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  • Yes, I have been in a concert before; this Monday should be nothing out of ordinary. But ah, it is.
    Before, all that was asked of you in appearance was to wear good, proper clothes with no wrinkles. Now, they're trickling some more responsibility on our backs. Well...I may be exaggerating a bit here; It's not a HUGE deal, except for the fact that appearance is worth 50% of a student's music grade at this particular concert. So what's different, you ask? This year, we are expected to arrive to the concert in a white, long-sleeve shirt, jet-black tights, pants, or skirts that come at least below the knee, black socks, and black concert shoes that are NOT sneakers. In other words, everything from the waist up exceptionally white, and everything from the waist down as dark a black as you can find. Also, men must wear red ties or bows, unless they want Ms.Harlow to torture them with back-up clip-on bows that will cause complete embarrassment at the concert. This year, the rules are strict. Music Teacher Harlow explains the need to wear black and white simply: The audience will, or should, see a solid row of black on the bottom half of the scene, and white on the top half. It all has to do with tricking the eyes. If a kid shows up wearing, perhaps, navy blue pants, that messes up the illusion. Either way, I'm not concerned about chickening out on stage or forgetting the songs; the chorus teacher tells us we're her best singing group in the school, anyway. Before Thanksgiving (Happy Thanksgiving, by the way!) mom took me out on a three-hour shopping spurt to get the clothes I needed. Usually, we would reuse any old clothes in the house to make my costume; shopping is a last resort. Three hours of dragging around Target and Macy's, coming face-to-face with tons of mouth-watering items, bathing in electronic beeping and blinding lights was torture for me. And when we discovered the fancy shoes we bought did not fit, it was back to the shoe store (besides, mom hates it when we buy items that are only used once and then never touched again). Even now, I am not comfortable with my outfit, which I will probably only wear once in my life: A thin white blouse, navy blue pants, boot-like black shoes, and black socks that seem to be made to collect dust and cat hair. Enough shopping has been done in this household, and I'm stuck with what I have. A couple days ago I was debating over whether to ask Ms.Harlow if my outfit was appropriate, or to show up at the concert with what I have and act innocent. Which is easier and/or better, permission or forgiveness? Well, it's too late now. I'll have to go with forgiveness.
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