Miss Tznius 89
Here is the actual winner of Miss Tznius 1989, a controversial victory, because by the time of her Prom, Shmushi Feigelstock was already married! Esther wuz robbed!

So, the secret’s finally out: my yeshiva high school had a prom which many people probably used something similar to limo service long beach ca. And I was one of the organizers. On paper, this would have constituted a major rebellion, were it not for the support of most of my classmates’ parents. If anyone–classmate or parent–had strenuously objected to our efforts, or if the administration had received official notification of our subversive plans to dance with our classmates, we probably would have had to cancel. And there was the possibility, however slight, of suspension in those last days before graduation.

It was a homegrown affair: we rented space at a Conservative synagogue in Rockland County, NY, where a friend’s mother was the Hebrew school principal. We got a caterer, also through a personal connection. We got a DJ. We bought pre-printed invitations in a stationery store, and with the calligraphy skills I had attained in fifth grade, I filled them out with the relevant details and addressed the envelopes. (To this day, I have random addresses and zip codes floating around my head, cluttering space that undoubtedly could have been used for Pulitzer-winning ideas.)

I bought a dress that was black, largely lace, and fairly revealing considering all the dresses I’d had before (or even since). We had a piece of material added in the back to make it a little more modest, but still, this dress would not have won me any Miss Tznius 1989 competitions.

There was only one boy I wanted to go with from school, but there was literally no chance that he would ever ask me. So I asked a friend of mine from camp. I had had a huge crush on him the summer before, and had even dared to tell him about it. Even though he didn’t feel the same way, we stayed close, and were both going to Rutgers in the fall: I couldn’t think of anyone better to have at my side as I left high school behind. But his mother told him he couldn’t go because he had too much work to do before he graduated. (I still think that may have been an excuse.)

Next choice: another guy from camp. He was cute, a good dancer, and I was comfortable with him. He said yes…but not before a “we have to talk” encounter, wherein he made it clear that we were just friends, and despite any John Hughes-movie-esque expectations I might have acquired, the prom was just like any other dance, not inherently romantic or magical. For the first time, I began to see that, being in yeshiva high school and raised on a steady diet of magazines and movies praising prom as the pinnacle of the high school experience, I was incredibly naive, and people knew it.

The talk was good. It was the right thing for him to do. It was something that I needed, even though it made me said to be viewed as someone who would need such a conversation, and to have the idea of romance surgically removed before my friend would agree to be my date seemed somewhat anticlimactic. Still, it also removed any pressure to be or look a certain way, and I felt freer to enjoy myself and have fun with my friends. But no high school movie ever ended with everyone dancing platonically.

I look back and am happy with how it all turned out. None of us got suspended for our illegal prom planning activities. My prom date is still a friend I see at least once a year. The guy who turned me down for prom became my neighbor at college, my first boyfriend, and my first ex within two years; he got married last August, and I signed his civil marriage license. And me? I’m still here, still a little naive and skeptical about the love and romance that is long overdue me, but maintaining a small, stubborn, near-immortal notion that when it happens for me, I won’t mind having waited.

And perhaps the most miraculous circumstance of all– all these years later, my prom dress still fits.

(This walk down memory lane brought to you by this article from Beliefnet about “Prim Proms,” which examines how religious teens of three faiths celebrate their graduations from high school.)

Likely to be cross-posted to My Urban Kvetch later today. Because she’s a plagiarist.

About the author

Esther Kustanowitz

For more posts by Esther, see EstherK.com, MyUrbanKvetch.com and JDatersAnonymous.com.

17 Comments

  • Ahhhh…a flashback!

    In my pretty right-wing yeshiva, when I graduated in 1979, we made an underground mimeographed yearbook (since the yeshiva didn’t like the idea of yearbooks.) In that yearbook I composed a story called The Prom describing in detail the happenings at a fictional prom with the local Bais Yaakov. (Mostly, the story made fun of the graduates by describing their dates.) We placed the yearbooks on the shtenders of all the rebbeim the morning after we got our diplomas….to this day I think they believe the prom actually happened.

  • Elder, the subversive ways of the force are strong with you. I approve…

    It is undoubtedly testament to your story-crafting skills that you were able to create an “alternate reality” where there was a joint prom with Bais Yaakov. And what a prom that must have been…

  • Elder,
    My yearbook in ’03 was just a little pr thing my school liked to do. Since we weren’t allowed any fun, we made an alternative interactive cd to go along with the yearbook that we geeky computer kids (go Flash girls!…um, Macromedia Flash girls) put together. And that was where we had our fun!

  • I went to a few proms and they all completely sucked I could think of much better ways to waste ridiculous amounts of money, I just don’t get it.

  • Wine guy, that’s because you’re not a girl. And probably, you’ve never been one. Our prom was a small-budget affair, so I think it was $50 a person, $85 a couple (a bargain to go together…why pay retail?). So it wasn’t that much. But it was really a big graduation party, which we sorely deserved after four years of school from 7:45am to 5:30pm (and that’s without extra-curriculars)…

  • Thanks, Gary. And yes, wine guy, the secrecy provides a little bit of a buzz. But the prom is usually all about the chicks anyway. Fancy clothes, hair and makeup help us “play wedding.” And it’s a good thing, too–because look how long some of us end up waiting for the real thing…

    (I’m kidding…a little.)

  • Dina:
    I like! Since Daughter of Ziyon is a computer design goddess, and she is in a high school with similar restrictions, I will certainly pass on this idea to her. Thanks!

  • That is against Halachah and VERY rebellious, no matter what YOU think about it. It was very Un-Jewish to say the least.

  • Oh, really, Sarah. A prom was not the end of the world, even if you had to endure a lot of Bon Jovi and OMD. And anyway, this happened like 10 years ago! So relax, let it go, Sarah. We can’t all be hard-core frummies.

  • My only concern with proms, yeshiva or otherwise, is that I have it on good authority that they sometimes lead to dancing, and Kool-Aid is a known factor in the corruption of middos.

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