Closet case: the Opera Ball prom dress Society reporter Amber Elliott passes on a princess-y gown for prom, embraces the pouf for white-tie

Amber Elliott and Fady Armanious pose for a photo at Houston Grand Opera Ball 2017, Carnevale di Venezia at Wortham Theater Center Saturday, April 8, 2017, in Houston. Amber Elliott and Fady Armanious pose for a photo at Houston Grand Opera Ball 2017, Carnevale di Venezia at Wortham Theater Center Saturday, April 8, 2017, in Houston. Photo: Yi-Chin Lee, Houston Chronicle Photo: Yi-Chin Lee, Houston Chronicle Image 1 of / 33 Caption Close Closet case: the Opera Ball prom dress 1 / 33 Back to Gallery

Style-wise, I've always gone against the grain. My prom dress was no exception.

Shopping for "the one" was a big deal. My mother, late grandmother, and then 10-year old little sister piled into the family SUV for the schlep from Cypress to Tootsies' original Highland Village outpost. It was the real-life equivalent of that rom-com "coming of age" moment for an 18-year old girl from the 'burbs. Cue the bubble-gum pop track, please.

Most of my peers flocked to the specialty prom dress and wedding boutiques surrounding Willowbrook; or, out towards Katy for ripe selections of taffeta, organza, and bedazzled confections.

Not my mother. She instinctively knew, even back then, that I was destined to crave a bit of flash, a hint of pretense.

So, there we were, inside the loop, dressed in our Sunday best (despite actually being a Saturday). An equally formal sales associate escorted around the River Oaks-adjacent retail destination. And there I was, carefully editing my selection of tasteful, sophisticated prospects. No sequins, no beading, no halter necks – thank you.

The first dress I tried on – a sleek, buttercream whip of silk – was pure magic.

"This is it," I announced from the raised platform outside the dressing rooms.

"Are you sure that you don't want to try on something more... traditional? Just for fun?" my mother offered from her wooden seat. Across from an onslaught of full-length mirrors, she had the best seat in the house.

No, we decided. This was it.

My high school steady (whose prom-posal included dozens of bananas and a sign that read, "I'd go bananas if you'd go to prom with me!") gaped at my pale-yellow column of a gown. Only a handful of fellow Cy-Fair girls rebelled against Scarlett O'Hara-esque silhouettes that night at the Westin Galleria. (I know what you're thinking - how fitting, she attended prom inside of a mall. All puns intended.)

Then at age 31, I suddenly craved dress drama.

The Houston Grand Opera's annual ball is one of only two white-tie occasions on the Bayou City's social calendar. Tuxedo tails for men, long skirts for women are not suggestions; they are required. Both sexes may wear gloves.

But the 2017 theme, a Venetian masquerade, was next-level.

Invitations arrived in a foot-long box. Pertinent information – date, time, dress code – was scripted on pink, fully-feathered masks. The stakes were high.

I've hinted at this before, but I'm the type who story-boards an important #lewk. For an outfit of this magnitude, I spent several evenings meticulously pouring over "The World in Vogue: People, Parties, Places" and Nicholas Foulkes's "Bals: Legendary Costume Balls of the Twentieth Century" from my bathtub. Just ask my roommate; she endured the brunt of my inspiration-editing.

In the end, I marched back into Tootsies – we've both since relocated to Upper Kirby - two days before HGO ball armed with a single reference: Dakota Fanning's magnificent Carolina Herrera from the cover of the 2017 "Vanity Fair" Hollywood issue.

I instructed Fady Armanious – yes, I know that shopping with a store's creative director is privilege-personified – that I coveted blush hues and voluminous shapes.

He took one quick glance at the magazine image and replied, "Oh, we have that."

No, I did not wear Herrera, nor Elie Saab; though the frock he picked could have passed for either designer's aesthetic. Instead, we returned to the prom/special occasion section where a gloriously poufy, floral-appliqued ball gown took my breath away.

Remember, I'm now 30 (ish), flirty, and thriving ("13 Going on 30," anyone?); so, my ensemble required decidedly adult accessories. Christina Stith, another neighborhood fixture and close friend of mine, suggested an antique spider brooch and swinging vine earrings to cut the ensemble's sweetness.

After an unsuccessful trip to Exotic Caberet in Montrose for a mask, the lovely folks at High Fashion Fabrics helped me shear a piece of chiffon ala Kirsten Dunst in Sofia Coppola's "Marie Antoinette."

The result? Let's just say I'm waiting for my belated prom queen crown to arrive in the mail.