You lucked out...THIS TIME.

So, I have a little piece or two of bastardy grumpness I want to get off my chest, but it's bad fung...something to do that on a Friday, so instead I played my favorite Friday game: Planchadora Stalks Julio and Corina!

It's full of pictures. Why? Mostly because I think an essay on how they move would be boring and consist mostly of sentences like: "Oh my God, you guys, SERIOUSLY. SERIOUSLY! Seriously. No, I'm serious."

First, their embrace:

Picture from titango

Gentlemen, this leaders' hand position is cracktastic; when you pull your arm back a little you prevent yourself from accidentaly pressing too hard on the follower's hand, and you leave a lot more room for the embrace to become elastic without making the follower push back.

This is an also excellent embrace for ladies when dancing with tall gentlemen; it keeps you from kinking up your shoulder and throwing your axis off, without giving him the weird side death grip that sometimes happens. Overall, an excellent position. Unless you actually get a chance to dance with Julio, in which case I recommend handcuffing yourself directly to his bicep and dancing that way.

Now, observe the power of technique:

bottom picture from their official site, top picture from titango

From what I can tell, these pictures were taken about six months apart in 2002, and there's a slight difference in the closeness of the embrace, but for all intents and purposes it might as well be the same picture Photoshopped onto two backgrounds. Her arm and his arm are so toned and trained and held firmly, yet gently, like two baby bunnies with little tuxedos on. Gentlemen, when you are dancing, hold your follower like she's a very well-dressed rabbit, okay?

p.s. She dresses really nicely, doesn't she?

Okay, last picture, which I had to post because it's so hysterically adorable:



Corina's the queen of the Winter Formal! She's also the queen of severe hairstyles - let your scalp breathe, girlfriend. She still looks gorgeous, though.

Video of the Week: Jennifer Bratt pwns you.

This video is dedicated to anyone who thinks following is easier. I'm just saying.

Wow, I'm punctual. Also: I talk about tango some more.

Almost a full week without posting! Obviously I've been dancing a lot. Or, I fell in a hole and was only now rescued by municipal authorities. You can decide which one you want to be true.

Hint: since this post is about dancing, it's safe to assume I got some dancing done before I fell into the hole. Place your bets accordingly; no need to lose money because you were underinformed.

This weekend I hit the 50/50 mark, where I led a tanda for every tanda I followed. I learned a lot of things from this. The most important thing I learned was that I can change out of a pair of heels in about ten seconds. I also learned some stuff about dancing, I guess, but come on! Ten seconds to be in a completely different pair of shoes with ties and everything! I'll never miss a song again!

Other things I noticed from all this floor time are the respective lists of demands for leaders and followers:


LEADERS
* Hold the follower in a solid yet gentle embrace.
* Step decisively and strongly without overpowering the follower.
* Lead with the chest, not the arms.
* Navigate the floor successfully.
* Listen to the music and interpret it dynamically and engagingly into your dance.

FOLLOWERS
* Step nicely and with good posture.
* Be psychic.


Followers win, seriously. It is so infinitely harder to follow than to lead, because they have to be relaxed enough to follow whatever lead comes, but they also have to be PSYCHIC and intuit what move the leader was going for, so even if he leads [enter complicated move here] without giving the follower room, she can beautifully and gracefully make it into a [slightly different yet still very slick move]. Guys can laugh here, but I promise you, the women? Backlead.

After a weekend of doing both, the following is much more exhausting than the leading. The leading is more nerve-wracking.

I don't do any of the fancy stuff yet, nor can I see myself ever really doing so - I'm too milonguero to enjoy colgadas and volcadas and all that crazy stuff the kids are doing these days. My leading is focused on the little list above; most of what I'm learning about leading happens as I'm following and think either "I see!" or "...I see."

Recently, people are asking which I prefer, leading or following. In all honesty, it really is like trains and boats - they both take you someplace, and sometimes you prefer one or the other, but in general they're both lovely ways to get around. If there's a decent leader with whom I enjoy dancing, I love following. But I'm a picky follower, and it's just as likely I'll run into a follower I like dancing with, and well, why not lead?

ps. I don't know why this is, but I get all these skeevy guys who are like, "I've always wanted to be led by a woman, you know."

....eeeeeeeeeeeeew.

There are a few men I wouldn't mind leading, but these are men who genuinely want to understand following and are willing to follow other men as well and aren't just looking for jollies. There are plenty of men who are willing to lead other men where I am, so there's no excuses, and I am not really interested in being some guy's free dominatrix for ten minutes, you guys. Seriously.

Also, I'll try to post more, even when I have nothing to say. Expect a lot of polls!

Do not adjust your monitor.

Some of the fetching ladies of the brand-new tango show "Tango Para La Eternidad" stand proudly in their costumes, designed to personify the many faces of tango: space alien, 1880s saloon girl, naked hippie, and Morticia Addams. *





* These dresses are real. They are designed by a fashion label that exists solely to manufacture "tango dresses", the majority of which presumably look like this. On purpose. I don't even know.

"The Tango Lesson."

My friend Cadencia gave me The Tango Lesson as a gift. I had seen it three years ago on one of those independent film channels you always end up watching right before you fall asleep, and I remembered it as some kind of weird fever dream with a goatee in it. Naturally I was excited by the opportunity to watch it while lucid.

"The Tango Lesson." A movie / real-life comparison.

MOVIE: Film director Sally Potter can't concentrate on her hilariously sucky movie and, after seeing a tango performance, tries to learn tango from Pablo Veron.

The dude may be a drunk, but he can jump!

She gets through one lesson that he teaches while totally hung over.

REAL LIFE: Uh, so far so good.

MOVIE: Because her imaginary movie kind of sucks, she finds fake holes all over her house and runs off to Buenos Aires to really learn tango, as in, learn tango from other people who are not drinkyface Pablo Veron.

REAL LIFE: Probably a good idea! I'm just saying, that crazy art movie went nowhere and it looks Pablo's dancing with himself, if you get me.

Sally introduces her leitmotif of unflattering, high-waisted bubble pants.

MOVIE: She takes what looks like two lessons from Gustavo Naveira and Fabian Salas, then hits Confiteria Ideal and manages to snag Omar Vega AND Cacho Dante.

REAL LIFE: Well, she ain't so great, it has to be said, but hey, if anyone can teach someone to tango in two lessons it's Gustavo and Fabian. Also, this movie makes me hope they are a wacky crime-fighting duo who run around fixing people's bad ochos and stuff all the time, because the world needs them! ALSO also, they could maybe have their wacky tuxedo-wearing friend "Flaco" Dany who helps them out sometimes, and their wacky high-speed weapons expert Jorge Firpo, and their counterintelligence superpower Geraldine Rojas! I'd pay money to see that movie! I'd pay more money to see that movie than I would to see this one, that's for damn sure.

Sally Potter and her wacky crimefighting trio

ps. If you watch that YouTube video, right when they have the establishing shot of the gentlemen, Cacho Dante is totally staring RIGHT AT THE CAMERA. It's one of my favorite moments in the whole movie. He's like, "I, uh...I'm just....camera."

MOVIE: Sally comes back from Buenos Aires and is bored by everything.

REAL LIFE: Hell yes. See also: anyone who ever went to Bs As and danced.

MOVIE: She misses tango, so she goes to see Pablo and they become BFFs and dance through a bunch of waiters trying to clean up and along a municipal waterway.

REAL LIFE: I'd say we're edging into Mary Sue territory, but apparently this actually happened to some extent, and later we get to see plenty of her dancing foibles, so I'll give her a pass.

