Diary of a Gen Z Student: We shall go to the ball! Here’s my college ball survival guide

I’m a second year now. I’m a well-seasoned ball-goer. I made my mistakes last year, but not again

Trinity College student and Irish Examiner columnist Jane Cowan. Photo: Barry Cronin

As I write this, it is the last week of my college semester, which means one thing: College ball season is well and truly upon us. You thought I was going to mention exams, assignments, deadlines? Not today, Satan.

Fear not: Those are worries for next week. I’ve still got time for a miraculous academic comeback before exam week. But before that can get underway, Trinity Ball preparations must take priority. And by God, am I preparing. 

All of this time being spent getting ready is the perfect excuse to procrastinate studying, essay writing, and assignment submissions. I’ve got to figure out what I’ll wear on the big day. That’s no small feat, but one I’m valiantly undertaking.

This is not my first rodeo. You see, I’m a second-year student now. I’m a well-seasoned ball-goer. I made my mistakes last year, but not again. This time, I am determined to make it through more than one hour of the ball.

Saying that, do I have an outfit? No. But you have to understand something — I’m just a girl. These things don’t come together easily. It’s a minefield of logistics that I have to coordinate and streamline. 

Sure, the boys need a suit and a shower and they’re ready to hit the dance floor. Another relic of patriarchy — things are just not so simple for the fairer sex.

Here’s a quick rundown of my to-do list before the night.

I have to find the dress. Easier said than done. It can’t be too long, because then I’ll spend the night tripping over it. It can’t be too short, because Dublin is a windy place, and I don’t want to scare anyone. And some form of jacket is necessary, because being outside at 4am is exceedingly cold, even if you’ve got a few drinks warming the system. Alcohol can only do so much.

The dress must also be effortlessly stunning, obviously. (“Effortlessness” is a deceptive word, there’s nothing effortless about it.)

After that, it’s shoes, jewellery, bag, hair, makeup, nails. All while the lads throw on a suit. People think the “invisible load” only exists as far as domestic responsibilities go, but they would be mistaken. It extends to the college night out, too.

I’m being pragmatic in my preparations. Learning from what went wrong last year. Strapless dress? Not a good idea. Dresses with straps or sleeves should be a legal requirement. I spent the night trying — and at one point, failing — to prevent the dreaded: My dress slipping down. But I’ll say no more on that. You can fill in the gaps.

Next: Shoes, too, must have straps, to keep them firmly attached to my feet. When my friend fell in the crowd last year, she came out one shoe lighter. Sure, she had her Cinderella moment, walking through Trinity College with one shoe on. But it’s not so glamorous and fairytale-esque, in practice. Really she had one cold foot, one pretty useless shoe, and no Prince Charming chasing her down, in search of the rightful owner.

Safe to say, she got into her magic pumpkin (taxi) pretty quickly after losing her glass slipper. A girl can only get so far with one shoe. Even one who had a full bottle of wine before leaving the house.

Which leads me smoothly to my next learning point.

It is imperative, that one proceed with the utmost caution, when it comes to pre-drinks. People tend to gather in a mould-infested, bodily fluid-contaminated, soap-free, student kitchen to drink before heading out. It almost sounds charming. As long as you don’t examine the minutia of said unclean kitchen.

And until you realise that, you’ll be needing a few healthy servings of vodka cran, so that the overwhelming odour radiating from the bin (that bin that hasn’t been taken out in six weeks) doesn’t actually bring you to tears.

And that’s a slippery slope. Because what’s the difference between five and 10 drinks? Doesn’t seem like much in the moment, but you’ll certainly feel that difference the next morning, when you’d sell your soul for two paracetamol and a can of Coke.

At this stage, I’m fairly well-seasoned on the old college ball. I’ve certainly had my share of learning moments, and I’m not letting them go to waste.

But I’ll try not to speak too soon. If there’s a blank spot in the paper, where my column should be next Friday, you’ll know what happened.

• Jane is a student at Trinity College Dublin, where she is in her second year, studying English. She is nineteen. She is from Dunshaughlin, Meath.