Tag: Ballet

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Cadbury-Induced Tummy Pudge

After my two lessons this week I now realize how horrendously out of practice I am. Two weeks away from the studio for a beginning dancer is a serious recipe for failure. Before doing any lifts, I warned Pasha that all the Cadbury bars and black pudding I’d consumed in Blackpool had put serious pounds on me and when he frowned I pointed to my stomach, which has now developed a round little mass of pudge. Pasha is Russian (obviously) and thus given to brutal honesty, and he basically responded, oh that, that’s always been there… yes, everything is the same. Argh! I knew I didn’t have a completely flat stomach, but didn’t know it was that obvious… am beginning to think your dance partner knows your body better than anyone, including boyfriend… I also told Pasha about my toe, he asked if it was serious, I said no, just another stupid injury requiring yet more ice and Advil, and he shrugged his shoulders and said, we all live in pain; if it’s not falling off or cancer, you ignore it. Okay, am slowly learning the dancer way of life…

I’m really nervous about the upcoming performance though, because I seem to have forgotten: where my center is, how to spot, how to move my hips properly (without disconnecting them from my upper back and jutting them out too much) , can’t do a simple spin without wobbling all over myself . . . everything. And, I need to cancel my lesson next Wednesday with the immensely popular and hence impossible to re-book Pasha because I must go to ABT. Vladimir Malakhov is performing for practically the only time this season, and as I think he’s one of the two greatest male dancers in the world right now (the other being Jose Carreno, who is performing a splendid many times with ABT!), I must not miss it. I’ll just have to kill myself with ballet classes until October because, though it’s not Latin, ballet is ESSENTIAL to training in any kind of dance.

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Big Fat Ugly Toe

Embarrasingly, I broke down and went to the podiatrist yesterday for stupid toe pain and swelling. Two weeks ago when I was in the studio with Pasha I suddenly felt this horrible surge of pain surge through my right big toe and, after the severe pain went away, it kept hurting. I thought I may have a splinter from the hardwood floor, but when I got home I looked and looked and couldn’t find anything in my toe or shoe. It continued to hurt off an on all the way through Blackpool. So the doctor took an x-ray and verified there’s no splinter or glass. But what I do have is a bone spur, an inflammation surrounding the bone, caused by pressing down too hard on the bone. So, how am I supposed to point or go up on high releve, onto the tips of my toes??? Doc says I’ll need to ice it regularly and take Ibuprofin when pain gets bad, and possible Cortizone injections may be in my future.

So, I have only been dancing two years now and this is my injury list thus far: tendonitis in both hips, bursitis in both hips, partially torn meniscus in right knee, strained left adductor muscle, partially torn ligament in left wrist, tendonitis in right thumb (latter two are due, I kid not, to guys in class holding me too hard — and my hand surgeon made me promise I would either learn to be more assertive and tell my classmates not to manhandle me so roughly or else I’d have to stop with the group classes and only take private lessons with pros), and now this bone spur in my big toe. I don’t know how professional dancers do it. I only dance a couple of hours a day!

Yesterday on my way home, I ran into an old friend from my former studio, Brittania, who told me she’s competing for the first time with her teacher at the upcoming Manhattan Dancesport Championships, which brightened my day because I was starting to get depressed from Blackpool being over and getting back into my daily grind, when she reminded me of this fabulous competition coming up over 4th of July weekend. This was one of the first I attended and is what made me really fall in love with the idea of competing. All of the best pro dancers in the country are there, as it’s the most prestigious comp in the mid-Atlantic region. It’s at the Marriott in Brooklyn Heights (despite the competiton’s name…) and much more will be posted closer in time!

While talking with Brittania, I saw Doug Liman (director of Swingers, Go, and Bourne Identity movies), which excited me because, before dance overtook my life and I was a big movie-goer, I used to have a crush on him — partly because he went to my alma mater and his father was a big bleeding-heart do-gooder attorney. My friends make fun of me because I have been known to practically bump right into, without recognizing, people like Gwynneth Paltrow and Wesley Snipes (Gwynneth was incognito and my friend only recognized her by her sunglasses, which she saw her wearing in Vogue, but Wesley was actually filming and thus surrounded by cameras and crew!), but then I’ll recognize a behind-the-scenes director walking down the street, or a ballet dancer like Herman Cornejo on the subway…

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Gorgeous Latin Guys Doing Big Huge Jumps, Oh My!