MOVIE: They become professional dance partners in a sort of put-me-in-your-movie foreplay, except that Pablo only dances for himself and as soon as she starts in with, "So, you totally ignored me on stage in front of, like, three hundred people," he whips out the, "I'm a man, I need my space to BREATHE!" thing, which might work on a better actor but looks pretty hilarious on Pablo Veron.

REAL LIFE: Dude, this is every relationship in the history of time. Check.

MOVIE: They go back to Buenos Aires, where they pick up Gustavo and Fabian and begin working on choreography - and on their sizzling sexual tension!

In an attempt to escape the rain, Sally's pants crawl up her waistline seeking freedom!

REAL LIFE: Sally's not a good emoter, and neither is Pablo, and the sexual-tension part is just a lot of staring. However, you'll notice that all these scenes are saved by Gustavo and Fabian, Crime-Fighting Milongueros! (Gustavo is the serious, mythical one and Fabian is the lighthearted, playful one, and they work tirelessly to uncover the axis of every tango dancer! Hooray!)

MOVIE: The jealousy increases until Pablo busts up her tanda with another guy so he can dance with her himself.

REAL LIFE: I checked with a friend who lived in Bs As on this, and her answer was, "HAHAHAH, no." I'm going to take a wild stab and say that it would either not happen or not be tolerated if it did happen, because, come on.

ps. I have no video footage of this, but if you can get your hands on a copy of the movie, right after Pablo shoves Sally's partner, there's a mid-shot where you can see a pair of dancer extras. The dude's expression is the kind of horror and dismay one would expect if Pablo had come to the guy's house, shoved sand into his face, kicked his dog, and marched out. That extra is holding NOTHING back.

MOVIE: Ambiguous ending after some big fight about nothing.

REAL LIFE: Well, you have to give Sally points for knowing how relationships go. Another one for Sally.

I finished this movie with the prevailing thought that my fever dream had been pretty accurate.

There are a lot of things here that are totally artsy and contrived, and the fact that I could believe that they actually happened makes me a little sad for Sally - like, I can absolutely believe she'd call and leave a big Biblical anecdote on someone's answering machine. Should she be proud of this? I don't know. I guess it depends on how well it worked in real life.

I also have trouble with the fact that all the Argentine bigshots make a big deal out of how great a dancer she is; I can't blame her for wanting to make a movie where she dances with every bigshot but Flaco Dany, who must have been out of town, but later she makes a whole plot point out of the fact that she's NOT a very good follower, which just makes me feel like she was writing fanfiction in her head or something. I mean, who abandons their significant other ON THE DANCE FLOOR to come over and dance with someone else? (Yes, this happened. Just like they all cross the room and stand by the table while she's talking and wait to ask her to dance. Who let that happen?)

What I do think she got right is the addictive nature of tango; I love all the quiet moments where she hobbles around in her first pair of tango shoes, where she soaks her feet in the tub after a night of dancing. I love when she goes to the tea dance in Paris and even though at that point she hasn't been to Buenos Aires, you can see on her face that she knows this isn't really tango. That stuff is all great.

And this moment, thought totally contrived, is a very powerful representation of the struggle of tango, where the man seeks to contain the woman but needs her for balance, etc. This moment was the reason I chose this as my blog picture for so long.


This whole movie was the reason I took it off again. I'm on strike for Gustavo and Fabian: Crime-Fighters! I know you can do it, Sally! Make it happen!

Dear Capezio,

Our love affair is over!

My dance sneakers gave in this weekend, and I had no alternatives. So, a brief list of what I learned this weekend:

1) Bring more shoes. Always bring more shoes. You think two pair will be enough, but clearly you are a fool.

2) My feet have such nice, smooth callouses that I can dance for two hours in socks with my heels 4 inches off the floor and my feet don't hurt.

3) Take THAT, Capezio! Hanes is totally putting you out of business!

4) I wish desperately for beautiful shoes that enable me to alternate leading and following without making me look like The Bride of Clunkentoes or, alternately, the little-known and often maligned Kevin Costner love interest Stands-With-Two-Pairs.

Because pictures are nice. Sometimes. Sometimes they burn your eyeballs.

Because I have no high horse to get up on today, it's picture time!

First off, this picture of two tango dancers who are both girls (say it ain't so!):



I don't know how you're supposed to walk, much less dance in those dresses, frankly. I especially love the grumpy girl on the left. She needs to breathe, people! She probably hasn't eaten in a year! Let her out!

But for every soft-focus beauty shot of Belle Epoque dresswear, we have a photo shoot for modern tango wear that looks like it was shot at the Winter Formal or something:

1. Love that picture-in-picture! If only it had that oval frame action from my junior prom days, where you got TWO shots of you and your date looking uncomfortable, instead of just one. (Tradition in my school was to take one serious one and one "wacky" one, which usually involved the girl looking like the beginning of a Mentos commercial, fake-baffled and -dismayed, while the guy grabbed some ass. Classy, classy establishment.)

2. Speaking of grab-ass, how about we maybe add a skirt to that dress?


There is nothing wrong with this next dress. It's a little tight for tango, maybe, but there's nothing at all wrong with it - it's something I'd wear to a wedding. I just love the story created by this unintentionally hilarious picture editing :


"Sally couldn't stand how Sadie was so blissfully happy to steal Sally's every move, her every thought, her every outfit - but all that would soon change. Oh, yes, it would. Sadie would be very, very sorry."



And some more shoes:


I can't tell if these are interesting or appalling, and I absolutely cannot fathom what they look like on someone's foot. My brain loses today. I do appreciate them taking a stab at a new look, but is it like a straightjacket for your foot? I think these might be like a pair of Comme il Fauts I saw someone wearing once, open-toe slingbacks in white satin with a black toile print and a big velvet cord tied around the ankle. I didn't like the shape of the shoe, but I totally admired the idea behind it, and the fact that this girl could keep a shoe on her foot with something flimsier than ribbon.

It was like a gossamer, marshmallow fairy-kiss of a shoe tie, you guys, seriously.

Good news, bad news, bad shoes.

Good news: I love leading. Not quite as much as following a good leader (following a good leader is indescribable and total rewardingpants), but I like leading much, much more than following a bad leader. See previous posts wherein I am a bastardy grump.

Bad news: I have to fix. When you're a follower and there's a disconnect in the step, your job is to wait until he fixes. When you're leading, you actually have to figure out how to fix it.

Good news: this doesn't happen a lot since my style is currently so simple that it's hard for me to fuck up.

Bad news: my style is really simple. I need to step it up with the tango vocabulary. I know about 30 steps, but I trust myself to effectively lead about 7. Time to hit practica. Musicality is all well and good, but it's one thing to be simple on purpose and another thing to be simple because you don't know better. It's the difference between Ernest Hemingway and a second-grader.

Good news: 90% of missteps can be fixed by walking to the cross.

Bad news: Walking to the cross is one of my 7 steps. They're on to me!

Good news: My following has also improved a ton; either my balance is getting better or I'm getting better at reading a lead and knowing where my foot has to be. I'll take either one!

Bad news: What works for the follower (hip embellishments, let's say) does not always work for the leader. It's okay, you can laugh. I certainly did the last time I caught myself in the mirror with salsa hips. Note to self: just because it's D'Arienzo doesn't mean your ass can be shaking all over.

Good news: My hip embellishments are looking great!

Bad news: My nice shoes are languishing, since it's impossible to switch in and out of them all night long when I'm doing about 50/50 leading and following.

