The Halo Effect

09 | menswear

The Chanel box arrived one day before Winter Formal.

Its contents embodied my fashion dreams. I'd styled the slim-cut, black tailored suit with an ivory button-down and a loose black tie. My satin fuchsia heels added a pop of color to the monochrome outfit.

Women in menswear shouldn't seem radical or transgressive, but there was no point denying that I was straying from what the Cannondale student body expected of me. And that wasn't a bad thing. I didn't crave approval, and neither did my friends. We maintained our prestige just fine without going out of our way to remind people why we deserved our revered standing in the school's social hierarchy.

Our high heels clicked on the cobblestone walkway leading to an impressive old colonial manor that once served as the first headmaster's house. Its purpose these days was hosting events like school dances and stuffy donor banquets. Tonight it was the former.

We'd take pictures with our dates in the manor and then board a coach bus that would whisk us off to the venue on the Boston harbor. It was another classic Cannondale tradition.

Gianna and Kelsey marched in front of Macallan and me, scrolling through the photos we'd taken on Macallan's digital camera back at Roosevelt Hall. My favorite part of school dances was getting ready for them. Hair, makeup, jewelry, posing in front of the mirror hanging on our door - it was fun and easy. And there were no boys involved. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for the remainder of the night. I exhaled a weary sigh despite myself.

"Put on your party face and you'll skate through the night unscathed," Macallan said, flashing me an encouraging smile. Her intricate blonde updo resembled a golden tiara.

I threw her a mock scowl. "I don't have a party face."

"Improvise. I have faith in you."

"What more could I possibly ask for?"

Just as we reached the front doors, Kelsey glanced back at us from over her shoulder. "If anyone sees my nipples through my dress, they better know that I'm aware and that I know what concepts I'm about."

"Bras are a social construct," I said, content to not be wearing one beneath my white shirt. No one should ever feel like they had to wear a bra, but then again, men still thought they had a say in what women did with their bodies. Patriarchal societal norms perpetually threatened female autonomy in the United States.

I pretended not to notice the attention our arrival received, looping my arm through Gianna's as we zipped over to the check-in table. 

Both the junior and senior class at Cannondale were in attendance, ensuring that cliques and social alliances were clear as day for anyone with an ounce of self-awareness. This was why I adhered to three principles at school dances. First, never go out of your way to compliment someone. Fishing for compliments wasn't cute, and validation wasn't a two-way street. Being nice to someone did not grant you or your actions clemency for the night. Second, never go to the bathroom alone. Everyone will assume you were crying, and there was strength in numbers - especially when it came to fending off catty girls. And last but not least, never instigate a fight. Everyone was watching everyone else, and there was nothing classy about taking advantage of a built-in audience.

Our quartette became a trio when Kelsey spotted Win Petrov in the grand entryway alongside his straight-out-of-dark academia associates. While Macallan was quick to locate Jameson and the junior baseball player who she'd arranged to be Gianna's date, I took my time looking for Grayson. He'd sent me a few texts about his arrival time, but I was perfectly fine with minimizing the amount of time I had to spend in his presence.

The three of us were chatting with a handful of teammates about our eventual rematch against Silvermine Academy when my phone buzzed in my hand.

MOM, 6:33 PM: I know you'll look beautiful in the suit. Enjoy your night, I love you.