Last two nights I’ve been at the ABT — Monday night was their opening night gala, and they performed several smaller ballets and parts of ballets the company is going to be performing this season. What a dream 🙂 Angel Corella is just the king of charisma, and Jose Carreno is so amazing he completely steals the show whenever he’s onstage! And, Marcelo!! And, last night was called “Noche Latina” — they did Le Corsaire, a silly ballet but one with loads of cute guys dressed as pirates and donning goatees doing enormous jumps… And they had all the Latin dancers in the main roles to showcase the amazing Latin talent. But, horrendously, no Marcelo… I guess not enough roles for all of that Latin talent…

I love going to these ballets — and seeing all kinds of dance performances — because I think it is so important for dancer wannabes, like me, to watch the dancers very carefully. You pick up so much just really looking closely at them. But the ABT is so theatrical (I guess, hence their name — American Ballet Theater) and they put on such a show, I tend to get carried away in the spectacle of it all. So, I think it’s easier to focus on the dancers when I go to the New York City Ballet. You can get a Fourth Ring Society membership to the NYCB and sit up in the fourth ring for only $15 a performance, which is an amazing deal. And, if you sit on the sides you’re practically right on top of the dancers — I mean, way way on top, but I find I can see them very well, even without opera glasses.

I love this time of year because both ballets are in season simultaneously, and there’s never a dull moment. But, ugh, I’ll have to tear myself away for a bit soon, because I’m going to …. Blackpool!

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Can it Be — Evil Latin Stilettos May Not Be All Bad?

I had an oral argument in court on Friday morning and was running late, so I just pulled out from my closet the top-most box of shoes that resembled pumps. (I keep all of my shoes in boxes on my closet floor — a trick taught to me by my first real, born ‘n bred New Yorker friend as the best way to maximize closet space). Anyway, I haven’t been to court in a while and these turned out not to be my usual chunk-heeled Kenneth Coles, but a pair of three-inch stick-heeled Banana Republic pumps I bought in SoHo last year only because they were on extreme sale and I needed brown. Afraid as I was of embarrasing myself by wobbling, if not actually falling, in the courtroom on my way to the podium, I didn’t have time to dig more sensible shoes out from the pyramid, so I popped them on and fled. Amazingly, running to the subway I felt my posture actually improving — slight turn-out of hips elongating leg (in Latin turn-out is 45 not 8000 degrees!), shoulders down and back, abdominals tucked in and up — I didn’t feel the least unsteady. Once ensconsed on the subway seat, I thought about my newfound balance and figured it must be the evil latin shoes. Not only has trying so hard to dance in them apparently made me able to walk in the average stiletto, but a simple reminder of dance seems automatically to improve posture!

Funnily, I think I am begining to have a thing with Jonathan Roberts (previous entry) — while sitting in the courtroom waiting for my case to be called, I noticed that one of the appellate District Attorneys (our adversaries) looks just like him! Grrr…

Speaking of Ballroom, I took the first steps toward packing for Blackpool this weekend by digging my passport out of my “important papers” drawer. Actually, I took more than that; in an effort to avoid being lectured ad nauseam by my mom, who is a Planner (ie: literally packs weeks before a trip and is always nagging me, exactly the opposite and thus always having a nervous breakdown the night before), and took out a suitcase and started tossing in things I knew I’d need. Wrong. I have a ticket to the American Ballet Theater’s opening night gala tomorrow night and am sitting in nosebleed section, so just went to retrieve my opera glasses to put in my handbag. I looked and looked and looked; they were nowhere. I panicked — they were $80, I must have left them at the New York City Ballet on Friday night I thought, should I call the State Theater, no they only have a matinee on Sunday and must be closed and anyway someone probably just kept them… I frantically searched some more before finally realizing they were in my suitcase. Okay, no more “planning” — I’ll be waiting til Wednesday night, thank you very much!

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Physical Therapist is Pissed About Pot-Stir

Just got back from physical therapy. When I limped in, my therapist had this bewildered look. “Oh no, what happened?” she said.

“No, nothing to my injury,” I said (I have a partially torn meniscus in my right knee likely caused by unconsiously forcing turnout from the knees in ballet since I’ve developed both tendonitis and bursitis in both hips, making it hard to turn out from the proper place — the hip joints). “My thigh is just a little sore from a new thingy I was doing in my Latin lesson last night.”

“Show me,” she said, frowning.

When I illustrated how I was sitting butt half an inch from the floor, balancing on the ball of my left foot, right foot off floor and pointed, while Luis whipped me around repeatedly, she screamed, “What? That’s totally hard on your knees. Hello, you have a knee injury!”