Good news: The arch of my right foot, which had been a little sore following weeks of training in toe-pointing and instep-resting, is feeling much better. Yay breaks!

Bad news: I need leading shoes desperately. I'm leading in little jazz shoes and it's just not feasible.

Good news: A lot of comfortable shoes are suitable for both leading and following!

Bad news: These shoes exist.

Good news: They're out of stock!

Bad news: That means PEOPLE BOUGHT THEM.

Q & A with Planchadora

Since the post I made expressing frustration with public reaction to my leading, things have calmed somewhat. I am still working my hardest to learn, incorporating a few new steps at a time with the old staples, working on my intent and my posture and the comfort of my embrace.

I still do not ask women to dance unless they have make it clear they want to dance with me. And by "make it clear," I don't mean eye contact. I mean they come up and ask, "Can we have a dance later?"

This weekend I went to a milonga, and after a tanda of leading I walked the woman back to her seat. A porteno nearby asked me how long I had been dancing, and I told him I had been leading for two months or so, and started to say something self-deprecating, but stopped when I saw his expression and asked why.

"Because you understand tango," he said. "You really understand."

I tell you this story partly because it's the best tango complement I'm ever going to get, and partly because I'm about to rip into a porteno, and I want to make it clear the general level of respect I have for Bs As-born tango dancers.

SO! In response to my O RLY? post, Dandy, from Buenos Aires, writes:

I am writing from Buenos Aires.
I have a question . What is this abaout leaders and followers?
In the tango dance you have hombres (man) y mujeres (women).
Nothing can change that,is the essence of tango.

My favorite thing about this letter is that it assumes I cannot identify the words "hombres" and "mujeres", and yet understand the article "y".

This is my answer:


Hi Dandy,

Actually, my advice was split into two parts - advice for leaders and advice for followers - based on things I have observed at the milongas in my city. The advice does not relate to gender, but rather to the roles of the dance.

Traditional tango is a man and a woman, obvio. However, the essence of tango to me is two people moving together, attemping to express the sentimientos of tango. The genders of those two people doesn't matter to me.

In Buenos Aires I am sure every man is a tango god, and you especially I am sure, since you have taken the time to write me and correct me. However, where I live, in a milonga full of hombres mierdas, many women are happy to dance with good women leaders.

You are free to have your own opinion on this, but I am a woman who leads and follows, and I see no reason why I should be forbidden to lead just because I am a woman. Anyone who is musical, who can give intent, who can take care of the follower in their arms and navigate the dance floor well, can lead. You may not agree, but I know plenty of followers who do.

O RLY?

I came across a post in a tango discussion board last night. I've decided not to link it because the guy was totally trying to be nice and not trolling anything, so he gets the benefit of the doubt on that one and should not be yelled at for trying to encourage people to be welcoming. However, it did make me bust out with my O RLY? face.

Upshot: Women should stop being so picky. If they choose to dance only with leaders who are better than they are, or the best leaders in the room, then all the beginners and other leads feel left out and might not come back, and in the interest of supporting the community and "paying it back", women should dance more.

O RLY? Let me break out my bag o'punctuation for a nice long snarkfest. **

First: I agree that people should support beginners, absolutely. I was a beginner once, and without R. and the other brave men who endeavored to show me turns, sacadas, and paradas, I'd be discouraged and probably by now I'd be ice dancing instead. In the spirit of paying it back to the tango community, there are beginners I dance with whenever I see them at a milonga, because they are always trying to improve. They'll ask a question about the embrace (between songs), they'll try something new that they've clearly been working on, and if it doesn't quite happen, they'll make it into something they can manage without tripping the follower. They try to listen to the music and dance D'Arienzo differently than Vargas.

Key words above include: trying to improve, clearly been working, manage without tripping, listen to the music. I will fix your fumble if you were trying to make a very musical turn and it didn't quite work out. If you take a side step and don't know how to navigate for a while, it's all right, I'll hang out. (One guy tried this, got boxed in, and after about ten seconds he said, "Uh...artistic pause!" and I cracked up because it was awesome.) I will totally dance with you if this is the case.

Beginners I will not dance with again: Guys who dance every dance exactly the same, inluding milongas (aieeee!). Guys who try out something on you that they just "learned" unsuccessfully in the intermediate class. Guys who try out that same move four times in a row whether or not he can actually do it. Practicas, you guys.

Beginners who ruin it for all the other beginners: Guys who try to use salsa moves on the dance floor when their tango fails them. (Yes, this happened, yes, it was as bad as you think, and I have to tell you, this guy initiated my "I don't care how good you say you are, I'm not dancing with you until I've seen you dance with someone else" rule. I usually shorten it and sound more polite, obviously, but if I don't know you I'm reluctant to be your first dance. I've missed out on one or two leads, but I've avoided about 300 disasters, so I'm okay with the odds.

SALSA, you guys. To DI SARLI. I died inside.)

Unrelated addendum: if you have brought your own follower and can manage to avoid crashing people, you guys can practice your moves over and over. If you're not bocking traffic and not using an unsuspectecting follower as a practice partner, you can do as you please. It looks funny to parade around doing a fancy gancho combination 16 times, but if you're fine with it I'm fine with it.

Guys I won't dance with at all: If you have been dancing for 5 years and you still dance every dance exactly the same. If your tango vocabulary is mostly stage moves. (Nobody wants to see your follower sliding between your legs, dude.) If you teach on the dance floor. If you try to hold me closer to my ass than my shoulder in hopes of copping a feel. If you are a Shoveler. If you clearly never practice and don't know how long it takes the follower to do something, so you link all your fancy tricks together without remembering the laws of physics. (I have been guilty of this myself as a leader, but I figured it out during practica and fixed it way before I went to a milonga and asked someone to dance.) If you show off at the expense of your partners.

I'd argue that tango community service is REFUSING to dance with bad leaders. A complacent leader will never improve and will continue playing grab-ass all over the dance floor for the rest of his life. A leader who isn't getting dances will have to either quit the scene and grab ass someplace else, or improve.

This will significantly cut the risk of Horrified Followeritis, and definitely increase the number of 'Yeses' these guys get. I'm still not sure why they do it.

Yes, leading is extremely difficult. I know that. I'm working on it myself. However, keyword: I am working on it. I practice out of the public eye with friends and in classes, I ask questions and get feedback, I keep it to the steps I know I can lead. I don't ask people to dance yet at milongas, because I'm not good enough. If a friend asks me, I'll be happy to lead, but I'm not presenting myself as a leader yet because I can't expect people to dance with me until I'm better. I expect no less from other leaders.

A follower has nothing to gain from dancing with a leader who is complacently sucky, who is not listening to the music, who grabs her ass, who steps on her toes, who makes her a practice dummy. Why would she say yes?

Now, because my grouch is equal-opportunity: FLIP SIDE!

Followers! Your turn!

Heads up: Just because you are young and skinny doesn't mean you're a good follower. It means you're young and skinny, and good leaders rarely avoid young, skinny partners. You still have to work on your technique. No one looks good with their ankles six inches apart and their feet rolling everywhere. Insteps and ankles, please. This goes for everyone, by the way, not just young, skinny beginners. Everybody! Insteps and ankles!

As regards speed: Long steps are gorgeous. I am a big fan of any lady who steps back with beautiful long steps. However, there's no need to rush. You're not going anywhere. It's a circle! Plus, you're sort of dragging your leader, and it makes the guy look funny when he's running after you.

