The Dancing Queen

If you didn’t get a chance to watch Kim Yu-Na win her gold medal in figure skating, find it on Youtube or NBC online. I, along with everyone else, hoped the best female skater in the world could deliver. Actually, I hoped everyone in the top six could do their best to make it a fair fight. And more or less, they did. There were some other wonderful skaters; one even completed a more complicated jump than Kim.

But Kim won by a huge margin.

And well deserved. She had it all. Technically competent of course. Speed, yes. Choreography, superb. Her movements were all finished right down to her fingertips; I don’t think I’ve ever seen a skater use their hands quite so beautifully. She herself is a lovely woman and wore the perfect costume.

But there is something else Kim Yu-Na has. I’ve seen “it” before. When I watch a crowd of dancers my eyes are drawn to those couple who have “it.” The dancers I enjoy obviously know how to dance, but my favorites always have something special, a sparkle that sets them apart. After seeing Kim skate last night I believe I understand it. They are tapping into the very essence of what they are doing. While Kim was skating I could see in her face she loved the music; every arc of her arm and tilt of her head interpreted the character she represented. She was lost in the performance, she was the performance. It was her individual expression, yet it was also a shared gift to her audience.

I felt the same way about Shawn White’s gold medal snowboard performance. Snowboarding is nothing like figure skating. But he has the same passion for his art as Kim does. His face is his blissful even when flying high over the half pipe.

You can call it whatever you want: touching nirvana, inspiration, passion, joy, love, Chevy Chase’s “be the ball”, the hand of god, the collective unconscious, whatever, but we all recognize it. When someone performs like that it reaches something deep, something primal, in all of us.

There are other Olympic examples, these two were my favorite. They have both inspired me even more to express who I am and how I feel in my dancing. I will never do a triple lutz or stand on a snowboard, let alone attempt any “tricks.” I will most likely never win a national dance competition. But I can be the best me I can possibly be, and more importantly, I can be unafraid to put it out there.

Thanks Kim Yu-Na. I am a better person because of your beautiful gift to the world. You are indeed the Queen.



You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen
Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine
You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life
See that girl, watch that scene, dig in the dancing queen

That Kazzatsky Dance

Mrs. Davis has a new window. Mrs. Davis really likes her new window. Mrs. Davis is in love with her new window. Mrs. Davis is a little odd.


Today when I was browsing through sheet music covers, looking for blog fodder, I decided I'd see what was being published 100 years ago. That Kazzatsky Dance is an example - a strange one, but an example. With a little research I came up empty on "Kazzatsky" but drew a hit for "Kazatsky" on dictionary.com. It is defined as the plural of Kazachok which the site defines as "a lively, Slavic folk dance for a solo male dancer, marked esp. by the prisiadka." I'm guessing Irving's spelling (or that of the publisher) were responsible for the extra 'z' being added to the title - maybe they thought it needed two z's for extra zip. Who knows, I was happy to find an answer to the question "Kazz-what-sky?" The second question (after reading the definition) was, what the heck is a prisiadka? Well, believe it or not you've probably witnessed one - albeit in a cartoon. It's that weird (what American's define as) Russian dance that involves squatting and kicking your lets out. Our national memory has erased the Slavic association and replaced it with cossack hat-wearing ruskies. Mom always said too much time in front of the TV would rot my brain.

I also like the bubble picture of Neil McKinley. It looks like he's talking on a cell phone - an odd anachronism. Maybe he's a time traveler. Now either the entire universe has to unravel or I have to be eliminated by the Men in Black. I'm guessing Neil is a popular singer of the era but time has erased him from the records - at least the ones that can be googled.

Maybe this is an appropriate piece to choose with the Olympics underway. It has the same faux international flare that the games have. The name's all foreign but I'm guessing the tune was a shell of the music that normally accompanied the dance from which it stole its name. It probably was homogenized for American consumption and the sensibilities of the era in which it was published. We'll probably never know

Dance Sandals

Can you possibly stand yet another post about dance shoes? Could it be your knee challenged dancer is tired of her Argentina dance sneakers? No way. I still love them with all my heart, and more importantly, with all my joints.

But they are sneakers, and I’ve never given up the longing for a bit fancier shoe for elegant events. I do have a pair of black boots (Sansha brand, warning: they run a size bigger than your street shoe) that I bought for a Halloween outfit last year. They are very nice and look cool. In the winter. But what about the summer?

