Cotillion Spring Ball

It sure didn't fee like spring, but we had to make it look good. Cotillion is a once a month event that the Bright-eyed boy complains about but I think he secretly has a good time. The spring ball is the most formal event of the cotillion year, and like last year (here) we opted for a tuxedo over buying him a suit that he'll grow out of by next week. I don't know if you can tell by looking at last year's pictures or not, but he's grown more than six inches since then.

Turns out he's a pretty good dancer! I'm the one having to look at our feet.


He's thrilled that I have to look up at him. He's living for the day that he's taller than his brother. Won't be long at this rate.

I'm very proud of him. And I'm liking this dress, too. Who knew it would match the boutonnieres? Perfect.

Last stop? The Lost Dog to get the boy a chocolate malt and mom and dad a much deserved beer. Needless to say, we were the best dressed folks in the place.

Now back to the taxes. Ugh.

Dressed to the Nines

Reference after reference failed to turn up a definitive origin for the expression "dressed to the nines," although they all seem to agree on its meaning. Describing someone as being "dressed to the nines" implies the donning of expensive clothing, jewelry and other fashionable accessories, most likely for a formal dance or theatrical performance.

Bright-eyed boy professed nonchalance at the whole production of dressing for the Cotillion Black and White Ball, but I think he got into the spirit of the event.

Dad had to help with the studs. . .


And the cummerbund. Troy thought the waistcoats look cool, especially some of the more colorful varieties, but our vendor didn't carry his size, so cummerbund it was.

Then the tie.

Joe Cool channeling James Bond doing a Fonzie move. Heyyyy. . .

And it's off to the dances. The boys had the option of a suit and tie or a tux. Renting the fancy duds was cheaper than buying a suit he's going to grow out of by next week. The girls had a little more leeway, though the theme being black and white narrowed the choices a bit. All the girls had their white gloves on and dance cards on a string around their wrists.

Troy was a sport about all the pictures, but then he started dodging me like I was paparazzi.

I did get one more good shot before he dodged me entirely. Too bad nobody got a picture of me all dressed up for the ball. Moms got a dance with their sons, and dads with their daughters. No glass slippers though.