La Planchadora

Aww.

2007-10-01T13:47:00.000-04:00

My grumpness continued unabated through the weekend, to the point where I spent most of my time at home, trying not to think about anything tango-related. Which, of course, means that I have spotless bookshelves, color-coordinated colosets, and hand-stenciled miniatures of the Taj Mahal framing the walls in my kitchen.

Okay, no I don't, but I was really committed to avoiding tango.

This morning, I pulled up a snarky news website I enjoy and saw this:

It took me a long time to realize this was an ad for something, because I was trying to decide what song they were dancing to.

It doesn't solve anything, but it's kind of adorable.

Bastardy Grump.

2007-09-25T11:54:00.000-04:00

You know, sometimes I just want to give up.

Not tango itself, but...a lot of people show up every night, dance around, go home. They tango Tuesdays, waltz Wednesdays, salsa Saturdays, swing Sundays. They do it to get out of the house, to have a good time with friends, whatever.

They don't sit around breaking their feet to the ground until their heels bruise, working on getting feet like Geraldine. They don't agonize over the length of their back step, over their embrace, over their inability to properly lead to Biagi. Tango just doesn't hurt for them, and none of my snark will make them care as much as I care.

So, what's the point?

The tango-blog-as-personal-journey has a much more lenient expiration date, since the chronicle of a life tends to make a good story no matter the subject, but this blog is anonymous, and there's only so much I can say that applies to everyone. My meaningful experiences with tango tend to happen far away from this blog; the generalities are wearing thin, especially as the internet fills up with "man, I hate it when the leader smells" posts.

So, what can you do? How many times can you say something before it stops being funny and just gets strident? How long before you turn into some asshole who blogs a thousand words a day just to listen to the sound of his own keyboard (Miles)?

Yes, I'm in a bad mood, and I'm sure my bad mood will lift in direct proportion to the number of hideous tango dresses I can find online in the next week, but for the moment...nada.

Dinner of champions.

2007-09-23T10:08:00.000-04:00

Okay, I'm soliciting comments on foods that are wise to eat before a milonga, in the hopes that some misguided person will realize that garlic pasta is not the best thing they could eat before going to a milonga and asking people to dance in close embrace?

(It's not me. I promise.)

Pretend I'm in an outpost somwhere!

2007-09-19T15:34:00.000-04:00

Work has me swamped right now, so unfortunately there hasn't been enough time to go dancing and attract some trouble worth blogging about. Pretend I'm in an outpost somewhere and my internet is being supplied with a piece of string and some eletric shocks.

I did dance a little this weekend, and was pleasantly surprised by two things:

1) My acceptance as a leader in the community is growing; women ask me on a semi-regular basis if I'm "dancing this one". I'm gratified and relieved that people no longer take it for a science experiment and accept me as one of the leaders they can choose from, the same as anyone. That...that's a very special feeling. It's the "let's dance TWO tandas" feeling.

2) My progress as a follower is...well, let's put it this way. I have a pair of suede heels that I am only recently wearing. I wore them out dancing for maybe an hour this weekend. When i got home, the nap was already worn down on the instep of the ball of the foot, and the scuffs on the bottoms of the shoes were two concentric circles, one under the big toe, one on the instep of the ball of the foot. I only remember listening for the lead and trying to stay on balance; according to my shoes, my technique is coming along on its own.

I could have cried with joy, you guys. I'm not totally hopeless as a follower! Feel the magic of totally ruining my shoes in a single night! Feel it!

Line of Dance: A Field Guide

2007-09-16T14:07:00.000-04:00

If you recognize this diagram:

you probably dance tango in North America (and yes, not in Denver, we know, we know).

This is because leaders were issued a field guide, except in Denver, because they ran out just before the Colorado border.

SO YOU WANT TO LEARN ABOUT THE LINE OF DANCE

Congratulations, tanguero! You've been to class, you've watched the vids, you've bought the shoes, you've showered almost daily, and you're on your way to greatness.

So you find yourself at the milonga, and joy of joys, a woman accepts your invitation! Now all you have to do is put that hard work to use. But don't forget that any dance can be ruined by just one fatal collision. Check out these rules of the floor to make sure your navigation is as smooth as your pick-up lines.

1. Line of dance is counterclockwise, unless you feel like going clockwise, in which case, by all means do.

2. If the guy in front of you is too slow, that's his problem. Let the music move you right past him! It's just like driving; they have two lanes for a reason.

