I have often wished that I could dance like a pro.
When I was a tiny child I took jazz, ballet and tap in turns, and loved it. Tap, though, just didn’t feel quite right for me somehow, long term. I wasn’t a tap girl.
I loooooooved jazz class. The costumes we wore for recitals were just 80’s-fabulous-out-of-this-world. I remember going through the catalog with my class and each one seemed better than the next – how we ever decided on one I don’t know.
My favorite was a skintight one-piece, like bike shorts for the whole body. It was hot pink, with black and white checks going down each side, and a matching hot pink with black and white checked newsboy cap. We wore little black jazz shoes and white socks. I still wish I had that outfit. We rocked it, shaking our hips and rolling on the ground in synch. I guess it sounds kind of… wrong. But I can assure you it was nothing but adorable and family friendly.
Anyway, I don’t know why I didn’t keep up with jazz, but ballet sort of ended my dance career. I am double jointed, and a stern lecture from our instructor about keeping my elbows straight when they naturally went into a wonky distended position was too much for my little ego, and I was done.
Spending as much time in New Orleans as I have these last months, I have seen a good deal of lindy hopping and I’m eager to get in on the action, one day. There are the most amazing dancers spending one night at one club, the next night at the one next door, just taking up with whoever is standing next to them, looking every bit the ’40’s-circa-’10 dancing fools that they are. I want to be like them.
My guess is I’ll need more than a catalog to look the part for that goal…
Until next time,