BY HAYLEY CLARK

They say that if you don’t wear something for a whole year, you should throw it out.

Just the thought makes me mentally plan out my next week of outfits to include everything from the tiny one-shouldered red dress I no longer fit to the 6-inch heels I can’t get out my front door in.

Because there, tucked right in the back, is a much-loved ball dress from my high school days. It’s full-length, halter, form-fitting, hazy grey to charcoal black in a way that pre-dates 50 shades, and sparkles as if it carries its own electric charge. 



Just the feel of it brings back the nostalgia in waves. It started with putting it on for the first time while shopping with mum.

I wore it to my final high school ball, my first-ever boyfriend’s high school ball, a prom-themed 21st and even a July 4 party where a group of gals went as pageant queens. It lost sparkles on everyone I hugged and every seat I sat on, became something of a running joke and never seemed to run out of glitter.



These days it dwells in the back of my wardrobe as if it pays rent.

I hold onto it to remember the group of girls I went to the ball with, now scattered about the globe with new lives and new friends. I hold onto it to remember nervously getting my hair and makeup done for the first time. I hold onto it to remember my youth, that night, that place, that happiness. I hold onto it, simply, to remember.