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I think it’s safe to say I’ve never had a real date before. I’ve either had to split the bill, drive them home, or sit and watch the piece of greenery move around their teeth. But on the 12th of October 2011 I was finally going on a true date…
This meant I needed to look amazing. Being a lover of fashion but too shy and too short to get away with anything published in ELLE (not to mention restricted by a student budget) my style is simple. Therefore I had a simple blue dress from New Look just waiting to be worn. After being ordered by my friends to buy it, the dress had been sleeping soundly in my uni wardrobe dying to be worn on a night out. So I ripped the tag off and slipped it on. The soft material flowed over my stomach, not too tight to reveal my binge drinking the night before, and fell a couple of inches above my knee – not too slutty, not too straight-laced. I wore it with patterned tights I’d picked up from Primark for £2 and rust-orange heels. I tapped lightly on my housemate’s door to ask to have a look in her full-body mirror. She squealed as I walked in, bursting with excitement for my date. She may have been more excited than me!
I twirled in the mirror and felt great, I actually looked decent. Moments later the door bell rang and I quickly (but careful not to fall over) clambered down the stairs to greet him. “Wow” he said; “you scrub up pretty well” he smiled. “You don’t look to bad yourself” I grinned widely. I felt as though I was in a cheesy American chick-flick saying those age-old lines. As we made our way to our unknown destination I smiled to myself, flattening out the creases in my dress and rearranging the small brown belt around my waist. He grabbed my hand in the back of the taxi and squeezed. “You really do look beautiful”. Blushing, I was glad I was wearing blue; with the contrast of my bright hair and flushed expression, in red I would’ve been a ripe tomato.
After a romantic meal in Prezzo surrounded by other couples – even ones we knew, we went to the bar where we first met. He ordered the same drinks and we sat at the same place. After a few moments passed he grabbed my hand once more and sheepishly muttered “will you be my girlfriend?” I laughed and nodded, tickled by his embarrassment but warmed by the sentiment. We’ve been together for almost 16 months now and I will always thank that little blue dress.
By Tammie Lane
