Picture this. It’s less than a week to go before Trinity May Ball, and you have nothing to wear. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Zero. You might be thinking this is an unlikely scenario – how could anyone be so foolish, so careless with time and money? If you are thinking this, dear reader, please click off and stop being so judgy. If not, come along with us as we frantically scour the racks of Cambridge charity shops and endure the perils of changing room lighting and Vinted shipping estimates to find a last minute dress that doesn’t cost more than the ball tickets themselves.
“Despite scavenging the Grafton Centre, we left with heavy hearts and disappointed hopes”
Despite scavenging the Grafton Centre (twice) to find a charity shop ball dress in our sizes, we left with heavy hearts and disappointed hopes. Our next stop was the vintage clothing store Goldrush, so, plagued with increasing dress stress, we headed to Green Street.
We were pleasantly surprised when we got there to find a beautiful collection of vintage 80s prom dresses in the basement…
Zoe’s Dress #1
£18, Gold Rush
I picked this dress out because the statement sleeves, fitted waist and A-line skirt reminded me of a royal blue silk dress I’d seen my mum wear in a photograph from the 80s at my grandparents’ house as a child. I became pathetically sentimental when I tried it on, mainly because I couldn’t believe how much nostalgia I felt for an era I never actually lived through. The grainy changing room photos don’t do justice to how well-made it is, especially in comparison to dresses at the same price bought new, and how gorgeous the fabric looks as it folds. Having rudely decried it as ‘too modest’ for my taste while it was on the rack, I have to confess, reader, that I didn’t want to take it off.
Still, it didn’t have the self-dramatising ‘wow factor’ that feels compulsory when there’s a literal red carpet. And the puffed sleeves were giving Regency ball more than old Hollywood glamour. So, sure I could find an even better bargain elsewhere, I persuaded Niamh that we needed to move online for the second stage of our fashion odyssey.
Niamh’s Dress #1
£90, originally from JJ’s House
This blue dress wasn’t meant to be the dress. The May Ball was days away, and the pressure to find the perfect outfit was mounting by the hour. Then, suddenly, in a 3am blur while scrolling through Vinted, there it was: a navy blue, sparkly gown for £90. Yes, a bit steep for a second-hand panic purchase, but with a corseted bodice, layers of tulle, and a slightly puffed skirt, it seemed to strike the elusive balance between comfortable elegance and fancy opulence. The navy shimmer reminded me of Anastasia’s iconic opera gown in the 1997 film, romantic and regal. If it was good enough for an animated Russian princess, surely it would be fitting for a Trinity May Ball?
I clicked ‘buy’ before I could overthink it. Then came five long days of anxious waiting. When it arrived, I was in awe of its sparkly details and the way it caught the light – it looked like a dress made for a ball. But when I tried it on, I hesitated. It felt too costume-y, too princessy, too unlike me. It didn’t match the fairytale I had conjured in my head, so I pushed it to the back of my wardrobe and kept searching.
Zoe’s Dress #2
£30, originally from ASOS
Since Trinity is known for its unlimited supply of champagne, I decided that a champagne sparkling dress was only appropriately OTT. Having impulsively (and tipsily) ordered this dress at 2am, I spent the next two days obsessively checking my phone for shipping updates. There were just five days to go before the big day. What if it didn’t arrive in time? But my fears proved to be unwarranted, because – thank God – the seller sent it sooner than she had to.
When I initially tried it on, I wasn’t convinced. The low back meant I had to suffer the humiliation of digging out an adhesive bra that was definitely the wrong size, and the heavy fabric risked restricting mobility at crucial moments. “How will I get down to Hot Content’s 5am set now?” I asked Niamh, worried Trinity would miss out on all of my best dance moves. Nevertheless, the long train was suitably melodramatic, and the dress looked far more expensive than it actually was (ideal for Trinity, where dresses generally look as expensive as they actually are). So, in a moment of sleep-deprived hysteria, I indulged a lifelong soft spot for sequins and said yes to the dress (or rather, I clicked “Everything is OK” on Vinted).
But everything was not yet ok for Niamh.
Niamh’s Dress #2
Re-used prom dress, originally £200 from Boutique
By this point, I was desperate. I wanted to find a dress that felt … right, but with the Ball in five days, it was feeling increasingly impossible. In despair, I called my parents (the classic final resort), and my mum reminded me of the green slinky dress I’d worn to my 2022 prom.
It was everything the blue dress wasn’t: understated, open-backed and delicately strappy. Perhaps instead of Anastasia, I could channel my inner Evelyn Hugo or Keira Knightley in Atonement. I slipped it on again and felt older, more cinematic – it felt like the perfect pairing for a night sipping champagne and admiring fireworks. And for a while, I was convinced that this would be it. The green dress was the one. Thanks, Mum.
Until it wasn’t…
“Maybe a part of me did want to feel a bit fancy, sparkly, and seen”
It was the day of the Ball. I had 45 minutes to get ready. My hair was still wet, my makeup half-done, and I frantically slipped into the green dress. And then – the straps. THOSE DAMN STRAPS. I twisted, turned and contorted, but to no avail. I had ten minutes before I had to meet Zoe, and I couldn’t tie the straps up. Frantic, I grabbed the blue dress at the back of the wardrobe and pulled it on.
Maybe, deep down, a part of me did want to feel a bit fancy, sparkly, and seen.
And so, in a shocking turn of events, I said yes to the dress I thought I’d ruled out. And I’m so glad I did.
Well, reader, there you have it. Five days and several energy drinks later, we finally found two dresses fit for a ball. So, if you, like us, find yourself with less than a week to go and no dress in sight next May Ball season, fear not. Where there’s a will, there’s a way – or rather, where there’s a frill, there’s a dream dress waiting to save the day.
