Being lucky enough to wield two passports, people often ask me why I choose to live in grimy old Blighty when I could equally easily dwell in big, shiny, straight-toothed America. Fortunately, reasons abound. Here's today's: America is a place where even that most beloved rite of passage, the high school prom - night of a thousand Molly Ringwald movies, lost virginities, first booze-fueled vomiting jags - is not immune from the long arm of the law. The fashion police, that is. Literally.[Photo courtesy eqqman's Flickr photostream]
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