THE United States discovered teenagers a long time before they arrived on these shores, as the magazines our Stateside friends and relations used for wedging things firmly into their generous food parcels showed our strictly rationed world.

These alien, but wonderful, creatures finished school for the day at about the time we were starting afternoon lessons, wore jeans and make-up and went on "dates" to drive-in movies when they could borrow "Pop's" car.

Such cars, too. Forget small black, or even dark green or blue, Austins and Morrises. These were red and blue and yards long, with chrome everywhere chrome could be put and names like Chevrolet and Oldsmobile.

At the end of their days at Grade School, these teenagers had graduation ceremonies, with mortar boards and scrolls and formal photos - and then a sort of ball, which they called a prom. For a prom, the vital accessory was a tuxedo-clad partner, who would call for his girl, bearing an orchid corsage, which she promptly pinned to her full-skirted, low-necked evening dress.

Oh boy! How different from the home, or even school, life of the average British 13-18-year-old in the Forties and Fifties. Dinner jackets and evening dress? Carrying flowers? Wearing flowers? They'd have died (of embarrassment) first.

Even when rock and roll allowed teenagers to emerge over here, it was to be another five decades before we got round to the prom. We haven't yet got round to the graduation ceremonies, mortar boards and parchments, largely, I expect, because leavers have gone long before the exam results come out.

Schools with sixth forms had prefects' balls - more best suits and party dresses than formal togs, but a partner was still vital, or you sat out all night. Chivalry wasn't just dead, it was six feet under.

When our school had one, I chose to stay in the kitchens as part of the refreshment team which, if I'd only realised it, would set the pattern for adult life, too. If I have social talent, it's for dogsbodying.

Now, in the twenty-first century, we've finally got round to the prom for those biting their nails until the GCSE results come out in August. And we're doing it properly. I've seen the photos, and the "hire your prom outfit here" signs in shop windows.

Dare I, in these days of super-casual clothes, hope that having a prom and dressing for it will instil into these 16-year-olds a habit of dressing up for big occasions? Looking your best isn't only morale boosting, it's common courtesy to the hosts or organisers.

Maybe the lads will even shame their dads into putting on a bit of style themselves when they see what a dinner jacket does for a son they thought was a dead ringer for Bart Simpson.

It is, I'm afraid, the male of the species which really needs the jolt. I'm not suggesting DJs all round, but I might whisper: "Ties".

Look round the average social event and, unless it's the sort of club which goes in for formality, the women will be in their best and full war paint; the men will be hard-put to boast a decent shirt and tie between the lot of them.

Maybe we women would rather be in casual trousers and a polo shirt, too, but dressing up implies the bash is worth making an effort for and we might, just might, think about how our outfit will score when women confer in the "Ladies".

Come on chaps, never mind implying that it's not much of a do anyway; madam has done her best and deserves an escort who looks as if he's at least tried