"Emma, it's Karla. What the Hell do I wear for one of these things? Is it a ball? And what am I supposed to do with all this stupid face paint I have left over from the party? And...what the hell is this contraption? I don't think I remember buying this. Help!" The last part was wailed into the phone.

[Can be handwavy if you want, or I can post something. Just wanted to establish Karla's dependence on Emma for all things fashion.]