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by D.M.Z. THE BALL GOWN FROM THE DIARY OF A UKRAINIAN HOUSEWIFE In my mother’s day an engineer was a better catch than a doctor. This, of course, was in the thirties, back “ home” in Halychyna. Engineers were men of technol ogy and modern science; they liked cars, talked of rockets and space, found politics boring. After the war, when the dust settled and we came to live in the United States, engineers were first to get better jobs because a science background provided them with marketable skills. Before long, these emigre engineers had formed a professional organization with chapters in major Ukra inian communities. Eventually, the Philadelphia chapter of the Ukrain ian Engineers’ Society began a tradition — the annual Engineers’ Ball. After the horrors of the war, after being uprooted and enduring a long refugee migration, after the culture shock of resettling in a new country, the Engineers’ Ball was one of the signs that life was going to be alright again, that there was something to celebrate. What a thrill it was for the ladies of my mother’s generation to have a chance to wear an elegant gown to real ball again. For one evening, they were Cinderellas waltzing around a Philadelphia ballroom — reminising about their youth and the festive dances in Lviv. This ball was the real thing — a proper invitation, evening attire requested, and expensive by the economic stand ards of the Ukrainian community. But it was worth the cost and the key thing for each of the ladies, young, middle-aged, or elderly, was the grown. Dating was just becoming acceptable in the new Ukrainian community, and to be asked to the Engineers’ Ball was better than being asked to a school prom. When I was asked to this ball, I had to travel to Phila delphia and be properly chaperoned by an aunt. My gown was made by my mother. Like the chaperon aunt, my gown was very fit and proper with puff sleeves, a high neck and a satin bow. My mother thought it was a lovely “ pink”, but I like it because it rustled. I was seven teen and at that age the gown was not as important as the date. He just had to be divine. My young man was very nice, he had studied engineering, of course, and he gave me a large corsage of gardenias. In that old Ben Franklin Hotel Ballroom in Philadelphia, I was Alice in Wonderland, mesmerized by the elaborate gowns of every color and style. It did not matter that my gown had been made by my mother — my date was a wonder ful dancer and I was determined to have a great time. Being from out of town, I was carefully looked over the ladies’ presidium from behind the buffet table, a peculiar tradition of the Engineers’ Ball or any other Ukrainian ball for that matter. A buffet of colorful canapes and an array of homemade tortes was always set up. Gentlemen would pick up platters of each for the guests at their table, making a “donation to the cause.” These goodies were prepared and served by lady volun teers. There was a divine reciprocation for their dedica tion since these ladies were in the position to observe everyone at the ball. Thus, they were able, the morning after, to give a detailed report to the rest of the Ukrain ian community on the style, color and texture of eve ryone’s gown. When my young man became my husband and I started going to the ball as a married lady, I decided to make my own gown. I worked on it for weeks. Both my lack of sewing skills and the importance of the event made this a valiant effort. I was not a school girl any more, but a real “ пані інжінерова” . Not quite sure what it was that а “пані інжінерова” was expected to do, I mimicked my mother, had my hand kissed and did not mention that my gown was homemade. It was at about this time that a “new” tradition emerged at the Engineers’ Ball — the presentation of debutantes. The first time, it was quite spontaneous. Several young ladies were introduced and they bowed to the guests gathered at the Ball. This was found to be insufficiently festive. So in came the white deb ball gowns and the parade of young girls in their white gowns became the highlight of the annual affair. One year I was asked to officiate at the presentation of the debutantes and it was for this event that I pur chased my first gown in a popular Philadelphia bou tique. This gown became my special memorabilia. It was purchased the year my daughter was born. The elegant boutique was selling it for half price and it made me look good even after I had given birth to two child "HALUE ЖИТТЯ”, СІЧЕНЬ 1995 17
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