Prom night. Shmom night. (From Bradford Telegraph and Argus)

Prom night. Shmom night.

12:37pm Friday 13th July 2007

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The other evening there was a bit of excitement on our street when a white stretch limo pulled up outside a neighbour's house. A gaggle of teenage girls in ball-gowns came out, posed for each others' photographs and climbed into the car.

"It's prom night," said my neighbour, looking on proudly as the car squeezed out of the street. "They've been getting ready for hours, you wouldn't believe the tension. I feel like I need to lie down in a darkened room."

One of the girls was in jeans and looked younger than the others. "She's getting a lift to the main road," said her mum. "She's too young for the prom, I'll have all this again with her in a couple of years. It a dear do. Prom dresses don't come cheap."

What is all this about prom nights? I don't get it. It's a slice of Americana that seems to have come out of nowhere. Suddenly you can't open the T&A without seeing groups of teenagers dolled up to the nines, setting off for their end-of-term prom. Some of them look about 30.

What happened to the humble school disco? That was all we ever had, and we were happy to have it. And I'm sorry but at the age of 16, 17 or 18 the idea of wearing a ball-gown to a school disco would've filled me with horror. I'd left that kind of dress behind when I was a seven-year-old bridesmaid, thank you very much.

Prom night used to be just something you saw on dated American movies - and it usually ended in tears. Or a massacre.

The idea of going to a prom was a bit, well, naff. Why would we want to look like cheesy all-American teenagers? Prom queens were mocked by the likes of Rizzo in Grease and Winona Ryder in Heathers - who wanted to look like a meringue when you could be something more interesting?

I didn't go to a ball until I was at university, and thankfully it was nothing like a high school prom. At least I was living away from home by then, so when I stumbled home at 5am I didn't have to face my parents. Graduation balls mark a milestone in your adult life, they're traditional, formal affairs that you never forget.

But these days schools are holding post-GCSE prom nights. What's next - pre-school Viennese balls? Black tie dinners for Key Stage One? Cocktail parties for playgroups?

I was talking to a colleague recently whose friend spent £500 on her daughter's prom. The dress alone cost £200, then there were the accessories and the obligatory pampering spa session. And I'm sure stretch limos don't come cheap.

There are bound to be parents who've gone into debt to pay for their children's prom. That's before they even start forking out to send them to university.
And can you imagine how competitive prom nights are? There's nothing worse than a group of teenage girls looking each other up and down, checking out the labels of dresses and comparing fake tans. The boys are probably doing the same. Pity the poor kids whose prom clothes don't come up to scratch.

In my teenage life (which admittedly was in the last century) we dressed down to go out, and we were happy with an illicit can of cider and a decent DJ. The notion of having spa sessions, wearing five hundred quid dresses and posing like prom queens would've made us laugh. Who wants to look middle-aged when they're 17?
Prom night is the thin end of the wedge of Americanisation. It can only be a matter of time before we have 'high school graduation', with school-leavers wearing blue mortar boards and gowns, clutching yearbooks. Maths will become 'math' and assembly will start with a hand-on-heart rendition of the Star Spangled Banner.

Prom night. Shmom night.