Also: Posture. It looks lovely to stand up straight - your mom told you, those bat-crazy nuns at the Catholic school told you, and now I'm telling you. Hunching over and leaning your head on his shoulder does not look sad and emotive; it looks like you're falling asleep, or that he punched you in the stomach. Quit defaming your leaders as boring and/or abusive brutes! So mean!

Also also: Every once in a while, dance with a beginner who's trying. If he's really trying, in two years he'll be awesome, and you'll be all, "Oh hi, Awesome," and he'll be like, "Oh hi, Nice Follower, care to dance?" and all the other women will be totally jealous. You wait and see.

** Disclaimer: I am a bastardy grump.

Sad But True

There are times I won't recognize someone's face because I only pay attention from the knees down. It most often goes like this:

[At a milonga. A woman comes up to me.]

Woman: "Hi, Planchadora, how are you?"

[Without any clue who this woman is]

Me: Oh...heeeey there....

[looks down and sees distinctive gold shoes]

Me: ...Joanne!*


This skill also enables me to spot an out-of-towner at 100 paces.


[At a milonga, scanning the floor.]

Me: Those purple shoes - she's not local.


It's done more to spur me into good technique than any lecture could, knowing that people will identify me solely by the way I hold my feet. Aieee!


* Joanne is a name I made up, and is no way intended to reflect on actual Joannes. If you are an actual Joanne reading this, I'm sure your gold shoes are lovely.

Video: Tango Geographic

*narrator voice*

Here, past the wilderness of Patagonia, beyond the arid plains of the Obelisk, lives the most elusive of all creatures: the porteno. Usually glimpsed only in captivity, the porteno is a fabled creature whose full glory is rarely seen.

However, careful study rewards the devoted, and here, an amateur photographer has managed to capture two exquisite specimens in their natural habitat.

Have you been attacked by wild animals?

Everyone's posting about what (and what not) to wear, from Cherie to Debbi to Miss Tango, which is exciting and yet sad, because when people have to mention what you shouldn't wear, I know that wild animals have once again been set free to maul young ladies' hemlines.

"But I want to express myself!" some women cry, clutching their keyhole tops and necktie minikirts. "This is beautiful and fluid! I can only dance in this!"

To this I can only promise you you're expressing something, but it usually just gets you the pearl-clutching "oh my GOD!" kind of reaction, and less "I bet that girl in the skirt made of neckties can really burn up the floor!"

For those still uncertain, I have included some concrete examples.

RED

Attacked by a Wild Animal

Not Attacked by a Wild Animal

Both of these dresses are red, with collarbone-showcasing proprties. However, you'll note that the first one looks as if cougars have shredded it to ribbons, leaving an underskirt that barely covers the undercurve of the backside. Ladies, you don't want to flash people, I PROMISE. No matter what Claire Anderson told you in fifth grade, flashing people is not cool. The second dress is slightly more conservative, but still beautiful, and with this one you can wear a bra! I know, I know, it's crazy talk, but dammit, it just might work!

ASYMMETRY

Attacked by a Wild Animal

Not Attacked by a Wild Animal

The first dress is not quite as bad as it could be, but the material looks deeply uncomfortable, as if this woman is somehow playing the Mother of the Bride in a tango show and they wanted to come up with an Argentine version of an organza bolero jacket. And by Mother, I mean Hootchie-Mama mother, because that slit goes up to what I desperately hope are some underpants. At least she knows it's a little much and has tried to cover it up with a shower curtain. It's still a little small, though; maybe she could have avoided that little gauntlet sleeve and just used the extra material to finish it off.

Meanwhile, the second dress is matte cotton jersey (the only material I wear to dance in, because it's pretty and your skin can breathe and you're not all confined and GOOD LORD how do women dance in satin I'll never understand it), and it's classy enough that you can wear it to tango and outside tango, like on dates or other things people do in the real world when they're not dancing tango. I don't know what those things are anymore.

And double bonus - even the asymmetric part is still thick enough that you can sneak a black bra strap under there and no one will ever know! Who knows what genius designed a dress you can wear a bra in? Who knows why so many women decide to forego said bra while they're dancing, even if maybe they shouldn't? The world is full of mystery.

What I do know is that this dress is so hot I just ordered it for myself.

I hope that this helps, indecisive tangueras! I'm sure it did. I know that now I never have to see the remains of an animal attack ever again.

Except that I'm going dancing tonight, so I guess it's not a matter of "if" and more a matter of "how many".

It's like Batman!

If Batman danced tango. In four-inch heels. (Metaphor, you win again!)

I'm sitting at my office, my backpack tucked under my desk behind me, and I can feel my tango shoes radiating with Hypnotoad sounds. It's hilarious, because I keep looking around as if the shoe police is going to come after me asking what I'm doing with fantastic stilettos in my bag and orthopedic loafers on my feet.

Yeah, I have orthopedic loafers. Wore them before tango, and it makes sense now more than ever. Sure, I look like a second-grade teacher, but I wear them with pride! And striped socks.

But there's something awesome about a hidden life, Batman-style, even if I'm dispensing ochos instead of justice. I almost wish that the Buenos Aires idea of afternoon milongas would penetrate North America. It would be fantastic to break for lunch at 2pm, run out of my office, and dance for an hour, only to show up at my office again with one sock missing or something. I'd be more grist for the rumor mill than already exists!

(I bring entire changes of clothes, a Dopp kit, and extra shoes to work now. God only knows what everyone's thinking when I pick up my overnight bag every night and head out the door.

Hopefully something really awesome involving Goran Visnjic, whom I love even though he has better hair than I do.)

Video of the Week: Ney Melo and Jennifer Bratt (again)

I couldn't help it, though! Look at them! They're so gorgeous!

It says that the video is a demo; my only thought is that it's a demo of being awesome, but I'll welcome any votes on what particular move/musicality/technique they might be demonstrating. My brain is still fried from watching her feet.

The Tangocoaster Strikes Again.

Further adventures of the tangocoaster.

I've spent two weeks wondering if I was ever again going to have a tanda that didn't end in me wanting to stab myself in the face. It was never good enough - not the right posture, ankles not close enough, steps not long enough, missed a lead.

Friday I went out, in defiance of all laws of averages and declining returns. I was keeping friends company and had no desire whatsoever to dance; my only hope was to sit quietly all night in pretty shoes and try to learn a little by watching people who could actually dance.

Tangocoaster: 1001.
Me: 0.

The first few hours of the night went pretty much according to plan, until a friend of mine asked me to dance. It's hit or miss with him, and I was absolutely predicting a miss, but it's hard to decline since he's such a sweetie, so off we went.

It was really nice. He's taking lessons or something, because the embrace was solid and the intent was clear, and I even managed to relax enough to throw in a few little embellishments. I never would have thought it would go so well, and two tandas later when I thanked him, I was beaming.

Tangocoaster: 1001.
Me: 6.

I sat for a while longer, and declined a couple of leaders (one of them is a Dancefloor Instructor, and the other is a Shoveler), happy just to watch and know that my one tanda looked really good.

Then I got asked again for a really well-crafted tanda by one of my favorite partners, and it was two songs of glee. Every step was right, his musicality was a cut above, his lead was sure but not shoveling.

Tangocoaster: 301.
Me: 706!

After two tandas, I thanked him and walked back to my chair, where my teacher was waiting.

"You've got to do something about your shoulder," she said.

Tangocoaster: 1006.
Me: 0.

Grist for the mill.

So, a little more about horrible tango night, because I'm still grumpy about it.