I was resigned to wear my sneakers during hot weather. But then I found…the Grecian dance sandal. If you are looking on a UK site they call them Greeks. They look scary; that almost non existent strap under the instep just doesn’t seem like it would work.

But it does. They are low heeled (one inch), comfy (I added a foot ball pad), and they look like…sandals! Granted, they are not the strappy competition ballroom numbers you see on TV. They are not as comfortable as my sneaks. But, they are delicate looking and in my mind perfect for fancy dances. Many brands out there, my favorite is Bloch. They come in black, always good, and also a suntan that practically disappears on your feet if you are that color. Which I am….with a little fake tan.

Depending on which site you go to, there are all kinds of advice about sizing. Mine fit exactly true to size; I wear a 7 street shoe and a 7 Bloch fit me. They cost anywhere from 30-50 bucks on line, I got mine for considerably less on ebay. Here they are:

Bass Lake

While waiting for this evening's dance I spent some time browsing the Indiana Memory Collection. The collection is a digital archive of various pieces of Indiana ephemera and I go there from time to time trying to find images of dancehalls past. It satisfies the nostalgic side of my personality and stimulates the writer inside - I find a place that housed such joy but didn't last and I imagine myself there, wonder about the bands that haunted its rafters with their music, and generally get wistful for an age I never experienced. That's the way I'm built, I guess.
One of the things that fascinate me are the dancehalls that were associated with vacation spots. I'm not talking Miami Beach or Palm Springs, by vacation spots I mean tiny little destinations we'd consider little more than day trips and (at best) camping spots. A great number of these places actually had facilities dedicated to dancing or at least multi-purpose structures that featured regular dances. Difficult to imagine going for a little fishing and maybe a foxtrot or two, isn't it? It kind of flies in the face of our modern world where dancing is the event and one that has to be met with a distinct amount of pomp and circumstance. In the twenties and thirties and even through the forties, dancing was a regular part of life. People went dancing as a part of their evenings out. They ate at supper clubs that had dance floors and house bands. They didn't have special shoes to dance in they owned shoes that they could also wear dancing. It was a totally different world

My circuitous route has brought me to the point of tonight's little missive - Bass Lake, Indiana. It's a tiny puddle in northern Indiana's Starke County and, once upon a time, it was home to the Crystal Ball Room - a insignificant-looking building built near the water's edge where vacationers met to while away an evening during their summer vacation. I stumbled upon a picture postcard featuring the ballroom. The photographer took the image from the ballroom's parking lot, an odd subject - the cars parked outside a dancehall in north-central Indiana but I can only go from the description that the Memory Collection provides. The caption in the digital archive reads as follows.

"The Crystal Ballroom, built c. 1925 at the south end of Bass Lake, was a popular place through the 1960's. It featured big bands and dancing, roller skating and other events, such as prize fights. Young men bought tickets for 10¢ for the privilege of dancing with the ladies. The Crystal Hotel was next door."

That last pair of sentences is enticing - it makes you wonder if they bought the tickets, danced the dances, and then took the ladies next door to the hotel. I'm guessing not by design, at least. Still there's that hint of scandal in the air!

After I found the picture of the Crystal Ballroom I did my best James Lileks and Googled Bass Lake. From Google Maps you can see the lake in all its' (miniature) splendor and I even got a street view from the south end of the lake - but, alas, no Crystal Ballroom. So I scanned more images at the Memory Collection and came up with - tah-dah - a business card advertizing the venue. By the time the card was printed the ballroom had been renamed "Crystal Gardens" and the hotel dubbed "Hotel DeCrystal" to lend it an air of sophistication it probably lacked. The card did, however, provide an approximate location - at the intersection of SR10 and SR29. I went back to Google maps.

There are days you're not meant to succeed - and this was one of them. SR10 dances (pun intended) neatly near the south end of Bass Lake however SR29 - not so much. The caption associated with the business card states that Crystal Gardens was located near "…on then State Road 29 and 10…" which reflects the modern reality that somehow a whole state road has been lost to time. I've found SR29 in Indiana but not near enough Bass Lake to make the connection. So for the time being I'll have to be unsatisfied in my quest to find this bygone ballroom. I hope to stand on the spot where it was located and provide a picture for you here but whether that will or won't become a reality will have to be seen! Until then I'll imagine the last dance of the summer season - September with the first smell of fall leaves in the air and a sallow moon riding low in the sky. A couple steps out of the dancehall and as the doors shut the sound of the band playing a Basie tune becomes a shadow. They crunch across the gravel lot to where their car is parked, the trees casting dappled shadows in the moonlight as they walk arm-in-arm after a lovely night.

