks of the trade and practice them on me.

But, I digress...

Having survived the day in the sun, that evening was devoted to some serious partying. My date finally showed up, and I put on my rose brocade (the one that I had to wear a sweater with, as perspiration was very noticeable under the arms on that sleeveless dress), and we went to a party. Everyone who was drinking the punch was getting a bit silly, so I stuck with 7-Up. Hamish took me home early, and then went back to the party to partake of the punch.

Hamish was a bit of an anomaly. There were two boys in my class whose last name was Cherry (I kid you not), and one of them should have been in college by then. He had a friend who was actually a freshman at U Vic, and his name was Hamish. The Cherry boys had a sister that Esther, Margaret and I hung out with on occasion, which was how I met Hamish in the first place. Hamish was kinda cute, and looked a bit like Peter Noone of Herman's Hermits, though with better teeth. I, being the strange and unpopular child that I was, couldn't bear the thought of not being invited to the dance. I had visions of the nightmare being suffered by my unpopular friends. I had no confidence that anyone would invite me, so I invited Hamish. He condescended to accept my invitation, as I wouldn't be the only person there that he knew.

Most of the girls made their own gowns in Home Ec. Pretty much the same style--scoop neck, sleeveless, empire waist, A-line long skirt. Simple, and lovely. About ten girls did that, so ten dresses looked very much alike. I wish I still had the group photo!

Virginia Bock had been a nominee for the Miss Chemainus pageant the year before, so she still had the classic sheath that was de rigeur for that event. Very Audrey Hepburn. Sylvia Fenn had a very nice, but rather stiff dress, and Cathy Aiken had blown out all the stops and paid $90 for a lovely one-shoulder, Grecian-looking gown from The Big City. Me? Well, you know me! Having flunked out of Home Ec a few years before, I was on my own. Mom was in England at the time, so Dad shelled out $17 for patterns (plural) and fabric, and I made my gown. With sleeves from one pattern, collar and bodice from another, and skirt from yet another, I made a lovely gown. It had a full skirt, a blouson bodice with a Chelsea collar and long sleeves. It was made of a flower print chiffon and lined with teal taffeta. Nothing like the prevailing fashion of the time (except for the Chelsea collar), but very flattering to my (non-existent) figure. I KNOW I have a picture somewhere, and when I find it I shall scan and post it.

Still, my preparations for the dance did not go smoothly. Dad couldn't see why I needed a new pair of shoes, as I had a perfectly good pair of heels. Mom was, as I said, away at the time and not available to reason with him. He had no understanding that I needed white shoes, or teal ones, and insisted that my black ones would do very well with my summery print gown and my white evening purse.

Right.

So I got some shoe dye and thought I had my shoes all fixed up, until I put them on and a huge chunk of white shoe dye just flaked right off of there. So I scrubbed and scraped to get the rest of it off, and forgot to set my hair.

So, when Hamish showed up to get me, there I was, in my pretty dress and flaky shoes, with my hair up in brush rollers, as I attempted to get some sort of curl going with hair spray. However, hair spray is not gel, and we didn't have blow dryers in those antediluvian days, so my hair remained stubbornly straight when the rollers were unwound.

That whole process elicited the following compliment from my Prince Charming:

"You are, without a doubt, the most disorganized girl I have ever seen."

So, off to the dance at the Qualicum Beach Hotel. Some of those kids cleaned up so nice that I didn't even recognize them! Our $25 ticket got us a "banquet" and dance with a live band that did covers of popular songs of the time. Hamish was cognizant of his responsibilities enough to squire me around the dance floor fairly frequently, but spent the rest of the time hobnobbing with the Cherry brothers.

He took me straight home (to Margaret's), and was supposed to pick me up in the morning for the Sunday festivities, which consisted of a pancake brunch at someone's house and an all-day picnic on one of the nearby islands, accessible only by private boat. No ferries.

My friend Margaret (who eventually married Tom Cherry) had invited me to stay at her house that night, so I would be on hand for the brunch, and Hamish would not have to drive the three miles out in the country to my house.

The phone woke us at about 7:30 and it was Linda Cherry, informing us that Hamish had done a bunk in the middle of the night. I guess he figured that he had done his duty, squiring me to the party and the dance, and could return to the rarefied atmosphere of the University of Victoria with a clear conscience.