3. If you're going to pause, then really pause. Take all the time you need. The guy behind you knows about the two lanes; if he wants to move, he'll move.

4. Sometimes you'll see a break in traffic across the room. Sieze the moment and make a break for it. The people in the middle will understand, nay, envy you.

5. After-dance bathroom break? You've played Frogger before; dodge yourself some dancers and get to the restrooms in half the time.

6. Remember, there are no slow songs, only slow dancers. Rev it up, tangueros!

Oh no he didn't!

2007-09-13T10:38:00.001-04:00

So I had another post all planned out for today, but then this happened and I wanted to write about it because HAHAHAHAH oh my GOD.

I'm leading more than following these days (I know, I know, contain your shock). As I go along, I'm discovering all the tiny adjustments that I need to make for each follower for maximum dance enjoyment. One of my favorite followers is about four inches taller than I am, and the way I hold her is completely different from the way I hold another favorite follower, who is about five inches shorter than I am (sans heels). In fact, in the beginning the only way we could dance comfortably was by taking the embrace and then taking it again, using our joining arms to gently nudge her arm up along my shoulder to a place near my clavicle where it fit. We've since found two or three other positions that work, but as two close-embrace dancers with Teh Boobs, it started out needing a little adjustment.

Oops, two more paragraphs until we get to this guy. Bear with me!

So my point is, I understand that the embrace needs to be adjusted according to physicality, preference (a couple of guys I know can't stand the fashionable open-hand semi-Urquiza embrace, and so I go for old-school milonguero embrace with them, etc etc), and what you plan to do with the song. You can probably skate through a Pugliese tanda without ever seriously opening the embrace, but if you hit D'Arienzo, you'd going to want a little more room to play.

To sum up: I am all for adjusting the embrace in the beginning of the tanda, at the beginning ot each song, in the middle of a song. I'm pro-adjusting. HOWEVER (yes, you reached it), hypothetically, I would guess it is not okay to take the embrace and then grab hold of the back of the follower's neck and try to push her head down so you're cheek to cheek. I mean, I'm just guessing.

First of all, your hypothetial follower is about six inches taller than you and doesn't want a faceful of your scalp, hypothetically.

Second of all, your hypothetical follower immediately brands you "Serial Killer" and walks off the floor to tell everyone she sees what a skeeze you are.

Thirdly, insisting the woman drop her head is forcing her to give up her axis, which makes it harder for her to dance and harder for you to lead her. Not that you'd care about this one; hypothetically, it's not really the dance you're after, you idiot, now is it?

Hypothetically.

Also, note to self: this is what comes of being nice to someone. I can't believe I went against my own advice! Then again, serves me right for stepping into Category B. If I'm not excited by the person extending the invitation, I should just decline. It would help me preserve some kind of hope for the future of tango.

Yeesh. How soon can I go to Buenos Aires?

LOLtango.

2007-09-09T15:15:00.000-04:00

Unless you're living under a rock, you probably know about LOLcats, the anthropomorphic wonders who have taken over the internet. The phonomenon is so prevalent it has its own glossary, accompanied by semi-academic thesis. It has spawned the immortal LOLTrek.

I think you know where I'm going with this.

My Internal Monologue.

2007-09-07T14:07:00.000-04:00

Preparing to go dancing tonight.

I have already gotten a couple of followers on my dance card, which I think is really awesome, because they are very nice and they asked me at the end of the last milonga I went to, sort of, "Oh, I didn't get a chance to dance with you tonight - I'll be there Friday, though, and I'd love to vals with you!"

(Nobody should love valsing with me yet, by the way. I'm not very good at it. This lady was probably tired. Or a little delusional. Very sweet, though!)

A lot of the reason it's nice (besides having tandas set up already and therefore a reason to go) is because it saves me from the Leader's Internal Monologue, which goes something like this.

"Ooooh, D'Agostino/Vargas! I love this orchestra! Hmmm, is there anyone around? Oh, there's Anne! I love dancing with her, but I wonder if she - wait, wait, did she just cabeceo me? She did! Oh awesome! Wait, no, there's something in her eye. Wait, no, it's the cabeceo! Wait, not, it's something in her eye. She's sort of getting up! Oh, she's just crossing her legs. Okay, I'll look away, no good staring. Wait, now she's staring at ME! She looks hurt! Oh no, did I hurt her feelings? Maybe she just hates this tanda. Maybe that thing is still in her eye!"

Of course, by then its song #2 of the tanda, and when Anne finally comes over I feel like the world's biggest nerd.

