Waiting for 22

My daughter’s last prom is imminent. We’ve been fortunate to date to inherit prom dresses from my god-daughter for the last two go-rounds. And boy, am I grateful for that. Why? Well, the cost factor was a definite perk. But the real saving grace was something I didn’t even realize. Until yesterday.

Yesterday was our prom dress shopping day. I was looking forward to it. A day with my daughter. And as any mom, and sometimes dad, of a prom-going daughter apparently knows, Boom Babies is the place to go.

I love the Westcott Street vibe and am a fan of the store’s cool jewelry. But when we stepped through the door, what we encountered was a Boom Babies I didn’t recognize.

Although advertised to open at 11, when we got there a little before what we thought was opening time, a big sign on the door read “We’re Open” and the store was already PACKED. Wall to wall moms and daughters. Dads and daughters. And boyfriends and their dates.

Some families had traveled some distance. One from Canajoharie.

And a young man upon entering the store took one look around and said, “I’m scared of this place.”

And I couldn’t have agreed more. Girls snagged dresses up to the 10-item limit all around us and there was little room to move. We were given a number – 22- and shopped as best we could till our number was called: nearly two hours later.

I do want to mention here that Boom Babies is staffed by super-efficient, well-trained, helpful employees. They give advice, grab additional dresses for you, and even offer location-based alteration recommendations. They have a policy requiring a one dress-color per school limit and keep a record of all sales. As someone who never attended a prom, I didn’t realize the significance of this, but my daughter stressed to me that this was of the utmost importance.

Meg and I had made pact to have fun and not argue – something that has been known to happen now and again when shopping together - and we stuck to it despite the frenzied atmosphere.

We even had a good time and found the perfect dress. Let me tell you, as your number gets closer and then you hear it called, the excitement builds and it’s like winning the lottery. I even let out a loud whoop when I heard “22”.

And after all was said and done, I was glad that we got to experience a rite of passage here in Syracuse. I’m also glad I only had to do it once!