The Bop - Part 2

Finally I bring you part two of The Bop. Sounds like a B Movie involving a gang of "good kids turned bad" I can just hear the copy now, "First it was hot music and then hot cars, see teen youth plummet into the chasm of loose women, fast cars, and cheap booze - The Bop will rock and shock you!" Well, now you know why I don't write copy for movie trailers as a living!

Firstly, I'd like to understand how you "march softly". In step one our dear bopping friend Art Silva instructs the female half of the pair (of course I'm guessing it’s the female half of the pair, it might be a Scotsman in an extravagantly long kilt) to lift her heels "quite high" and by step two of the instructions I'm getting the impression of a chicken scratching in the barnyard. Art seems to lack dedication when he writes his instructions, I notice he uses a lot of qualifiers: quite, fairly, slightly, and so on. Part of me understands this - I dance rockabilly and I know that the steps are, shall we say, fluid. The Clave style of the Salsa is the same way. It's not a dance of school figures and specific, named steps. It’s a dance of feeling the music and expressing those feelings on the dance floor.

Now we come to my (pictorially) favorite step. Check out the images associated with step 4 - notice that the first and last are the same picture? You'd think they could have spared the 2¢ it would have required to have two pictures of the model, maybe with a little variation? Maybe Ray Conniff had encountered some money flow issues back in '57. Dance the Bop was his second album and maybe the record execs weren't sold on this wild new music (calling Ray Conniff wild is a little like complaining about "those kids" getting on your lawn). Still, it's a little odd that while they couldn't afford three shots for this step they could afford either a costume change or a whole new model. Go figure, I guess.

I simply love Step 6. "As if you were grinding something under your heel…" Another example of why I couldn't write the copy here. I'd opt for something more colorful, "Imagine you're grinding your male oppressors under you heel until they scream for mercy - but you won't give it to them, no amount of crying could make you let them up! ACTION!" Sorry, back in that B Movie again…

BUNNY!

Being caught between Valentine's Day and Easter and in the middle of the seemingly endless gray skies that are common to my part of the Midwest during this season, I found an appropriate piece of sheet music.

I can't help thinking that the Bunny Hug must have been a dance - especially with it being "The Craze of the Day". Personally, I can't help thinking it sounds like a euphemism for sex, "They went down to Lover's Lane and he gave her the old bunny hug..." Afterward there would be tittering and murmured innuendos. Google turned up a Wikipedia article but the abundance of 'citation needed' statements (along with the fact it's Wikipedia) drum up suspicion about all the claims contained there – though it is notable that much of the same information is contained on StreetSwing.com. The StreetSwing article contains a quote from a 1938 issue of Stage Magazine that I like (because it shows the sentiment of the times).

"We hear the Two-step and an outrageously indecent display called the Bunny Hug are gaining favor with the younger element. Let them watch their steps, these young sensationalists. The time will come when they will tire of this eternal jogging and jerking, and find more surcease in the grace and restful beauty of the Valse".

The "valse", by the way, is a mid-nineteenth century term for the waltz. That might say a lot about the people who shared the opinion that the Bunny Hop and its anthropomorphic brethren were a sure sign of Satan's cloven hoof stepping onto the dance floor. The thing that springs to mind for me is – jeesh, it was 1938 and people were trying to use the language of 1838 to describe moral imperatives? To have actually danced the 'valse' when it was called the 'valse' and have had any reasonable understanding of the dance beyond it being 'what mommy and daddy do on Saturday night', the guy who wrote that criticisim would have been about 120 years old! Talk about not letting it go! Imagine the state of the world if we ran around applying the morals of 1910 to all our dealings. All I can say is get the stick out of your butt, it's obviously causing some irritation!

The cover's simple enough – Mr. And Mrs. Bunny dancing away in front of the mindless bunny legions. I believe they're dancing somewhere in limbo or a fog bank because they seem to be surrounded by limitless, gray nothingness. The lines are nice and clean and the image is generally pleasing if a little uninspired. It fit the season so I had to cart it out!

Valentine’s Dance at the Indianapolis Athenaeum

A valentine dance carries a lot of weight. It needs to be (obviously) romantic without going too far…my parents attended a dance the day before that included a faux “Dating Game” activity, shudder. A valentine dance also should carry the theme all the way through; if it’s supposed to be an evening of love then do it right. The Indianapolis Jazz Orchestra at the Athenaeum did it right.