I dropped in on a beginner class taught by a teacher I really like, hoping to get in some leading practice. My intent is getting better, but I have the bad habit of bending my knees, which makes me look like Donald Duck in "Disney Tangos on Ice" or something. Trying to nip it in the bud toute suite. I mentioned this before class, and the teacher pointed out that even in heels a lot of the women are shorter than I am, and that I might be trying to compensate or get more "push", etc etc. It was exactly the kind of feedback I had gone to get, and I was feeling excited at the start of class that I could make progress.

With two minutes to go, there were two guys without partners, and me.

I'd like to say I demanded to be allowed to lead, and showed some guy how it was really done, but the teacher clearly needed another follower, and I figured I could always use more practice in following, so I ponied up.

Mistake. Stupid, stupid pony!

The first guy I got never introduced himself or made eye contact; when we went to the cross he pinched me in his right arm, his right shoulder blade aiming for my chin in some weird attack pose, and turned away from me with his left side, so I had absolutely no space, not even space I could fudge or create myself - all I could do was walk and try to avoid the Shoulder Attack. After each attempt, he would look down and walk diagonally for a while before trying again. He never asked for feedback, and I was not in the mood to offer any after being treated like a stand-in, so I just walked and concentrated on pointing my foot properly.

At long last, he stopped. "Why can't I get you to cross?" he asked, puzzled.

I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if he was asking for feedback, so I suggested mildly, "Maybe if you kept your right arm a little softer (something the teacher had suggested to the group), I could use the extra space to move in front of you into the cross."

He had no reaction to this, as if I hadn't spoken at all, and after a moment said to a space past my knees, "Why can't I get you cross?", just in case I hadn't been sure before that I was being ignored as the follower apparently deserves.

The teacher called for the classe's attention at that point and reiterated exactly the suggestion I had made, using me as the demo follower to show how a cross is made, pausing to point out that the follower needs to be able to move in the embrace. We demonstrated ways to get out of the cross using ochos, walking patterns, the sidestep.

The teacher concluded with, "Okay, so, keeping that in mind, try again with your same partner."

When I turned around, he was motioning to a guy a few spaces away in the line of dance. "Come on," he called out across the room, the bitterness in his voice so sharp everyone in the class turned to look, "you dance with her. I'm not gonna."

The guy he'd spoken to looked mortified; no one was dancing, still watching, frozen.

"Thank God," I said mildly, and went to the next leader in line, seething quietly.

I regret not sticking to my guns and leading, regardless of the teacher's ratios. I regret not being more forceful with this guy to start with and getting away sooner.

I regret not having my stilettos on so I could perforado this guy.

There's nothing worse for me than following a leader when I know I could lead it better. The frustration ruined the night for me, and I neither led nor followed well.

The frightening thing is that soon this guy will be at the milongas, and he'll get dances.

No words.

Video of the Week - A Tango Lesson

See, this is the kind of video that makes me sit up and thank YouTube. As much as I adore the performances, things like this are endlessly useful, and the steady cameraman here has put the focus on the feet. Yay! No huge heads in the way of interesting footwork! (There is that one guy who makes a panicked run for it right in the middle, but I sort of love him, so we're giving him a pass.)

This girl rocks an embellishment, too. Obviously not a lot of milongas give you that kind of floor space, but this kind of playing around with walks and paradas and stuff is definitely interesting to me. Plus, hot shoes!

Clubs Trump.

You ever have a night at tango where you think maybe you should have taken up bridge instead?

Yeah. Good times.

May or may not go out tonight; I want to shake it off quickly, but at the same time, who knows how long this streak of spectacularly bad luck could go on if I push it.

Friday!

Tonight I tango, and the worries of the work week will be immediately replaced by worries about my axis and my ankles! ...yay?

Speaking of axis, though, I saw this photo on Flickr (I am totally online-stalking Corina and Julio, you guys, it's embarrassing) and had to post it:



First of all, even though this is a still picture I feel like they were valsing - she has vals-face on. Second of all, her axis in this picture is just UNREAL. As is his, frankly. And their joint axis. So really, the lesson here is Axis.

(Nice shoes, too, Corina!)

Huge thanks to PeterForret, who posted this picture on Flickr and made my Friday.

My superhero costume would be pajamas.

I passed a kid and mom this morning, on their way to school.

"So when I'm a superhero, I fly and you can't shoot me and I play basketball and have a lion and change shapes and I eat whatever I want!"

I'm sorry, but that's the most amazing superhero ever. Mostly the power of flight and the power of great metabolism

My superhero would have 20/20 vision, immunity to the common cold, steel metatarsals, and the ability to change the channel using only the power of her mind.

Stupid out of pratice...ness!

Thanks for all the comments a few posts back on my leading frustration; it was awesome to have the reassurance that I am not a hulking alien beast out to stomp on tango traditions the world over. In fact, Miss Tango in Her Eyes pointed out that men used to dance with each other for practice, which is not only a pratical idea when out on the range for months at a time, but also an excellent reason for some of my favorite tango boys to start dancing together! (Though guys seem to freak out about that, which is hysterical when one of the visiting male instructors asks to see the move and takes the follower's position, and the student is more freaked out about the fact that it's a dude than the fact that they can't do the move.)

I went dancing for the first time in two weeks on Monday, and my following was fine - I've begun the tentative entry into the world of embellishments, which means that every once in a while I tap a downbeat and feel a wild surge of elation that I haven't fallen over. Nothing like keeping expectations low!

Sadly, after two weeks of not leading I could tell a difference in my embrace, and after one tanda with the world's sweetest woman, who pretended I wasn't suddenly boring, I cut the night short before I could manhandle anybody. Morale was low at home that night.

I think I'm going to go back to my current training trick, where I dance in my living room with a stack of wafer cookies in the crook of my right arm. If I open my embrace too much (losing my imaginary follower), the cookies fall. If I manhandle her, the cookies are crushed, and then I have to clean up thousands of tiny cookie crumbs from my floorboards, and it serves me right for being a bad leader!

Plus, I get to fill my house with wafer cookies. Their sweet, chocolately filling compels me!

Best Dance Quote Ever.

"I wanted to be a ballerina when I was little. But, according to my mom, six-year-olds with mild scoliosis and giant man-feet aren't dancer material."

- Dr. Elliot Reid, Scrubs

Capezio, oh Capezio - why?!

Dear Capezio,

Our relationship has been short but passionate, but lately I wonder if you care for me at all. You tempted me with your comfortable class shoes, and oh, how I needed you! oh, how our love blossomed!

When you offered me this shoe: "...soft, comfortable, sleek and responsive. Genuine cow suede heel and sole pods are padded for comfort and shock absorption. Sueded heel and forepart socklining connect with a stretch material providing support without sacrificing articulation."

How could a woman resist? You provided a sensibly-priced pair of shoes, and after trying them on in the store and oching for a while, they felt as if you had crafted them only for me, as if no other mass-market dance-shoe manufacturer could ever know me as well as you did.

Capezio, these shoes are a PACK OF LIES. These is like the Nixon administration of shoes. They cut off the circulation of the arch and somehow manage to grind the top of my toes towards the ground so that my foot gets negative support. That's right, my love, NEGATIVE support.

I actually began to turn into a tree, Daphne-style, and my heart ached to think that this is what you wanted - that THIS was what you called love! This morning I was walking around my office like R2-D2 because my feet still hurt from NOT EVEN DANCING in these shoes for the past two nights.

