The Last To Fall

Gary and I have messed around, aka, mixed styles and/or discovered different ways to dance, with all of our dances except one: the foxtrot. We’ve always thought of the foxtrot as “formal” and therefore we shouldn’t play around with it.

I have to say the foxtrot has never been my favorite. Reverse poise isn’t comfortable for me, and it’s always seemed a bit stiff. But Gary does like it, even if he agrees on the stiff part, so I wanted to try again. Over the past week we both had a revelation. Gary reminded me that he hadn’t liked the chacha until he learned the Cuban variety. A light bulb went off. Maybe I WOULD like the foxtrot…if we could find another variety.

And we found one…1920's style. The foxtrot is an old dance. In the very early 1900s it was fast…hence the name. We didn’t want that. We have enough fast dances, and besides, where we dance foxtrot music is more sedate. Then we found the 1920’s variety. It’s slower, playful, danced close together, and no reverse poise. We both loved it.

But where to learn it? Well don’t you know, there’s a vintage dance group a couple of hours from us in Cincinnati. The Flying Cloud Troupe teaches all sorts of vintage dances, and they’ve agreed to instruct us. Woohoo! Let the foxing begin!

Dancing at the Knights of Columbus

Yesterday we had an opportunity to dance at a new venue, the North Side Knights of Columbus. The K of C (at least the one we visited) probably isn’t known for dancing. They had no proper dance floor, just a public school-grade linoleum on concrete deal with a stage fit for Easter pageants at the front of the room and a window into the bar fit for making those pageants tolerable at the back. The K of C is a social club with Catholic connections – the pope’s answer to the Elks, Masons, and other popular fraternal orders of the early twentieth century. Every time I dance at a place like the Moose Lodge I’m reminded that there was a day when insurance didn’t exist and these organizations through their membership fees provided a means to paying for disability, medical care, unemployment, and even burial expenses. It’s odd to think that, in a lot of ways, the 2000’s could use a resurgence of the fraternal orders. This is a blog about dancing, though, so I’ll stay away from musing on reconstructing society! As our favorite DJ often says, well…let’s dance.


So, as I mentioned, the floor was hard and slick and not well suited for anything involving athletic movement in suede-bottomed shoes. It seems to be that a place that’s not set up with a proper dance floor will necessarily lack sufficient space for dancing and the K of proved no exception. Somehow, in spite of the size of the room, adding tables and people equated to a jammed floor with many near collisions. I fall back on an early plea from the blog: if you’re dancing realize you’re not the ONLY person dancing.

Sure, there are accidents. Last night a very good dancer practically started off his EC swing between Kelly and me. I know he’s good and I know he’s very polite, so I chalk that one to a simple error. However, when six or seven couples do the same thing there’s something wrong. Not everyone on the dance floor is a clod so there must be some mystical energy, some occult phenomenon akin to the Bermuda Triangle that comes into play when dances are held in a space not intended for dance. Compasses spin, radios go haywire, and even the deftest of dance mavens find themselves left-footed and stumbling out of control. Their sense of propriety abandons them. Their knowledge of floor-craft becomes a fuzzy memory. Soon they’re tripping the light not-so-fantastic right across your big toe and putting their prodigious butt in your partner’s face.

I’m becoming enamored of bringing an exorcist to these cursed venues. A little holy water and incense, a few mumbled prayers, and out damned dance demons! Maybe we’d all be better dancers for the ceremony. The only problem is I would have figured the K of C would have some kind of stored up resistance, a Vatican vaccination handed down through organizational lineage. Eh, so much for that theory.

Fairy Makeup

Warning: Girl post.

I’ve done a post on fairy clothing…so here is the accompanying fairy makeup. Not a look for everyday, at least, not for me, but for a very special dance…yes! (For example, Halloween or one of those fairy balls located far, far away, sigh.) This woman is a hoot. I love the bad lightning rant.

Summer Doldrums

I wonder if dancing has a season. It seems to me that summer is the off season for dancing because there are so few signature events. No costume balls, no holiday flings, just day after hot day slowly ticking by. From personal experience I know that, in the days before there were vast air conditioned dance spaces all summer events (dance and otherwise) were held outdoors. Last summer we went to High Bridge, KY for an event at the High Bridge Pavilion. The venue was beautiful and it brought to mind visions of men in panama hats stepping off the train and making their way to the venue under the stars, arm and arm with their best girls. It’s a romantic vision and though some elements might be pretty right on, that rosy picture ignores some truths. For one, an August dance would be sweaty mess – one up-tempo swing, one hot Louis Armstrong or Benny Goodman number, and I’d be soaked. Sweat would be dripping from the tip of my nose and pooling in my shoes. Sure, you get used to the climate you live in but I’m pretty sure I’d never acclimate to that!

This realization came to mind last Saturday. We attended my niece Ruthie’s 18th birthday party in the clubhouse of the condo community where my in-laws live. The event was great – friends, relatives, music, and about a metric ton of sugar combined to while away a summer afternoon and send a lovely young girl on her way to womanhood and a life filled with grand adventures. There was a little dancing, maybe three or four turns on the dance floor, and still the sweat was rolling down my back and soaking through my shirt. The clubhouse was air conditioned but the heat index outside was 106 and Mother Nature always wins that battle.