After lecturing me about dancing at all until I healed, then about ever dancing more often then every other day even after the meniscus healed because of my ongoing tendonitis and perpetually tight IT band (still not completely sure what that is), she finally said I could do the spin if I promised to do it only on the left leg and even then be very very careful and not practice it for half an hour at a time.

But if I limit my dancing to every couple of days, only an hour or two a day and then don’t practice difficult things, obviously I’ll never improve. And I can’t wait for an injury to heal if it’s tendonitis, which never heals and can cause other problems. It really makes me feel for people like Kristin Sloan (from NYCBallet) and other professional dancers who have ongoing or recurring injuries because how are they supposed to limit their dancing time? How can anyone limit their dancing time!!

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Stand Over Me, Spread Your Legs, and Squat

With directions like this I know I am not in ballet-class anymore…

I have put my frustrations at seeing myself on video aside and am now hard at work on my next showcase, set for October. Am doing another Rhumba with Pasha (similar routine, hopefully A LOT more polished this time). And, I’ve decided to do a Salsa with another teacher, Luis, as well. Actually, since I’ve chosen “Oye” by Gloria Estefan as my music (which, having no sense of rhythm, I didn’t realize was way too fast for salsa — we tried but looked a bit like gerbils), so we’re doing a Latin combo and putting everything into the mix — cha cha, merengue, samba, salsa/mambo (for slower parts), and even paso — which I think is going to be a lot of fun. I think. Luis is all excited — says he’s going to show people a different side of me, that I really can let loose.

Oh.
He’s already having me practice these huge hair flips and crazy body rolls that begin up at the shoulders and quickly inch their way down the torso to end in a kind of Samba-y butt-sticking-way-out squat (apparently he doesn’t think my lack of butt will hinder my ability to perform this). And the trick that’s mentioned in the title above is actually a lot more enticing than it sounds. I stand, back arched over him while he does this sexy Latin lunge. I have to splay my legs, because it they’re daintily together, I’ll never maintain my balance. Thing is — you have to love male dancer / choreographers: — I can barely do this without losing balance in flat jazz shoes; he apparently thinks I’m going to be able to do it as well it in the insane 3-inch Latin stilettos the evil powers that be who originated ladies Latin shoes force us to wear.

Well, I am game… nothing can be worse than last time!!

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I Can Never Be a Ballerina Because…

… not because they can do about 3,645 fouettés in a row or chaîné all the way across a football field-sized floor or balance their entire weight on a point about the width of a dime on their big toe. I can never be a real ballet dancer because I can’t sew. Seriously and sadly. Not that I could ever do the other abovementioned things of course, but you’d think sewing would be pretty basic. Not for me. The clerks at Bloch’s honestly laughed at me when they sold me the shoes and sewing kit and elastics and I insisted I’m a lawyer and will never be able to do it myself and please just tell me where I can find a good ballet shoe sewer, assuring me it would be no problem, they had faith, everyone can do it, children can do it for gods’ sakes… I was up all last night with the damn things. The supposedly handy dandy little Bunheads kit did not explain how to thread the needle, make knots, make the closure, and stitch through the tough tough TOUGH leather. It took me hours, and though I did it, I don’t at all trust my work. I’m sure tonight in class my elastics will go shooting and hit some poor student or teacher in the eye or something.

When I called my mom to enlist her help, I could hear her eyes rolling. She’s long given up telling me that my lack of traditional female skills are at least partly responsible for you know what. Nope, I have none and never have. For the past six months Con Ed has been sending me warning notices that my meter may not be properly connected since it shows no gas usage whatsoever. And I remember in grad school my boyfriend was always expressing disgust with the sloppy apartments maintained by both me and my best friend and fellow female grad student. Many of my current female friends – most of whom are lawyers or other professionals – are just as hideously lacking. Yet, the single men I know, not so much. Not at all really. Do we just not have the time for such trifles, or are subconsciously acting out against a stereotype that’s really pretty much defunct now anyway.

And, now that I think of it, at one ballet studio I go to, most of whose patrons I think I can assume are professional women, I regularly see shoes with only one side of the elastic sewn, the other dangling, causing the foot to lift out of the shoe and the student obviously to lose balance, or one side of the elastic sewn horrendously crookedly, one end attached mid-foot, the other at, like, the heel, etc. You definitely don’t see such things at, for example, Broadway Dance Center. And, one of the reasons I like the first studio is that the students are like me – i.e.: not professional dancers, unlike those who, for example, take Ballet for Absolute Beginners at Steps, either for practice, or to freak out people like me. But, as I’ve always been told from the time I first began applying to college, it’s largely your fellow students who will make your education.