Darling, I don't understand. You also make this extremely comfortable sneaker. Clearly you must still care for me; clearly, deep down, you could hear my silent cries. Why did you have to hurt me with all that talk of revolutionary "sole pods" when all I needed to know was that this other shoe had a little layer of padding in it?

Capezio, I'm so confused. Please, please write soon. My heart pounds to think that perhaps I've been wrong about you all along - that perhaps all this time, that Russian Sansha might be the generalized split-sole jazz-sneaker for me, and you never cared for me at all! Oh, Capezio, how could I bear it?

I send you a thousand kisses - and also this stupid shoes, which I'm returning, because ow.

All my love,
Dora

Happy Valentine's Day

Picture time!

Don't worry, this publicity still is the antithesis of yesterday's. I promise. No visible underwear or crotchtasticness or anything.

We already know that Ney Melo and Jennifer Bratt are awesome dancers, so I trust that their feet in these picture are pointed and nice. But even if they were in sneakers or Uggs, this picture retains that lovely "I stumbled across this really well-dressed couple dancing tango on their stoop" feeling. (Shut up, I know you look for that feeling, too! You run to stoops all over the place!)

Happy Valentine's Day, bailarins.

Serious Post. You've been warned.

Okay, so this post not nearly as fun and underwear-flashing as the previous post. It's a reaction to something that I find frustrating and baffling, by turns. (Hence my disclaimer in the title, which I origially typed "You've been warmed." You are the Hot Pockets of my life!)


Gentlemen, let's get this straight:

1. I am not claiming I am a better leader than you are. If you think I'm a better leader than you are, that's your problem. I'm just enjoying the music.

2. Of course I still love following. In fact, my following has improved by leaps and bounds since I began leading, because now I can follow a subtler intent and I know what feel best to the leader. Saying that because I lead I don't like to follow is like saying that because I like boats, I must hate trains. They both take you places. What's the issue? (Unless you're saying all this because I've declined to follow YOU, in which case, see #1.)

Now, this bizarre passive-aggressiveness comes from a small percentage of the guys. Growly, hypermasculine, stompy, but small. I take comfort in the knowledge that they are generally unpleasant people anyway, and clearly just want something to grump about.

The nice guys, the guys I like to dance with, point out embellishments I could do to dress up a simple step and bring out a flourish in the music. They remind me to hold my elbow back and not to bend my knees too much, and then ask me if I'd like to dance.


Women are generally much cooler about a woman leader, and I have had a much better reaction from them. There are, however, some women who also need clarification:


1. I am not out to cop a feel or dominate anyone. This is more than you can say for a lot of the not-so-good male leaders who ask you to dance, who are just out for a warm body against them, which I know from experience and am surprised you still tolerate. I am leading because it's a tanda I love, and either my leader of choice is not available, or I would prefer to interpret it myself (and dancing alone in a corner looks pretty dumb).

2. I only dance with women who ask ME first. If you see me leading for a while, it's because she's asked for another tanda. I am not kidnapping anyone. I promise.


Clearly most of the readers of the blog are not the sort of knee-jerk haters who go home and stick pins in voodoo dolls of tango dancer, and this rant is totally uneccessary. It's just a shame that somehow it's a big political statement whenever I want to walk around to di Sarli with someone who likes to dance with me.

One of many posts today, but by far the most crotchtastic.

My plan is to buckle down and post a lot today, since I actually have some things to say that are not quite related enough for one post. However, I always say that and then I end up staring at one line of text for three hours, so what do I know?

Actually, I DO know that this picture has to be one of the most unfortunate tango publicity shots ever:

The questions posed by this picture are a veritable Da Vinci code of bad ideas. Is she caught in his fly? Why does he look like Michael McKean? Where do you rent a waiter's tux and who let him do that for a photo shoot? Do they KNOW that it looks like she's caught in his fly? Who reversed the shot? (If the shot isn't reversed, the next question is: how do you lead in lace gloves?) What photographer allowed a shot that looked like she got caught in his fly?

I feel as if 80% of the questions I get about my dancing from people who don't dance relate to this picture, since this is the general public's collective image of tango. Nothing wrong with that, stage tango can be awesome, but I have a feeling my office imagines that after work I grease back my hair, slap on some lace gloves, and march into the night.

Upside: for all I tease her accesories, this woman has not been attacked by a wild animal.

The Element of Surprise.

I am rather peerlessly dumpy. At work, my clothes are always clean and professional but so nondescript that I might as well be wearing pajamas. My hair is in between cuts and has been for about six months; my nails are short without polish. I favor orthopedic shoes.

Today I'm standing at the copy machine practicing boleos; left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. A coworker comes in, slightly dewy, and I drop my foot and stand like a normal person.

"Man," he says, "since I started running I just feel this - this power! Like, my body's a machine!" He looks me over and makes a slightly weird face. I wonder if he's looking for praise, but it looks like runner's high, or mild constipation.

I stand next to him in dumpy clothes, watching the copy machine spit paper into the tray.

He breathes in and rolls his shoulders back. "It's like I'm this superhero, you know? You think I work in an office, but surprise! I can run two miles!"

I look at his well-cut suit, his striped shirt, his matchy-but-not-too-matchy tie. "That's great," I say.

He grins. "Yeah." After a moment he frowns politely, as if trying to tell me something, and leaves.

I know that frown; I'm way too clumsy not to know that frown. I check my teeth for spinach, run my hands over my hair looking for cowlicks, sniff discreetly at my underarms.

At last I look down; there are chalky footprints on the backside of my pants.

I check my shoes.

There's construction on my floor, and the soles of my shoes are covered with powdered drywall.

My boleos have left footprints on my ass, nearly at the hip, one on top of the other.

They think I work in an office, but surprise.

Leading. No, seriously.

So at first I was just waiting for the day I'd shove my follower through a window and she'd plummet to her doom (you never know!), but it's been a few weeks, and I think I've begun to lead socially.

I've been leading a little here and there with close friends at practicas or at home, so I hadn't really put myself on the market as a lead. I'm a beginner, which speaks for itself. Plus, I'm a woman, which is a stroke against me with a lot of the women who come to the milongas solely to find a connection with guys.

Disclaimer for the above statement: don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking the search for connection at all. Man/woman is traditional tango and I'm all for it. (Except that man/man is also traditional tango, but not many guys really want to get into that, so we're right back where we started.) It's just that I personally like finding a connection with the other dancer and with the music, regardless of gender, so leading or following a member of the same sex has never really been an issue for me. Your mileage may vary.

(This disclaimer does not apply for men who don't button their shirts and for women who wear fishnet stockings and fishnet gloves at the same time. Those people are looking for a different kind of connection, if you get me. O HAAAAY.)

My following has improved immensely since I started leading. I was worried I would be unable to mentally switch back and forth, but my teacher makes sure I keep the two roles separate by switching the lead on me mid-song during our lessons, so suddenly I find myself worrying about pointing the foot instead of navigation, or about holding the follower correctly in back ochos instead of embellishments. It's awesome. No, seriously.

At a milonga this weekend, a woman I know from the scene came up and asked me to dance, mentioning that she had seen me leading one of my close friends a week ago and wanted to give it a try.

"I'm a beginner," I said, trying to think if I could possibly be interesting enough. Reviewing my library of steps, I realized it was all Easy Readers, and I blanched. "Like, really a beginner."

"Yeah, but you have nice rhythm," she said.

(Tangocoaster: 601. Me: 1!)

We agreed on just finishing the tanda - one song left, and it was di Sarli, whom I love like I love cake (I looooove cake), so I could at least give it a go.