Anyway, I am reluctant to take a lot of intiative as a leader, since I've had one or two VERY strong rejections from women. So I guess my point is: followers, if there's a woman leader in your community and you like dancing with her, ask her to dance.

She'll love it, even if it might take her a minute or five to catch on.

Waaahnesday.

2007-09-05T15:30:00.000-04:00

Dancing last night was not great; as soon as I get nervous once, it's tough for me to recover, and unlike more seasoned tangueras like Holly, Tina, and Caroline, I still can't think, "Eh, that was a dud tanda." Instead think, "Oh GOD, my tango stock has PLUMMETED, my technique is RUINED, I will NEVER DANCE AGAIN."

I am a little bit of a pessimist.

During these times of Horrified Followeritis, it's nice to be able to lead. I find leading relaxing - there's a certain watchfulness for floorcraft, obviously, but when I am the leader I feel I am able to make a deeper connection with my partner, because I rarely trust a leader not to lead stupid shit, and my leading is so simple that my follower knows she doesn't have to worry about anything but embellishments.

(That said, sometimes I do trust a leader not to lead stupid shit, and then I'm all over the connection from the follower's side - a week or two ago I reached the end of a tanda with a leader and realized I was crying. That was pretty awesome, you guys, no lie. Except that when I cry my eyes get really red, so I look like a vampire, which sort of takes away the romance. Oh well!)

I do find it interesting that some leaders ask for a dance now by saying, "So, are you past following?"

It's asked as if following is a lesser stage of dancing that one goes through in order to reach the more enlightened and elite plateau of leading, and I find it weird and off-putting.

I totally understand asking, "Do you still follow?" because that indicates a preference and is a totally valid question to which the answer is, "Do you lead ganchos?"

But to ask (and always with a tone that's a little...defensive? Challenging? I dunno) if I'm "past following" is sad, mostly because I personally find leading a hell of a lot easier than following. Following is the hard part, you guys! Haven't you seen the shoes?!

Ah well. These are the same guys who refer to women as "follows" and not "followers", even though a "follower" is a human being and "follow" is a present-tense verb. Stop turning perfectly good humans into gerunds, people, seriously! (And before you ask, no, saying someone is a good "lead" is not the same thing; it's also wrong, since "lead" is a verb and "leader" is a noun, but the implications of a brain-dead shell in nice shoes is not present.) So I guess I shouldn't expect much from this particular breed of guy. And yet, I get a little annoyed every time, half because of the implied misogyny and half because it's just bad grammar, and there is never an excuse for bad grammar.

I'm going to try again a little later this week and see how the following goes, but je ne sais quoi.

Bugs.

2007-09-03T20:54:00.000-04:00

I HATE bugs. HATE them. I just spent ten minutes in a war with a grasshopper that involved a broom, a vacuum, girly screaming, jumping around, scolding the grasshopper, and the throwing of shoes. Not tango shoes, of course, but still.

I was planning to go out tonight and catch a dance or two, but killing the bug totally wore me out and I am still not sure if I can relax enough to dance. Bugs wind me up THAT much.

Tell me a pretty story that involves tango and NOT bugs.

Aww!

2007-09-02T20:10:00.000-04:00

I love seeing a woman strap on a new pair of shoes for the first time; the gleam in her eye as she crosses her legs in her chair and subtly checks out her own feet.

I am totally jealous of that woman, whoever she is, wherever she is. I want some new shoes, dammit!

Though I might as well actually go to Buenos Aires, since by the time I bought all the shoes I wanted at the American import prices I will have paid for airfare and approximately fifteen weeks in the Hilton. I have a serious lust for shoes, you guys. It's like zombies and brains.

When Animal-Attacked Dresses Attack!

2007-08-30T10:13:00.000-04:00

The online tango storefront is a treacherous place. You can be swimming along, clicking through pictures of strappy shoes, Pugliese CDs, not-so-strappy shoes, that print of two people dancing that is some kind of tango government issue. You're enjoying yourself. It's good times.

And then, you click on 'Apparel'.

Not bad! you think to yourself. Sure, she seems a little awkward in this pose - maybe she doesn't like pink? Neither do you, but if someone paid you you'd wear it. And the skirt has a little flair, the waist a little interest, and it looks very comfortable and easy to move in. You wonder if it comes in black, and you scroll down.

That's when it happens.