First, a word about the Athenaeum. We Indyites are very lucky to have a number of historic dance floors. The Athenaeum, along with the Scottish Rite Cathedral and the Roof, is the third jewel in the crown, if you will. An old German social club, it has survived all these years and prospered. The building has many venues within itself; we danced in the old theatre on a brand new floor, surrounded by beautiful woodwork and satin curtained balconies. The seating is tiered, somewhat like old supper clubs of old. So…the dancers become part of the entertainment. I was a bit nervous when I first got out there but after gazing into my valentine’s eyes I was fine. :-) My parents went with us, which was also fun. Seeing them enjoy each other after fifty plus years is something to strive for.

The Indianapolis Jazz Orchestra was their usual fabulous self. That might sound like I’m saying they are boring. If spot on execution, a funny but not too over the top band leader, and careful song selection are boring then I wish every band we listened to was. This band is simply perfection, day in and day out. The featured singer was Lydia McAdams…can you say torch singer???? Woohoo. That voice could melt all the streets in Indy. She looks like a 40’s pin up gal, although she was modestly dressed in a floor length gown. Here she is. You can see my parents at the far right.





Gary and I danced and danced. The floor got crowded near the end of the evening, but that just meant everyone was having a good time. It was cool to dance in a sea of red dresses, ties, and shirts, and to be in the presence of so many happy couples.


http://www.indyjazz.org/

Fairy Dances

Just the idea of a Midsummer Night's Ball is enough for me to pull on some striped hose and slip on my fairy wings. (Do you have to ask? Yes. I have them.)

Enchanted fairy soirees are meant for warm days. You might be wondering if such dances exists. They do. Of course, most of them are in England, or on either coast in the US. One in particular I'm dying to attend is Jareth's Labyrinth Masquerade Ball...in California, sigh. I guess that's closer than Hawaii.

Here's a video of the inspiration behind this event, the dance scene from the move Labyrinth. Keep watching...Jennifer Connelly ends up in one of the crystal balls. Don't you love her hair?



http://www.labyrinthmasquerade.com/

Snow

The snow is pretty. I keep telling myself that. As Gary so eloquently said, positive thinking is the best way to go. But waaaaaaa...two dances have been cancelled! And it's cold. To keep myself from falling into a winter funk I'm going to concentrate on warm. Nice hot sand between my toes. A gentle breeze blowing across my fake tanned shoulders. A fruity drink in front of me and my man at my side.

At someplace like this: the Open Room at Kenolio Park across the street from the beach. In Maui, Hawaii. Not in my future anytime soon, but a girl can dream.

Snowed In

The snow has repeatedly interfered with our dance plans in the month of February. Last Friday a snow storm blew in and cancelled our club dance and today another came before the day was out both our club dance and our weekly dance lesson had gone by the wayside. None the less we resolved to practice a couple new moves - one for the Puerto Rican salsa and another for the Rockabilly Swing. Though the wind is howling and whipping the snow around our windows we still managed to dance through it all.


That's something to remember - dance through it all. I'm on a positive thinking kick lately, a difficult task sometimes, and I'm doing my best to apply it to all phases of my life. That includes dancing. There are a million little things that can get you down and make you want to hang up your dance cleats. Bad bands, bad dance floors, clods crowding the floor, add in all of life's un-dance-related troubles and you've got the makings of some real heartbreak.

Dance is like life, you get through it by practicing the right steps and by having a good partner. Good doesn't mean skilled - you don't need Fred Astaire or Ginger Rodgers to make it. Good means someone who knows, loves, and supports you through all those rough spots. I can't tell you how many times I sat and banged my head when Kelly and I first took up the Lindy Hop and the Rockabilly Swing. They're tough dances and neither of them came naturally to me. I had to screw up a hundred times before I got the basic right in either dance and there still are days when I'm an absolute menace on the floor. But I can't give up. I won't give up. To quote a corny song from White Christmas, "the best things happen while you're dancing…" Why give up the best things for the mediocre things - I'm not shooting for mediocrity!

Warning: Another Girly Post

I promised last summer to deliver a spray tan post, which I was reminded of last week. I figured since it was dead of winter I could wait until spring, but of course some people have year long bare leg weather. Thanks ever so much for describing your sun filled, February days. GRRRRRR.

Anyway.

I grew up in the Coppertone ad era. Remember the cute bare butted kid that today would probably be nixed as too small child suggestive? Maybe so, but I miss those ads…seeing them meant summer was officially here. I also miss sunbathing, stocked with adult fruity drinks and fashion magazines. That was before I knew about sun damage, sigh.