I kept it as absolutely simple as I could, concentrating on the music and the clarity of the lead instead of anything in my Easy Reader Library of steps. Remembering how beautiful a tango walk can be, I went for feeling over footwork.

For the first time it occured to me how utterly the leader drives the song - something I hadn't had time to think about when dancing with friends or teachers who are critiquing your posture and making sure your intent is clear. Thankfully it was one of my favorite di Sarlis, so I was able to make a go of it musically.

She asked if she could dance the next tanda with me.

(Tangocoaster: 601. Me: 2!!)

Best part: passing my friends at our table, who didn't realize until that moment that I was leading a stranger. Two of them were beaming, one was tapping her shoulders to remind me not to bend my neck to the follower. That's true friendship, right there.

The Follower's Secret Guide to Embellishments

(They handed this out to followers the same day they gave this out to leaders, I swear. It’s astonishing how often I see these.)

SO YOU WANT TO TANGO

You’re on your way to becoming a beautiful tango follower. Congratulations! A world of passion awaits you. And passion gets you dances. Of course, musicality is so subjective that some leaders might not notice your passion unless you really WORK to get that message across. The easiest way to telegraph passion?

Embellishments.

Sure, Jennifer Bratt has a tutorial on nearly every embellishment you can do in close embrace. But why stick to those old, conservative adornos? Mix it up! Try some of these modern interpretations.

Ancla. Is he leading a low boleo? Make sure your foot really sweeps the floor by sagging in his arms to get that last little inch. Don’t worry, he can hold you up, and it looks extra-sad! Make no mind of other people on the dance floor – a swift, swinging object is no danger there.

Frotación. When the man invites the woman to step over, he is asking her to take the musicality into her own hands and create the most poignant adornos possible to enhance the song and create a deeper communication within the dance itself. Reward such a gallant gesture by sliding your foot from his ankle to his hip, as slowly as possible; repeat from the crotch to the floor on the way down his instep. If the music allows, rub from knee to ankle a few more times to show your gratitude. If you’re really, really grateful, make another trip to the crotch.

Perforado. This is a tricky one, and should be attempted only by those who are sure of their own strength. Wait until led into a front ocho; on the pivot, fling the free leg into the air parallel to the floor and out behind you as far as you can. This is a display of tone and flexibility, and you will know is has been successful when someone cries out that you have pierced their leg with your heel. Victory!

Video of the Week: Disturbing Prodigy Children

These kids are amazing. There are a few moments of choreography that are a little over the top and remind me of that time in fourth grade we put on a play about the dangers of drugs and one kid had to give the big monologue about how his brother died from marijuana. However, these kids are already totally astounding. I mean, seriously.

It's a little reassuring to know that I will never be as good at tango as these kids already are. No, seriously. Her axis is unreal.

ETA: Okay, she's eleven and he's ten. YEARS OLD. And they choreographed this themselves. PRODIGY CHILDREN.

(I'm sure every kid in Buenos Aires can dance like this. I'm still amazed.)

Zee Passhown of zee TAHNGOH.

From the Hollywood Reporter:

Sandra Bullock has set her sights on the world of tango and Argentina. Through her Fortis Films, the actress-producer is set to produce a film version of Marina Palmer's memoir "Kiss & Tango" with an eye to star for Fox 2000 Pictures.

... The story centers on an American woman who goes to Argentina, falls in love with a man and a culture and rediscovers herself in the process.

Okay, I'm taking bets: The next Tango Lesson or the next Take the Lead?

Technique. Haha! Ha. Ha.

Last week I had a follower's technique private lesson. I felt it would be a good investment, since it's hard to get a lot of technique attention in a group class. Group classes are for trying not to get stepped on. Privates are for that "hold your foot fifteen degrees to the right" level of critique.

The day of the lesson I got excited and put on my nice 4" stilettos and decided that I would pay attention and totally internalize everything I was told. Instead, I spent an hour trying not to fall over.

At least I internalized my teacher's look of dismay. Close enough!

I'm happy to have had the lesson, though - my focus on technique should be increasing now that I'm a little more comfortable in social dance. (I used to get cold sweats wondering, 'Can I?' Now it's more, 'Can I keep my weight on my instep?' with brief periods of WHAT IS HE DOING SACADA GAAAAH.)

The one thing I did right, apparently, is to wear the heels. Good investment there! Go me!

The Tangocoaster.

Since my resolution to dance more while not contracting Chronic Horrified Followeritis, I actually have been dancing more, so there's a lot I could write. Unfortunately, by the time I muster the energy to write in the first person (invisible-voice freelance strikes again!) it's already been eight or nine mental blogposts later and I end up wandering in a haze, wearing only four inch stilettos and a flannel nightshirt, looking desperately for any notes I might have scratched on my own arm reminding me what I wanted to write about.

Today, though, I am going to talk about something I DO remember, because it's pretty much the ONLY thing I remember from the last week. (Including where I live. Whose computer is this?)

I have come to the conclusion that I will never have two good dancing nights in a row. I am naturally uptight and one bad tanda will infuriate me up to a week later, so this is probably not the most unexpected conclusion I've drawn in my life.

Welcome to the Tangocoaster, where you can giro your way to the heights of ecstasy only to come crashing down like another woman's stiletto on your foot. (Then the open-toe shoe of your ego fills with the blood of determination, or something. I didn't really work on this metaphor beforehand.)

More than a week ago I danced at two milongas in two days. The first was at a milonga where I have never had good luck. It has something to do with the vibe of the room, which has always felt 'off' to me. Showy, maybe. All the guys lead their trickiest moves, and the women boleo as soon as they get an inch. I can never relax, which of course makes my embrace look like a Frankenstein impression, and then the guys start leading ganchos and weird spinny things and in an attempt to figure out what's going on I try to outguess my leader and it's all over. It was not good.

Tangocoaster: 1
Me: 0


The next day I went to a more informal milonga, where I was asked to dance by a man whose leading I've always liked, but who hasn't asked me before. I had pegged another six months or so before I was ready. But he asked me, and after the second tanda he said approvingly, "It feels as smooth as I had been hoping it would when I got up the nerve to ask you."

Ego trip! Clearly best tango dancer ever! Hooray!

Tangocoaster: 1
Me: like, 600

A little later into the evening, a much more experienced dancer asked me to dance. We're friendly, so I said no and explained there was absolutely no way I could keep up with him, because I am honest and also at that moment I was very very afraid. He insisted, so we danced.

...yeah.

Tangocoaster: 601
Me: 0


I'm not actually upset about this, since 1) I gave the dude fair warning it was going to suck and 2) I didn't fall over. I can expect no more of myself.

Oh, who am I kidding, I'm totally pissed. I've been practicing about two hours a night since then. Next time, tangocoaster, I'll be ready, and then the boleo of your exultation will be cut short by the back ocho of my justice!

(Metaphors: 2
Me: 0)

Attacked by the Wild Animals of Fashion.

I can't believe it. I really never thought I'd have to do this again. I mean, lately the style has been jersey skirts with uneven hems (totally fine) or gaucho pants (totally fine, more "fine for tango" than "fine in real life", but still fine) or even those capris with the I Dream of Jeannie slits up the sides (looks like a stiletto trap to me, but if you can stay aloft in them, totally fine).

Sometimes a costumey dress or a strappy top or calf-length fishnets or weird liquid-gold pants pop up on a tango video someplace, but that's okay, because if you can dance in it without falling out or tripping or something, more power to you, and I actually appreciate weird fashion. Better weird than skanky, I say - liquid-gold pants are infinitely better than wearing a filmy white skirt with a black thong, which I have seen more times than I am really comfortable with.