Still, there are the weekly club dances – small events in small venues until fall arrives. This weekend we’re dancing the traditional haunts: Starlight Ballroom and Indiana Roof Ballroom. Every morning I get up and the sky’s a little darker and I’m reminded that fall is on its way and soon the dance season will reopen.

The Birthday Ball

My niece turned 18 last month. It is surreal. I remember when she was born and now here she is, all grown up and ready for college. Yikes.

Her parents (her mom is my sister), threw a fabulous party for her yesterday. It was really more than a party…more like a coming out soirée of old: loads of food, beautiful decorations, many guests, and dancing.

Gary and I discussed this morning how dancing used to be part of most parties; push back the rugs and furniture and go to it, ala The Christmas Carol or in all those beach party movies of the 50’s.

Since most people back then grew up with dancing, they at least knew a few steps of swing or slow dance. My dad said you "just got out there", and nobody cared if you were skilled or not. Not so today. There was plenty of dancing at Ruthie’s party, but only by people who “knew” how to dance. In fact, one guest, after watching Gary and me, said no WAY would I get out there after seeing you guys.

That made me feel sad. Yes, we know how to partner dance. We ought to…we’ve been taking lessons for over four years and we practice almost every day. Something would be very wrong if we couldn’t by now. But I hate to think we were intimidating others who might have gotten out there had we not taken to the floor.

What I hope is with the success of reigniting young people to dance, especially swing, hip-hop, and salsa, that over time this will change. And when I say change I don’t mean that people have to learn or dance any particular style, I mean that having been exposed to dance they will feel comfortable expressing themselves, whether that is some kind of formal dance, street dance, individual movin’ and groovin’…whatever.

But of course, dancing isn't the most important thing at a party...the people are. Ruthie was her beautiful and charming self. Her perfect hostess demeanor guaranteed everyone would have a good time, even if they didn't dance.

Oh to be the Aunt of such a child. Er, woman. Seesh.

West Coast with a Dash of Tango

I've done a post before about mixing tango steps into west coast swing...my interest has been renewed of late. This is because a dance studio here in town, The Riolo, teaches Argentina tango. The owner of the studio is an expert. But what really caught my eye was when she mixed in some tango steps into her west coast swing at a recent dance at The Riolo. Wow.

The below Argentina tango video isn't her, but I really like this couple. Those leg flicks are awesome. Marie (the owner of the Riolo) was doing something like that while dancing the WCS.

Another Shoe

No, not a dance shoe. But a wonderful, fabulous walking shoe that allows me to dance more, so I figured I'd throw it into the ring.

I have some joint problems. I’ve realized, sadly, just how precious my knees are. I baby them as much as possible, faithfully doing all the things my physical therapist told me to do.

I don’t have too many problems dancing, but I do with other sports. Not to go on and on, but I pretty much had to give up my other pursuits in favor of dancing. This was sad but OK, until I started to have pain walking. Walking is rather essential, even if you don’t hike miles and miles.

Until I found SKECHERS Shape-ups. They are wildly popular because they are supposed to make your butt look better. I don’t know about that, but what I CAN say is that they feel like walking on a cloud. And I have NO pain when I wear them! Which makes me want to dance more, since now I’m not worried about blowing out my knees.

They are rather clunky looking…my mom thinks they are strange…but honestly, they are the most comfortable daily shoes I have ever worn.

Cheaper, as always on Ebay.

Disappointment

Ever had one of those Official Red Rider BB Rifle moments? You know, the ones where you wake up early in the morning expecting that the gift you've been hinting after all year long will be waiting under the tree only when you rush down all you find is the horrible, pink bunny suit? Well, A Christmas Story references aside, we had one of them this past Saturday.

Through the day we'd planned on attending a rockabilly car show and dance in Nashville, IN. The car show was a bonus - something to while away an hour or so before strapping on the old suede soled shoes and working up a sweat. The real goal was a few hours on the hardwood at Mike's Dance Barn. In this part of the country it's hard to find a good, swinging dance where you can unwind to a little Jerry Lee Lewis or the likes. It doesn't seem like it'd be that hard to find rockabilly in Indiana - after all, half the country likes to think of us as hillbillies so you'd figure we'd at least have the appropriate music. However, quality bands and events are too few and too far between. So we were appropriately revved up when Saturday evening arrived and we headed south with visions of flat-hand pushes dancing in our heads.

And we arrived to find the dance hall closed. Well, not permanently closed but closed none the less. Dark and empty in spite of the fact that the fliers said dancing started at four o'clock and it was seven. I quick check revealed (to the best of my ability to translate) that the evening's acts had been cancelled (by who I couldn't decipher) and that there would be no dancing. We had dinner in Nashville and rode home in silence thinking of the dances in Indy we gave up in favor of travelling an hour south to the Dance Barn. It wasn't pretty.

So, Monday comes and here I am putting my disappointment on the web. I think we're swearing off events that seem as loosely organized as this past weekend's fiasco. I'd like to arrive with confidence that even if the bands aren't the best we'll have fun and get out on the dance floor. Unfortunately, it's becoming more and more obvious that there are certain events when you can't be assured that there'll even be a band!