Nothing says Abstinence Forever like a puritanical Laura Ashley onesie. I wish I still had the frilly Peter Pan collar blouse I wore under it.
Yes, I wore this in high school as one of my go-to virgin comfort ensembles. But where was the most strategic place I wore it? To the after-prom breakfast. Because the best way to make sure people keep their hands off your V is making it inaccessible and dressing like a toddler. A senior asked me to prom my sophomore year, so I thought I was hot shit, until I realized his parents, who were friends with my parents, probably told him to ask me because he had no other prospects. He was the perfect gentleman and looked at me with something akin to fright. He didn't dare do anything improper, because it would surely be relayed to his parents before dawn.
I embraced religious cult attire throughout high school and even into my sexless college years. I partially blame my paternal grandmother who visited from Louisiana twice a year when I was growing up. She'd walk in the door in her polyester pantsuit, give me a once-over and say: "Now tell your Nanny, are you still pure?" I'd answer yes, and then she'd ask me to perform my rendition of the Enjoli perfume ad: "I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never let you forget you're a man." Cognitive dissonance at its finest.
I recently gifted the romper to Quinn, and with the conspicuous sideboob, I think she almost makes it work.