Blog: I Went to a Civil War Ball

As many of you know, I’m homeschooled and since I’m homeschooled, that means that things like prom and homecoming aren’t really common. While there are a few groups that I know of that do offer those things for homeschoolers, I either never learned about it in time or it never lined up with my schedule. However, last year, one of my friends went to an annual Civil War reenactment ball and this year, I decided to go as well seeing as I’m almost out of high school and opportunities to do something like prom are running out. That and I like big, poofy dresses.

But why the Civil War? Why couldn’t it be like a normal prom or homecoming without having a historical aspect?

The reason as explained on the website was that the founder wanted to give homeschoolers in middle and high school the opportunity to go to some sort of dance similar to prom without parents having to worry about inappropriate dance moves or outfits, dating, or rock music (ironically, while I was changing out of my dress, whoever was in charge of the radio in the waiting room was playing a rap song where I heard the F-bomb at least 10 times). Thus, the Civil War with its modest, but beautiful dresses, instrumental music, and classy group dances was a happy medium. And it didn’t take away from the fun of the night.

To get a ticket for the ball, I had to sign up several months in advance. This event was on January 11, but I had signed up for it back in October. It was relatively cheap to get in, only $40 (I’ve heard that prom tickets can range anywhere from $20-$250 depending on where it’s held) and I was given the option of either renting a dress there or buying a dress online and going in that. Originally, I opted for renting a dress there since rentals didn’t cost much, but my mom insisted that I get my own dress and accessories for the ball, especially if I planned on going again next year. Thus, I went to Amazon and started searching for a dress, hoopskirt, gloves, shoes, and the jewelry to go with it.

Now, if you’re planning on going to a Civil War ball or other Civil War themed event and you’re planning on getting your dress from Amazon, just know that you may be matching 10-20 other girls while you’re there. The reason why is because Amazon dresses are relatively cheap (compared to the same dress that may be being sold elsewhere for hundreds of dollars) and they seem to only have 10 styles of dresses that look fairly accurate to the time period. My friend (let’s call her Maria) warned me about this, telling me how she went in an Amazon dress last year and matched several people, but I thought, “Whelp, I’m gonna risk it.” Thus, I bought a gorgeous red and black dress from Amazon that looked something like this:

When it arrived the first time, it was incredibly cheap for the $78 we paid for it and didn’t look like it did in the picture. The color was off, the bows on the shoulders were non-existent, the sash on the front wasn’t sown on correctly so when tied in the back, it didn’t give the torso the appearance of a V-shape, the ribbon for lacing up the dress was not only the wrong color but was also fraying heavily, practically disintegrating the more you touched it, and there weren’t enough loops on the back to properly lace up the dress. Ultimately, we had to send it back, Amazon took its jolly sweet time refunding us, and Mom found the same dress for less on a different website. This dress was the one I ended up keeping and despite the price difference, it was much better quality and looked like the picture, though the color in real life is a bit darker. The hoopskirt that I got to go with it (which was also the second hoopskirt I bought since the first was too big) arrived the same day and when I tried the dress on over it, I’m not kidding when I say I felt like a Disney princess. I had always wondered how people made their dresses so fluffy and had always wanted to wear a poofy skirt and here it was. I later was able to finish the look with some jewelry that I got that matched the color (I researched 1860’s jewelry a lot to make it match the time period as closely as possible), got my gloves, and some slippers that later turned out to be little torture devices (keep these in mind for later).

Okay, enough about my outfit. On to the day of the ball.

The day started with frantically rushing to get to the event center early so I could be registered and not be late for the dance class. I live about an hour away from where the ball was held, and my family and I left at about 8:40. The registration, according to the day’s schedule, lasted from 8:00-9:30 and at 9:30, the dance class would begin so I was afraid that I would be late. We got there, parked, and I rushed inside. There were a ton of people there and only two of them that I recognized from church. I put on my paper wristlet showing that I was supposed to be there and my dad and brother left for the car to return in a few hour to pick me up and take me home so I could change into my dress.

I checked the time on my phone. It was 9:30, registration was still going, and it seemed like dance classes were never going to begin. I asked Maria when the dance class would begin, and she said that it would be starting for another 40 minutes or so. Apparently, I was actually super early.