Ugh, so I guess if well-sewn shoe equates with real dancer, I will have to overcome my probable subconscious-reaction-against-a-now-defunct-stereotype. There’s a time for learning everything…

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I May Be a Latin Dancer But I am Not a D Cup!!!

Yikes. My showcase is in two days and my dressmaker is just now making the dress. I had wanted a ballet-style dress, much in the style of the gown Alessandra wears in the balcony pas de deux in Romeo and Juliet. But the fabric she chose, while beautiful, does not seem to be conducive to that style – or else she’s not sure exactly how to make it, being a Latin dressmaker. But the weirdest thing is that she seems to want to put these humongous bra cups into it. I told her they were too big – I’m a petite person and a definite B cup and I’ll look like Pamela Anderson. But she insisted they are Latin cups, and are what are used in Latin. The Pamela Anderson look might work if the dancer was staying on the ground and remaining upright, but I’m doing theater arts stuff – I’m going to go shooting right out of that bra during my fish dive. A guy who saw her fitting me said, “Don’t worry, the guys will love it.” Yeah, right. But seriously, she would not put a smaller cup into the bra, said she didn’t have any, this was the smallest a Latin cup came. Then, she said, “And besides, Latin women are proud of their bodies.” What? I’m not not proud – I’m just not a D. She finally said if I found other cups she’d be amenable.

So, next day at work, I called the ballroom dress store LeNique. An Australian guy answered. Embarrassed, I asked him if they sold bra cups. He said no, they had their own supply for their own dresses but didn’t sell them individually, although he thought some place in the Garment District did. I asked him if he knew where that place was, and he began thumbing through a phone book. Very nice guy. I felt badly about asking him to recommend another retailer, so I mumbled, “I’m sorry, it’s just that it’s kind of an emergency.” My office-mate started cracking up, and cried, “Help, I have a blind date tonight and he thinks I’m a double D; I need stuffing fast.” I shushed her, but LeNique guy overheard and started laughing. Anyway, he did end up finding a place for me in the Garment District – so thank you LeNique guy! I went on my lunch hour, and they had every cup size imaginable. Their cups actually looked a bit small. So I bought one B and one C. I mean, one pair of each, of course… I brought them to my dressmaker, and she rolled her eyes, and said they were not the right shape – too circular, instead of demi, and repeated that they weren’t Latin. She finally said she’d use whatever I wanted at this point.

I don’t think the dress is going to work out because the material’s just not right. But I still don’t get the Latin versus ballet thing – every Latin dancer is the same cup size? Stacey Keibler’s cups were smallish, weren’t they?

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Be Careful Whom You're Rude to in New York, Or, Do Not Try to Pick Up a Woman Engrossed in Marcelo Gomes's Butt

During intermission at the New York City Ballet a few nights ago, I was browsing through their gift shop and spotted this large colorful book filled with juicy photos and bios of several ABT and NYCB dancers. Looked enticing, especially for a huge ballet fan. But it was expensive, and with all the money I spend on Ballroom, I’m forced to be a total cheapskate in all of my other leisure spending. So, I figured the next time I had nothing to do, I’d go to Barnes & Noble, camp out on the floor and flip through it.

When my plans for Saturday night were cancelled, that’s just what I did. Whilst sitting cross-legged on the floor (since of course there’s never a free Café chair) contemplating a glossy photo of Marcelo Gomes’s naked backside, I heard this voice above me say, “what ya readin’?” I looked up at the guy to see if he was someone I might know from dance (since I see people from my studio from time to time in the dance section), but he wasn’t; he was this weirdly nerdy guy with a cowlick at his crown and horrible posture. I said it was a book about ballet and he barked, “Ballet? Why?” making me feel defensive. I wasn’t interested in talking to him, so I just kind of hunched further down into the book. He continued looking at me for several seconds, then picked up a music score and plopped down next to me. But I could see him looking at me out of the corner of my eye and felt a bit uncomfortable, especially given the story of poor Imette St. Gillen. You really can’t be too careful right now, you know.

I bent my head down deeply into the mesh screen covering Marcelo, only to sense now another guy on my opposite side, peering down at me. “How do you like that book?,” this one said. Okay, has B&N become the new pickup scene? Or is it just the dance section, because I never get this kind of attention in fiction… I shrugged and mumbled, “Dunno, I just picked it up,” poking my head further into the protective haven that Marcelo’s butt was becoming. But this one chuckled and said, “Well, it’s my book, that’s why I was asking, just wanted to know what you thought.” I looked up at him, not knowing whether to take him for real, and he laughed, seeming to pick up my vibe, then was gone. I flipped to the book’s credits page with pictures of the contributors – a dance critic, the photographer Roy Round, and the publisher who put it all together – and sure enough, he was the latter. Guess he was checking out the stock. His bio looked interesting — he’s actually a lawyer with a keen interest in dance and publishing — hmmm, sounds familiar. He was much older, but he would have been interesting to talk to. Damn, missed my chance. Guess it pays to look and think before making yourself unapproachable — you never know whom you’re going to meet in New York! While exercising due caution, of course.

