The first step to getting the perfect 80s prom dress is to start the hunt when you don’t need it. The thrift store and Salvation Army gods are not merciful enough to align the stars with your party apparel needs. It’s best to stockpile items as you see them. So, the perfect time to stumble upon that one-of-a-kind sequined atrocity is when you need anything but a girl’s former dream dress. Instead, you should be shopping for jorts, giant flannels or a t-shirt from someone’s family reunion 26 years ago.

Step two, wear baggy clothes that erase all traces of your femininity and what exists of your self confidence. Bind your hair in a messy bun that teeters off the side of your head and forget about makeup. This way, compared to your frumpy state, anything on the rack is more likely to improve your depraved appearance.

Step three, pick up friends who will encourage strange behavior. On the way to the thrift store, do something peculiar as a way to mentally prepare yourself for whatever you may encounter at the Salvation Army. When you come across those outrageous poofy sleeves and rainbow fish bling, you’ll be more apt to fight for the dress that  you don’t need, but cannot live without. As my friends and I careened through suburbia, I slammed on the brakes in the middle of the climax of “Come On Eileen”  when I saw a treasure sitting in an alley.

“Guys, look at that door.” It was perfectly rustic and looked like the double doors my sister and I had once sold in an unsupervised garage sale out of our carport in Arizona. A conniving soccer mom had taken advantage of our youthful ignorance to the cost of decorative doors and their versatility in interior design, and bought them at half their worth. But here I was, older and more knowledgeable about the value of a good freestanding door. And there it was, sitting peacefully by the trash in an alley – my long sought after redemption.

“I need that door.”

“Let’s go ask for it.”

“Is that creepy?”

“It would be if we were creepers.”

Feeling confident that we weren’t creepers, we parked down the street and approached the front of the house. “Can we have that door sitting in your alley?” The soccer mom who answered the door was nervous. There were more of us then there were of her, unless you counted the bundle of toddlers running amuck inside her home. Weighing the options in her head, she saw that resistance was futile. She knew her kind had betrayed me before and she would not escape judgment.

“Yeah, you can take it.”

“Thank you for your cooperation.” We ran victoriously to our spoil. We got on both sides to carry it into our vessel. Picking it up, we realized it was a giant, heavy door.

“It's too heavy. I don’t want it.” We left it in the alley.

Step four, when you arrive at the thrift store, channel the impracticality and spontaneity you tapped into from whatever peculiar activity you decided to do as part of step three. Before the door in the alley, I was looking for something Mardi Gras themed for a Mardi Gras date party. After the door, I was looking for anything fabulous for a Mardi Gras themed date party. With my horizons broadened and my imagination stretched, I found it – royal blue and covered with plastic sequins that became diamonds on the dance floor, tight fitted with giant lofty shoulders. This dress was a girl from the 80s prom paradise. Three decades later it would be my Mardi Gras dream dress.

Step five, go to the dressing room. Put on the dress. Release your hair from the messy nest atop your head. Look in the mirror and feel fabulous and feminine in comparison to the frumpy sweats that had previously swaddled your body.

Step six, as you stand in line to purchase the dress, make sure the elderly woman behind the counter overhears you rave about the dress. You need to channel the frumpy girl with the side bun, walk with a slouch that suggests low self esteem and keep your eyes locked on the dress in your hand with a gentle smile. When you get close enough say, “I’ve never felt beautiful before today… in this dress.” The woman behind the counter will overhear your tragic story, see your homely appearance, and give you the dress for half off.

Step six, don your out-of-place outfit for any date party, flaunt your cheep swag and shrill, “This Is My Song,” when they play "Thrift Shop" by Macklemore.