In all the romanticized versions of prom my favorite high school movies have cooked up – “10 Things I Hate About You,” “Mean Girls,” “She’s All That” – not a single one shows the process I experienced last week: spending my lunch wave in line to hand in a $65 check in exchange for a “you’re good” as a confirmation that I can attend Staples’ Junior Prom. The fact is that the fantasies of a prom kiss under fluorescent Hollywood set lights are dampened quite a bit when it is required to pay for the experience .
While it makes sense that Staples needs cash to fund these prom events, the scattered complaints of it costing too much or generally not being “worth it” are rooted in genuine grounds for an argument. After the standard purchases of dresses and shoes, nail and hair appointments and even platters of finger foods if you’re hosting photos, another purchase to go to the event itself may seem like a hassle. According to a 2015 survey from Visa, Northeastern U.S. families will spend an average of $738 on prom night. Adding on this additional fee to be let inside an outdoor tent after all that spending will obviously initiate complaints.
Handing in my last-minute check for a ticket, I couldn’t help but wonder where exactly my money was going. The fruit punch bowl? A couple of streamers to hang from the ceiling? Part of the DJ’s salary, as to ensure he’ll play all the worst 2000s pop hits? This is what’s missing in the Staples Prom ticket buying process – a clear indication for students of the necessity of their purchase, especially considering many will be spending the majority of their night at an afterparty anyways.
The tickets aren’t exactly “too much,” per se, but the vague email giving each student only three days to get their cash in gives a feeling akin to Amazon telling you there’s only “10 left” of those paper towels you know full well are completely stocked; a push to just urgently throw your check into the pile of hundreds.
It’s possible, however, that these complaints are simply rooted in the movie magic expectations I mentioned and the abnormally high standards that come with an event like prom. Of course I’d love to anticipate a promposal from the man of my dreams or a Cinderella dress to wow my fellow juniors, but there’s a more realistic, genuine fun possible at the event that might be worth the cash.
The County Assemblies Charity Ball in January was notably almost four times the prom ticket price at a hefty $195 per couple. Retrospectively, were the chicken fingers and remixed Bar Mitzvah hits worth all that? Not at all. But the memories I have from that night – screaming the lyrics to that Charli XCX song on the dancefloor, enthusiastically complimenting each and every girl’s dress and giggling on my couch afterwards as we debriefed the night – are priceless.
In that sense, the $65 cost works: I’m not paying for the whimsical ball of my dreams; I’m paying for the moments that can only exist from a gathering of all my friends, acquaintances, enemies and even a chaperone or two in one area. I’m paying for the first glimpse of the dance floor all set up with sparkling lights and the initial sight of my friends gleefully prancing around the dance floor. I’m paying for a night straight out of the movies – even if the most romantic part of it all is the moment where I catch my best friend’s eyes and give a look that could only mean “Well, this is lame.” But she agrees – and that’s the fun of it.
