Black tie effect maketh the man

Jul 5 2008 by Hilarie Stelfox, Huddersfield Daily Examiner

‘I had to feign indifference, because getting emotional in a men’s outfitters is simply not allowed’

NO MAN should ever under-estimate the power of a tuxedo. I call it the black tie effect.

A well-cut dinner suit with all the trimmings (cummerbund, bow tie and pointed hankie) has the magical power to transform the ugliest of frogs into handsome princes or smarten up the grungiest of the sartorially challenged.

It even works on teenage boys.

In fact, it even works on my son, whose normal, everyday wear ranges from Peter Storm combats and Chairman Mao T-shirts to jeans with ripped hems or T-shirts bearing faded slogans such as ‘’Make tea, not war.’’

But there he was last Friday, looking like 007 ready for some casino action, all dressed up for the school prom in his new black suit and purple satin accessories.

It was one of those ‘my little boy has become a man’ moments.

I have to admit, with a certain amount of motherly pride, that I enjoyed every single minute we spent together buying the suit and picking out the tie and cummerbund.

At the time, of course, I had to feign indifference, because getting emotional in a men’s outfitters is simply not allowed.

It probably wasn’t quite as much fun as taking a daughter around evening wear stockists, but I have that pleasure yet to come.

We didn’t have a school prom when I was a sixth-former back in the 1970s. We had a disco, organised by my good self for reasons that have been lost in the mists of time.

In fact, I seem to recall being the organiser of quite a few events at school. As my daughter likes to point out on a regular basis – usually when I’m having a go at her about homework and “putting in a bit more effort’’ – I was one of those sixth-formers who had a hand in just about everything.

I liked school and never wanted to leave. “You were a nerd, weren’t you Mum,’’ she says.

Of course this can’t be true as the word hadn’t been invented back then.

Neither had proms or high schools. They are, after all, an American thing. I know about them from watching Superman and Grease.

But, like most things in modern life, the prom tradition has found its way across the Atlantic and into our secondary, now high, schools.

The prom season, now in full swing, is big business for dress and suit hire shops, hairdressers, make-up consultants and limousine companies.

With typical teenage enthusiasm promsters are becoming increasingly competitive, vying with each other to see who can find the most exotic method of transport for the evening.

Stretch limos are, it is said, only for the unadventurous and unimaginative. If you really want to get yourself in the papers you have to arrive in an Army surplus tank or helicopter, at the very least.

Hairdressers say that not only are girls opting for elaborate ‘put-ups’, as they are known in the trade, they make several appointments to try out styles before choosing one for the big day. “They’re treating it like their wedding day,’’ said one bemused stylist, who says bookings for the day itself are made months in advance.

I suppose it’s all good, if expensive, fun. And expensive is a key word here, with parents forking out, in some cases, hundreds of pounds. Before Firstborn bought his prom ticket I shelled out for a Year Book – another American import – and then we discussed suits, photos, taxi money and, most importantly, drinking money. Girls, I imagine, are even costlier creatures.

But, providing you can afford it – and charity shops do offer bargain evening wear for those who don’t mind charity-chic – Prom Day is one of the highlights of the teenage years.

It certainly offers everyone a rare opportunity to dress up and be seen looking quite gorgeously different from their normal, everyday selves.

Firstborn really pushed the boat out by having his hair cut and straightened, so I knew the occasion meant a lot to him..

We live in such casually dressed times that it is most delightful to see young people transformed into movie stars on the red carpet, even if it is only for one night and, like Cinderella, they revert to their distressed jeans and T-shirts the next day.

It is a great antidote to the endless bad news and even gloomier weather!