40-or-so minutes later, dance classes started. A tiny old lady that looked like a strong gust of wind could blow her over dressed in all black except for her light-teal sneakers walked out onto the stage that was on the back of the ballroom. Welcoming us to the ball, she explained that she was our dance instructor, why the balls were held in the Civil War period and instructed us to stand in two lines, with girls on the left side of the room, and boys on the right, facing us. However, since there were so many of us, the room was basically split into quarters by the two lines of boys and the two lines of girls. The girls also outnumbered the guys by at least three to one, which meant that some girls had to stand with the boys, so everyone had a partner.

The dance instructor climbed down from the stage and explained that what we were doing was called the Grand March and was basically the fashion show portion of the ball, where we would parade ourselves around in our dresses and uniforms. At first, we went single file, following the person that had been at the head of the room before turning around, going back to the head and linking arms with our escort. From there, we gradually formed a human chain and after we had formed a line of four couples, we gradually broke off until we were in single file again before starting the next dance.

For the sake of time, I’m not going to bore you with all the details of the dance class. I’ll just sum it up by saying that people were tripping over themselves, getting confused, some were complaining that they didn’t have a boy to dance with, and with that, we somehow managed to learn that night’s dances, which we seemed to all forget the instant we left for lunch.

When I arrived at the ball that night, the entrance was a blob of colorful dresses over massive hoopskirts and guys dressed as soldiers, cowboys, gentlemen, etc. I set the bag containing my regular clothes on a chair in the ballroom and walked into what had been the girl’s changing room where we were all lining up to be introduced with an escort to the people at the ball. Moving around in their reminded me of when you look under a microscope and see a bunch of single-celled organisms trying to move between each other. A claustrophobe would’ve been having a panic attack.

At this point, my feet were beginning to hurt. Remember those slippers that I said were torture devices? Well, I had worn them to church on Christmas Eve, and that experience was unpleasant to say the least. Though they fit, the only just fit. My toes were at the very front of the shoe and the back was biting into my heel, causing and ripping a blister. Knowing this, I decided to take precautions, putting Band-Aids on my heels where they were mostly likely to get hurt and putting on no-show socks with grips on the heel to keep from sliding. However, that did not keep my toes from getting jammed and later pain down the road.

I chatted with the other girls for a little bit and was finally escorted out and introduced. The ball went as we had practiced during dance lessons, but it was after the Grand March that I realized that something was wrong. My slippers were intent to cause me pain. From walking, my sock had slid away from my heel and the slipper had rubbed away the Band-Aid. Already, there was a blister forming and I was in for a fun, but painful night. The high heels that some of the girls were teetering around on were starting to look more comfortable. I’m never wearing those shoes again.

I kept dancing despite the growing discomfort, and as Maria had predicted, I matched several other girls. In fact, most of the girls had at least 3 twins in the crowd, so there was almost a sense of comradery, like we had all gotten the memo to get the same dress but try to make it our own through getting a different color, doing our hair in a different way, or accessorizing. In fact, there was a group of at least 14 girls that had grouped together during the punch break for the main reason that they were wearing the exact same dress.

The dancing continued late into the evening finally came to an end around 9:40. I was tired, but happy. After changing out of my dress and into some normal clothes, I got in the car and headed to the In-N-Out Burger that my friends and I (and apparently the rest of the dancers from the ball judging from how many of them showed up there) were meeting at.

Now for my review of In-N-Out. This was my first time ever going there, and while it’s a bit expensive depending on what you get, with my total amounting to about $15, it’s worth it for the amount of food you get. Unlike with a fast-food joint like Burger King or MacDonald’s, In-N-Out’s burgers actually look like how they’re advertised. They’ll hold you over for a while instead of making you wonder where the rest of the burger went. The only thing I have to complain about is the fact that it took somewhere between 10-15 minutes before my order was ready for pick-up and the fact that their iced tea tasted off. Maybe it’s because I didn’t put ice in it (I’ve heard that ice machines are disgusting and aren’t cleaned often), so it was lukewarm, maybe the sweetener was just gross, or maybe it was where the tea came from, but didn’t taste right. If you go to In-N-Out, I don’t suggest getting the tea.

And that concludes my experience at the Civil War Ball. Would I go again? Heck yeah. But never with those evil slippers. I’ll wear boots or something like that next time.

Until next time,

M.J.