Edina High School, I write to you in a time of darkness to ask who made the oh so wise decision that our school dances should cost so much. No, not just the ticket prices, although some of those are clearly bordering on extortion. But the culture surrounding many of these events has made it relatively normal to drop an absurd amount of money on one night, pricing many out of the experience in the first place.

The hubbub around most school dances is less about actually being at the dance itself more so about the things you splurge on with the excuse of a fancy event. Many students put a ton of effort into getting expensive outfits they can flaunt. Now, I’m not gonna sit here, lie, and tell you that the outfits aren’t cute—some of them are! But was it really that much cuter than the one you bought three months ago, for the last dance? I’d wager it’s not, especially when dresses that don’t come with the seams already falling apart can easily run you over $50.

Obviously, you don’t only wanna wear those fancy clothes to a school dance and call it a day; that getup just has to be flaunted at a fabulous little restaurant after you take photos with all your friends to commemorate. Of course, you have to get a full meal at this restaurant. Wouldn’t want to go dancing on an empty stomach. McDonald’s or Perkins are reasonable choices and deserve their status as beloved staples in the high school community, but some brave souls choose to wander into a fancier establishment, perhaps even at the Galleria, and for that, they pay a hefty fee. $7 for an appetizer isn’t much, but stack that on top of a $10 entrée, and you’re looking at a conservative estimate of $20 if you’re tipping the bare minimum (which I will admit, some of you decided the one thing you wouldn’t splurge on is a tip). 

Dinner alone probably isn’t breaking the bank for most people. However, add that to the cost of your outfit and the $30 dollar ticket price, and you could be looking at $100 already spent before you even walk in the door of the activities center. 

 After you and your closest acquaintances have finished annoying your waiter by trying to split the check 20 different ways, you head towards the parking lot, where a beautiful chariot awaits. Nobody’s parents wanted to drive that many kids, so in front of you sits a party bus of the highest caliber. The speaker in the back might not work and you’ll have a headache an hour in, but it was $1,000 so how bad could it really be? 

Eventually, after everyone has taken another round of photos, you pull up to the dance, ready to boogie your heart out for the 15 minutes you can stand to be in the high school gym on a weekend. 

The night’s almost over, and your heart feels significantly lighter, as does your wallet. Standing on the outskirts of the mosh pit, I urge you to look over your fellow attendees. The people who could afford to drop this kind of money will stand around you, ready to flood your Instagram feed with the illusion that all of what you did tonight was necessary, and the kids who couldn’t shoulder the cost to participate in the whole affair haven’t bothered attending at all. 

This piece was originally published in Zephyrus’ print edition on October 12, 2023.