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Uptown Women Have No Bodies

Very annoyed. Many of my friends and family are crazed Dancing With the Stars watchers. So, I figured I’d let them know about the PBS special America’s Ballroom Challenge, a televised event that occurred at the Ohio Star Ball in November last year, in Columbus Ohio, which I attended and in which my teachers competed (and made the finals!). Anyway, the first half of it aired a few days ago. I asked everyone what they thought. One person exclaimed that obviously Dancing With the Stars must have unearthed the best-looking dancers and it was really hard to watch such homely people, even if their costumes were lovely. Another remarked that the beautiful ballroom gowns often conflicted with the dancers’ not so beautiful faces. Another said she couldn’t believe how fat most of the Latin dancers were and she’d never wear such a tiny costume. Another said she thought when the Latin dancers “squoze” their back muscles, the fat protruded, and she wouldn’t do that so much if she was them. (Because Latin dancing isn’t about really moving your body or anything…) I honestly have yet to hear one person tell me what they thought of the DANCING.

A few weeks ago, I attended a panel discussion on representations of the body in contemporary dance at the Dance Theater Workshop in Chelsea. All of the panelists, who were either choreographers or dance scholars, were total theory heads and I understood about a half of one percent of what they were saying. But one female scholar, was all too clear when she snidely remarked, “Well, up until recently dancers didn’t even have bodies, not to mention brains, and uptown they still don’t. Instead they have anorexia and bunions and nicotine addictions, since there’s no way you can remain 108 pounds without one.” Of course she was talking about ballet, and I don’t think she was talking about Jose or Marcelo or Angel. It was hard not to laugh at the way she said it, but the comment stung since I’m such a ballet lover, not to mention a petite woman. I assume the audience was filled with modern dancers, DTW being a modern dance theater, and I felt like everyone was looking at me as the representative of bodiless, brainless, male-dominated women – none of which I am just because I’m thin.

After thinking about it, I remembered that this scholar was tiny herself – couldn’t have possibly weighed over 108, if even that. And many of the critics of my fellow Latin dancers are large themselves. I guess it’s a form of female self-criticism to be most harsh on other women who seem to embody the physical problems we find in ourselves. Still, it bothers me that a female dancer’s worth seems to revolve around her body. It makes me feel like, what’s the point of working so hard on contracting and expanding my pelvis in Samba and my upper back and hips Rhumba if I’m just going to be the little spidery-limbed Balanchine girl.

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Jonathan Roberts stole my song!

Ugh, the nerve of him. Just kidding:) I’m set to perform my very first student / teacher showcase on March 11th and I worked so hard to find the perfect Rhumba song and help my coach and teacher to choreograph a very cool routine, only to turn on Dancing With the Stars last night and see Jonathan and Giselle have already had their way with Jessica Simpson’s remake of Take My Breath Away! Which is a problem for me of course because anyone who will be in my audience likely will be a ballroom fan and thus have religiously watched DWTS, and because Giselle is so gorgeous and such a wonderful dancer – especially for having studied it for like, two days… ugh, they will know how it’s really supposed to look! This is my first time performing on a real stage (albeit a small one) before a real audience (albeit a very small one) since I was about 9 years old and was in a school production of Swan Lake at Phoenix Symphony Hall. My adult stage fright seems to be about 300 times what it was then.

Oh well. Our routine will be different, to be sure, because, in my quest to fulfill my goofy dream of pretending to be ballet goddess Alessandra Ferri, I managed to coax the studio-owner coach (who does the choreography) and my poor teacher (who does the dancing) into putting several pretty lifts into ours – which the DWTS contestants were forbidden from doing. Why was that? Because they’re significantly harder for the male amateurs than the females, or because of age differences in the contestants? That’s my favorite part, man.

Anyway, I have to laugh at myself because over the past several months that I’ve been so immersed in the world of dance, I’ve heard ad nauseam complainants like, so and so stole my costume design, so and so stole my choreography… And, I’m always like, jeez, calm down. At work, we have a brief bank and continuing legal education meetings; we constantly borrow argumentative strategies and ideas from each other. And now, my first reaction upon seeing J & G’s routine is to have a nervous breakdown over the song!