Anyway, my prevailing point is that I like when people dress like sensible humans, and when I see someone whose outfit seems to defy all the bounds of logic, I get confused. We all get confused, I know. We all wish we could do something about Unsmart Outfit Syndrome. But then I see this:

Tango dancers of the world, I beg you - just because a woman is wearing a dress so long she can't possibly dance in it and is bound to trip is NO REASON to enlist a group of lions to rend the bottom of her dress so you can see where her ankles are. This will not help! The lions don't like the taste of mesh, and so you get all the inconvenience of a long, ratty hemline, plus now this poor girl is going to freeze. This isn't fair - she has enough to worry about, since her dress has split at the waist and is currently displaying the outline of every empanada she's ever eaten.

Videos of the Week - Chicho, Amsterdam Milonga

I'm putting these two videos in the same post because I think it's an interesting juxatposition of performance tango against social tango.

In this first clip, Chicho Fromboli cuts up the floor. It's beautiful to watch, and he gets a whole stage on which to show off his moves.




This clip is from a milonga in Amsterdam. There is some Chicho influence on some of the moves here, but obviously toned down for dancing socially without slicing somebody's knee off. Just as interesting to me as Chicho, actually.

The Leaders' Secret Manual

Last night, I hit the dance floor in earnest, and while I had several very nice partners, I was also reminded why sometimes I prefer not to dance. Clearly, all the leaders have gotten a little pamphlet. The contents, extrapolated from experience, are below.

SO YOU WANT TO TANGO

Welcome, leader, to the world of tango. Enjoy the bustle of a milonga, the thrill of close embrace, the joy of fighting to get a woman to go from open to close embrace regardless of her preference!

Here are some tips to make your evening even better.


1. Awkward lead? Still learning a figure? Dancing with a beginner? Don't be afraid of those complicated moves - everyone loves a planeo! If the follower seems reluctant to do your amazing volcada, feel free to stop the dance and explain what she was supposed to do. Practicas are so boring, and no one's there to be impressed by your awesome choreography - a milonga's the place to prove there's always time for learning!

1a. If she doesn't get it the first time, but you have the faith, it's fine to try six or seven more times in a row. She's bound to get it eventually, right?

2. No balance? No problem! We're sure she has plenty; those heels are only, what, four inches? Lean all you want.

3. If you pull down on her left side, you get that really nice bent-over silhouette that looks so good.

4. She said no? Never fear! A woman rarely knows her own mind; ask her again in ten minutes. You'll see!

5. If you want to put your face against hers, even though she's holding her own axis a few inches away, by all means stretch your neck and drop your whole head on her. She'll probably think it's her sweat, anyway. Girls are really sweaty.

6. It is, of course, acceptable to use a woman as a weapon; that guy you hate will never see it coming if you boleo a stiletto into his leg. For this reason, it's important to pick dance partners with really sharp shoes, and see if you can target his follower while you're at it. Like bumper cars, only pointy.

7. She still won't dance with you, eh? Well, faint heart never won fair lady! Keep asking!

8. The younger they are, the better they must be. See if you can find someone at the milonga who's still in secondary school and cleave unto her. It's not creepy as long as the music is playing!

9. Pausing is for those who can't keep a beat - step lively, soldier!

10. See? Told you she'd say yes eventually. You're great at this tango thing!

Je ne sais quois.

Before you think this title makes me hopelessly pretentious, let me explain. I once got a birthday card that read, "You have that certain 'je ne sais quoi'." Then you opened the card, and inside it read, "That's French for 'card with no money in it'."

I know you think it's lame - I can see you rolling your eyes! - and that's okay. What matters is that there is never a moment in my life that card is not funny, because I'm a literalist.

So, currently, my tango has that certain 'je ne sais quoi', which is French for 'time-sucking void of back ochos'.

I'm trying to balance writing and tango, which is proving nearly impossible because my pride forbids me to progress any slower than I'm currently progressing (read: nearly a standstill) and whenever I sit down at the computer to write, even to write the blog, I end up grabbing a pair of stilettos and making a break for the nearest milonga so I can find one of 'my guys' and get in a few tandas.

My guys are the group of guys I enjoy dancing with, and whom I feel comfortable approaching with the intent of getting a dance invite. This used to be an Austenesque comedy of manners until I eventually figured out I wasted half a tanda on small talk. Now it's mostly, "Hi! Dance?"

I love my guys because we are close enough that I can ask them to dance rather than waiting for them to intuit that I like the tanda and want to give it a go. Plus, it gives me a chance to dance early in the evening and get rid of the jitters, so that when I get asked by a guy I don't know as well, my inner monologue is a little muted.

(Hint: My inner monologue is usually something like, "Don't fall don't fall DON'T FALL am I on my instep I should really pay more attention to that OMG DON'T FALL.")

I think that, as I try to balance writing and tango, my guys will end up being very important as a way to get the most of every milonga, and I won't end up feeling guilty for neglecting my writing.

No, seriously. Out of the last 14 nights? 9 milongas. It's a disease.

ps. Recently, I've noticed that the "thanks, but no thanks" attitude is one of many things that men can get away with in tango and women generally can't. If a man doesn't ask a woman to dance, everyone agrees that's his prerogative without questioning his reasons. Women, on the other hand, are expected to either dance with a guy when he asks, or decline with the world's most generous excuse.

"Oh, I'd love to, but I don't dance to De Angelis since...uh...the war."

A woman, while she technically has the prerogative to choose, has to sweat it out every time she declines, because some guy she actually wants to dance with might see her turning someone down and decide not to ask her himself. This leads to chronic, often fatal, Horrified Followeritis. You've seen their faces in every milonga, pale and dreading, hoping the guy is leading a back ocho and not a volcada. They need your support now. Please, think of the followers.

I don't know where I'm going with this except that my friends are way more polite than I am, and now one of them has Chronic Horrified Followeritis (CHF), and has expressed the hope that one day one of the real dancers will notice her kindness and ask her for a tanda. I hope she's right, but je ne sais quois.

Video of the Week 14 - Tango Lesson with Eray Yuksek

This video is the kind of thing I would like to learn in the new year, as a leader: take simple moves (in this case, the ocho cortado) and learn how to adjust them a little to make them more interesting. I also like that the first variation on this move allows the follower to make whatever adornos she'd like without taking up a lot of floor space or risking getting a stiletto caught in someone's leg.

Resolutions.

This year, I resolve to:

1. Find my axis.

2. Bring my heels together 90% of the time. (Right now I'm running at about 70%, because as soon as I start a giro it's anyone's guess where my ankles are.)

3. Become a better lead. This can be any combination of learning how to lead more complicated, interesting steps, or developing the kind of musicality that leaves room for the follower to embellish. Right now I have only one or two followers on a regular basis, and they are both wonderful women, but both have a habit of worrying for me. What this means is I will take a side step and a dramatic pause, and after two seconds she whispers, hilariously, "Um, is everything okay?"

4. I should really, really figure out how to communicate "all is well".

5. As a follower, I will learn better how to wait. If the leader hasn't told me to do something, I will endeavor to hang out and embellish or count my own eyelashes or something instead of trying to outguess him.

6. I will learn more about the music. It's a little annoying to recognize one song in fifteen and one orchestra in six. I can narrow that spread considerably, I think, if I put my mind to it.

7. I will be more openminded about nuevo.

8. A little more openminded, anyway.

9. ...We'll see.