This series is already a success, because a friend has let me know that her 11th grade prom dress was probably based off Butterick 6406.

I wasn’t sure what to focus on for the second post, but decided to keep riding the 90s Prom theme.

I can NOT get over the idea that Jennifer Aniston is wearing the black and white version, even though the model looks nothing like her, facially.

I think it’s more of a Rachel Green look than real life Aniston, though, because I did some image searching and found this red carpet ensemble, which amazingly enough might have been the reason I bought this pattern. Check out this prom picture, from my first year in college, when I drove home for the weekend (16 hours roundtrip?) to go with a friend who was getting over a break-up and really needed the cachet of a cool older woman for a replacement date. The commentary in the tags of that photo says everything I will ever need to say about that outfit. (Though, somehow I forgot to draw attention to the stretchy elastic pink choker, which was braided, I believe. That…happened.)

Have you noticed that I’m sharing discreet links to the photos that are embarrassing? Hoping that you click away and laugh, but hiding them away so you can’t judge until I think you’re sufficiently prepared. Thankfully, I have ONE AND ONLY ONE prom photo that I am not afraid to post here.

No, I didn’t make the dress. I just can not resist sharing this photo.

AND the success of the dress was the reason I bought this pattern:

I have only had two versions of this dress. One, made by my mom (my recollection that Mom didn’t sew anything for me after 9th grade is turning out to be spectacularly wrong), for no particular reason that I can place, was formal and two-tone, and eventually shredded to pieces so I could “model” for a roommate’s photography class.

The other, sewn by me, was made entirely out of denim. Because of Britney & Justin.

Obviously.

I never wore it anywhere – somehow no event in my life was well-suited for a formal denim gown. I have one photo of myself wearing the dress, but I’m not going to share it because, really, isn’t it enough to know that I made this? That it once existed? (I can’t find this unicorn of a dress anywhere, which means I must have thrown it away or recycled the fabric or burned it sacrificially in hopes that JT and Brit would get back together one day.)

Friends, these patterns have now fulfilled their destinies. Now that I’ve blogged about them, they’re both going into the trash/recycling bin.