Lucky for my health, I could never sit still long enough to get that deep dark tan, unlike my mother, who has had skin cancer. Nowadays we all know exactly what those lovely rays do to your skin, so enough said about that.

Fake tan has actually been around for some time. When I was in high school I tried the brand name QT…I think that was the only kind available. I was so excited. Too bad it turned me bright orange. And I mean ORANGE: Day Glo, construction sign orange. Fortunately, sunless tanning products have come a long way since the OopaLoopa variety.

But some people still get it wrong, even on the red carpet. You’ve seen them; lovely ladies beautifully gowned and makeup-ed, their appearance ruined by too much fake tan. I don’t claim to be an expert, but I have used it for many years and have been complimented on my application. So here are my tips.

First, be realistic. If you are naturally minty green, as my husband would say, you will never be able to duplicate a deep dark tan. Be happy with light brown. Second, like nail polish, a couple of thin coats work much better than one thick one. Third, it is work. You have to be willing to maintain your tan several times a week.

Here is the quickest way I’ve found to obtain and keep a pretty color. You can buy gradual tanners. They work but they take forever and are pricey. Save your money and buy the deep dark kind (brands don’t matter…they all work the same), and then cut it with regular lotion. We all have tubes and bottles of horrific smelling glop someone got us for Christmas. Just mix half and half and there you go. WASH YOUR HANDS. Tanned plams look silly. And while you're at it dig under those fingernails. Then use a cotton ball to get the back of your hands. Do that once a week when you have time to let it absorb.

Then in between times use the spray kind. Medium is good. Light if you’re really fair. That only takes a second. It doesn’t work as well as the rub in kind, but great for touch ups and hard to reach areas like your back. Also, you can spray and almost immediately put your clothes on.

If done right, you can achieve a golden glow that covers not only pale skin, but other little, and not so little, imperfections. It is wonderful to pull on a denim skirt and go, one of the great things about warm weather. And bare legs are great for summer dancing, especially at outside venues.

Mostly for me though, going hose-less means winter is finally over. By the looks of things outside my window I’ve got a ways to go. In the meantime, I can drool over this outside ballroom, The Paseo Colorado in Pasadena, CA.

Tick-Tick-Tick

Life's no good if you can't laugh at yourself. Stop for a moment, close your eyes, shut out all the mundane noise of your everyday life and you'll hear something. That ticking in the background – usually accompanied by the little voice that berates, complains, and protests at every opportunity – that's your life going by. A recent trip to The Roof brought this comparison to the forefront. We went to another Big Band Series event – something we always do, any chance to go to a venue like The Roof is worthwhile in itself especially if we get a chance to dance. The Twilite Nites Dance Orchestra provided the music – I'd forgotten the Nites but when their first tune started out as a swing and ended as a dirge I remembered them and the taste of vinegar filled my mouth. The Nites are (in my appraisal) famous for having difficulty maintaining a friendly relationship with tempo. Like a cheap watch, they tend to wind down quickly – usually within the span of a single song. So, needless to day, it wasn't one of my best nights and privately I was quite vocal about that fact.
Remember that ticking? It doesn't stop or slow down no matter what. You can spend a perfectly good Sunday evening moaning and swearing over the poor quality of the music, you can get angry because a bad band is making hard for you to dance, you can do all those things and the ticking just keeps going – your life's passing by, son. Looking back on the evening the majestic Spanish-themed ballroom still was just as glorious. The thunderstorm lightshow still held the same magic when the rumble died down into a Glen Miller tune. I still got to put my feet on the same boards that dancers have trod since 1927. All the wonderful things were there to be had – if you can get past that tick-tick-tick.

Am I any wiser for the experience? I hope so. Nothing will make the Nites a good band but, then again, does a bad band make a bad evening? Or maybe there's a choice involved? I'm going to believe the latter and I'm making a personal commitment to shut down my private metronome the next time I hit the dance floor. Hey, it's about having fun – isn't it?

Vintage Valentine Dance Postcards

Vintage Valentine dance ephemera is hard to find; either dances weren't as popular on this holiday, or perhaps it's because greetings were more concerned with tender expression than with dancing. :-) I did find a few. Here's a happy boy doing a little jig for his love.



Some cute kids kicking up their heels.




A couple of cupids gettin' down. Who knew there were more than one???



And finally, an elegant African American couple, a rare image in this time period. They are somewhat caricatured, but at least they have beautiful clothes.