A vicious, pixelated attack on this poor model, whose blue velvet dress was violently ripped away until nothing remained but a neon foundation garment and a ragged slip of skirt that can't avoid revealing the high-waisted, lacey, monokini granny panties that lurk beneath! Your only consolation is that her fishnets obviously have plenty of animal-repellent control-top action, and that she will be able to walk for help without her legs freezing. She will make it through this. She will, in time, forget.

Can you?

Boiling down, boiling over.

2007-08-29T09:30:00.000-04:00

Okay, people.

I've witnessed two fundamental approaches to tango, beyond differences in style and ability and geography and family legacy and dietary requirements and tectonic plates and whatever else:

A) Dancing with you is a pleasure for me.

B) Dancing with me is a pleasure for you.

The rise of tango blogging has brought these two mindsets into sharp relief, and there could be college papers written on how these mindsets are split almost exactly along gender lines, with women in category A and men in category B. (In fact, I think I am the only female blogger bastardy enough to be lumped with the males. Go me?)

However, I'm putting aside all the gender implications etc etc. because I graduated college a looong time ago and have no wish to go back. We'll do this in general terms.

People in category A understand that when you ask someone to dance and they accept, or when someone asks you to dance and you accept, some accomodation might need to be made. Tango is not (supposed to be) stage dance. You get four songs for a reason - tango's a conversation. You can spend the first song introducing yourselves, the second song finding a mutually agreeable topic, and the last two songs listening to the music.

Most good leaders and followers are in this category. We like these people. They're nice. They say hi. They like puppies!

People in category B think that they're so good that people are lucky to get to dance with them.

People who would be in category B for a good reason: Julio, Corina, Gustavo, Geraldine, Javier, Graciela, Firpo, Dany, Natacha, Tete, Silvia, Samantha, Pablo, Silvina, Sergio, Alejandra, Fabian, Carolina, and company.

People from that list who are actually in category B: probably Pablo. He seems like kind of a poop. Everybody else is very gracious in declining, or very gracious in dancing, which puts them back up in Category A.

People who are in category B and shouldn't be: almost everyone besides those people.

When someone agrees to dance with you, you're enjoying the dance together. It's not a one-man show, it's not an embellishment class, and it's not a practica redux. It's a conversation set to music. If you want to be a stand-up comedian, a debate-club member, or a lounge singer, go for it, but tango is not a solo act, and the person dancing with you is not a prop. If she's trying to feel Fresedo and you're hitting the traspie, you're not listening to her.

Huh. This was supposed to be gender-neutral, but come to think of it, I've danced with women way out of my league and they never made me feel like they were doing me a favor (even though they obviously were), so it's back on the dudes. Get the hell out of category B, man!

It's not you, it's me.

2007-08-27T09:50:00.000-04:00

Recently I've thought about some projects for the blog that might be funny, or useful, or good for picking your teeth with, or something. The problem is, I hesitate to turn this blog into a Real Project. I get caught up enough in this crazy tango blog world without attempting a serious endeavor, and I'm pretty sure I could be putting energy into my job or my house instead of contemplating a parody of Jennifer Bratt's embellishment series, you know?

On the other hand, I have these hilarious tango shoes I could use...

See? See what happens?! *sigh*

Fridaywheee!

2007-08-24T13:24:00.000-04:00

Oh, how I love Jorge Firpo. He's part of my tango crime-fighting team! In this clip, he's doing a class demo with one of his students, and as usual when Firpo dances, he's awesome.

This is what a weekend should feel like. Dance, my moustached pretty! Dance!

Where's my Cure CD?

2007-08-22T15:39:00.000-04:00

Was feeling a little emo earlier this week about my leading plight, and even wrote a post to that effect before I realized I sounded, by turns, emo and arrogant. No one comes here for the emo, and if you want blogs from arrogant tango leaders, I think any tango blog written by a man is pretty much taking care of that, so have fun! (Exception, as always, for Tango and Chaos.)

Instead, I have decided to bring you another installment of "The History of Tango Music." Part 3 of 34,985.

3. "Umbrella", Rihanna and her eight million ghostwriters

Lyric sample:

No clouds in my storms
Let it rain, I hydroplane in the bank
Coming down with the Dow Jones.

I have no idea what this means. Any takers? Okay, so that's not fair, it's from the intro rap. We'll try something from the body of the song:

Now that it's raining more than ever
Know that we'll still have each other
You can stand under my umbrella
You can stand under my umbrella
(Ella ella eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(Ella ella eh eh eh)

Oooooookaaay.

What makes it tango?: Not a thing. I just don't get this song whatsoever, and you guys all have to suffer, too.

