Meg Rosoff

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You SHALL go to the ball.

Yes, fans, I'm going to the ball.  THE ball.  The Queen of Teen ball, dresscode: Pretty in Pink. Sparkly shoes and glittering jewels optional (but fab!) The last time I dressed all in pink was in 1987.  I was 30 and living in NYC, invited to a wedding in London, and my mother (despairing that I seemed no closer to marriage than during the previous ten years) took me shopping for what used to be called 'an outfit'. In a rare moment of self-doubt, I agreed to eschew my usual black for a pair of  pale pink knitted trousers with matching top. It wasn't entirely as bad as it sounds -- they were expensive and flattering, if you're the sort of person who doesn't mind looking like an oversized rabbit. My mother (bless her) thought I looked wonderful. At the party I was the only woman in attendance not dressed in something black, cool, and sophisticated.

Please don't bother offering cheery comments like, "it's great to stand out!" and "I bet you could really carry it off."

It's not, and I couldn't.

Unfortunately I didn't save the pictures from the event, which were hilarious. Well, they'd be hilarious now.  Twenty three years heals most wounds.

But I digress.

To make a long story short, I hope the organizers will forgive me if I eschew pink and sparkly for the Queen of Teen party on Friday, though I've promised Cathy Cassidy I'd go as her elf and I'm very pleased to be invited, because I'm interested to see it all firsthand, and no one likes a pink cupcake more than I do. I do hope Cathy wins because she's my pal and a terrific writer, and already owns TWO pink dresses.

Hope to see you there. You won't have trouble picking me out of the crowd.