Starting ‘em young: the prom hubaderas

MANILA, Philippines - I’m convinced that high school serves the sole purpose of giving us something to cringe at later on in life. From cotton candy romantic notions to raging hormones, Blue Magic stuffed toys, and how it was socially acceptable to literally rank who the hottest girls were (and silently resent that your name was not on the list). If life were to be likened to riding a bicycle, high school would be the dorky stage on trainer wheels except that at the time, we had ourselves convinced that we were being cool.

Then, of course, there is the fashion. I never really liked the typical prom gowns to begin with. The garishly bright, saccharine colors, or the baby pastels, the shiny fabrics, and bulky silhouettes draped over still underdeveloped bodies and personas. And don’t even get me started on the lola hair and mommy makeup.

Taking spring break to the prom

Recently though, there seemed to be a new trend in the proms of late, where underaged girls showed up in sheer lace, with plunging necklines, side boobs, bare backs, singit slits, and provocative cut-outs that exposed the hip bones all in one dress.

I used to dislike the fact that seductive and sexually explicit roles were called “mature” in showbiz, as if maturing were all about baring skin and writhing onscreen. But after seeing photos of young girls wrapped in meager fabric, I finally understood.

I didn’t even blink at Anne Curtis’s controversial birthday gown on ASAP because the woman clearly knew what she was doing. She was ripe, at ease, and could pull off her sexuality with conviction and her trademark sweetness. It goes without saying that she had a show to put on, but you didn’t get the feeling that she was trying to sell anything. If you didn’t buy it, eh di you didn’t buy it. These girls, however, while showing the amount of skin that we’re already used to seeing on red carpets, reeked of desperation. For starters, they seemed to have missed the whole context of a prom.

But then again, even while shuddering at their photos and predicting that they would be doing the same in five years’ time, I had to admit that in a way it was a legitimate part of the process. Elegance, just like confidence, is developed through all the times you step out, awkwardly shaking in your stilettos and getting it wrong. Even the late Cosmo editor-in-chief Helen Gurley Brown encouraged, “Nearly every glamorous, wealthy, successful career woman you might envy now started out as some kind of schlep.” High school is the time life has allotted for us to be that schlep, whether it comes in the form of being an awkward dork, a misunderstood rebel with self-inflicted issues, or in slutting it up too early.

I realized I couldn’t fault these young hos. They’re premature and disturb several of my sensibilities all at once, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been there. While my prom dress was a perfectly decent number, there was a time when I blindly craved experience for the sake of experience. A time when I was desperate and wide-eyed. A time when I bore unnecessary pains to take whatever I could get. A time when I thought I was doing a very good job at looking out for myself, except I wasn’t.

Part of the process

You would think that I’d regret being such a mess, but I don’t. We need chaos, f**k-ups, and fashion faux pas to come into a genuinely grounded version of ourselves someone who actually knows how to drive a life. You can’t have taste with conviction if you didn’t let everything happen to you at some point. You can’t profoundly enjoy upholding your dignity unless you experience firsthand how people will regard you without it. While we may not want to speak of the juvenile things we did, we can at least admit to ourselves that we had to be that person. We had to do the things we did, and, well, wear the things we wore.

There’s still a part of me that wants to swoop down and save these hapless girls from their tacky and untimely debut into hubadera-hood. I want to save them from the high school jerks that they will later realize never had anything interesting to say. I want to save them from giving leery old men the pedo vibes.

I want to save them from trying too hard. But then again, isn’t that what high school is all about? Deluding yourself that you have finally made the transition into sophisticated and complicated adulthood? That your love life is just as dramatic as the plots you watch on TV, and that you can pull off whatever your favorite pop star is wearing?

This is the part where I sigh and say that a stage is a stage and that ultimately seniority can only do so much intervention. Sometimes instead of judgment or forcing one’s taste and ideals, what a person needs is space to do the embarrassing sh*t that they need to do. And hopefully, someday, when they truly come of age, they will see that it’s sexier and more satisfying to not give away so much and then realize that the hunky guy in the room is aware that your top has a very slight sheer quality to it, and is exerting the effort to subtly bore holes into it with his eyes.

Whether these girls grow into someone demure, someone who likes men to think it’s their fault, or someone who can manage to bare a lot with class, for now I would like to trust that in due time they will know what they’re doing.

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