Playable?: I don't know. Let's ask the eight million people driving around with their windows down and their subwoofers shaking the ground under your feet who have been playing this song on repeat for six weeks.

Actually, there are acoustic versions of this song that are "tango" in that they keep 4/4 time, but the eight-count phrasing is missing, so dancing to it would get boring, and seriously, nothing is sadder than a soulful, earnest, acoustic version of a terrible song. Nothing.

If you, lucky soul, haven't heard this song yet, the video is here.

Things to note:

1) They're not even trying with the en pointe stuff. It's the legs of an en point dancer, and Rihanna's top half. They do not even try to fool you on this.

2) Good girl + top hat and shorts = bad girl. Warn Liza Minelli!

Milonga

2007-08-20T00:09:00.001-04:00

Campeonato, baby!

Second round of the Milonga division. I have my favorites; do you?

(I also have some least favorites that make me question how they managed to squeak through into the second round, though what I can find of the first round is inconclusive and so I can't see how good the pool was prior to this.)

(This is, of course, on the context of Best Milonga Couple in the World; any social leader could look like any one of these guys and that would be absolutely fine with me. Aaaaabsolutely fine.)

PS. My favorite couple won. Yay! (I had no idea what their names were, and had to identify them by their outfits. I am clearly very knowledgeable. They're the couple in tan/leopard.)

PPS. These guys had to perform for the judging panel of: Marta Anthon, El Flaco Dany, Aurora Lubiz, Julio Balmaceda, Graciela Gonzalez, Teté, Gachi Fernandez and Juan Fernandez.

HAHAHAHAHAAHA how did they manage to even dance in front of that panel? If confronted with all those people, I would have a heart attack and die. And then worry they would critique my death technique. I am having a panic attack just looking at that list of names.

Sigh.

2007-08-19T12:12:00.000-04:00

Every once in a while, it all comes together.

I played hooky with a project yesterday - just got fed up, grabbed heels, and ran for the door without spending half an hour debating my outfit, debating if I should go, what it would mean if I led first rather than following for a while first.

Ended up having one of my best following nights ever. My weird head thing is magically fixed, I was able to relax and wait without trying to second guess my leader, and the music was perfect (well, there could have been a little more Di Sarli, but you could play nothing but Di Sarli all night and I would still be like, "There could have been a little more Di Sarli..."). And apparently, putting no thought into tango is the best thing you can do for it? I mean, I have a solid axis all of a sudden! I'm getting amazing compliments on my musicality and feeling!

This is not me, but it felt like that! Photo by Nadasdy, click to go to the Flickr.

I had the option to stay longer, but after a while it felt like tempting fate and I packed it in and left.

In conclusion: best night of hooky EVER. It's like playing hooky from school, except that instead of you spending all day sitting around watch TV and then your parents finding out and grounding you, you play hooky and end up meeting a rock band by accident and they take you on tour with them.

With Wolves, I Say!

2007-08-17T15:26:00.000-04:00

I have found another charming gentleman in the tango blogosphere. "Milongas/No hay luz/Ask Aleandro" (yes, that's the actual title) features, among other things, Ask Aleandro, where Neil's alter-ego Aleandro answers tango questions "from readers". Except, he sort of doesn't answer them at all.

Aleandro,
Why do women want to lead?
Gracias,
Sampson, a strong man with long hair

Dear Sampson,
If she chooses to dance with women that's up to her. But for me, it's better to dance with wolves than to dance with a woman who leads other women.
I'm old fashioned . . . like an Old World Gentleman . . . like a Milonguero from Buenos Aires.
Be careful. Don't let your guard down or fall asleep. She may cut your hair or other parts of your body that keep you strong.
Chau,
Aleandro

Okay, a few things.

1) The English major in me is totally stressed out that he didn't answer the question. Address the topic! Your "reader" wants to know about the motivation, not your aversion! It's like Composition 101 over here! Gah!

2) Dude has a castration thing going on that I don't really understand. Ew.

3) I am going to start using the "dance with wolves" thing everywhere I go, in all situations. It's priceless.

"Planchadora, would you like a second helping of potatoes?"
"I would rather dance with wolves than eat more of your potatoes!"

"You should come out with us!"
"I would rather dance with wolves than stay up significantly past my regular bedtime!"

"Welcome to Macy's! What can I help you with today?"
"I would rather dance with wolves than wear your casual career clothing!"

(This all must be said in Bombastic Renaissance Faire Nobleman Voice, obviously.)

ETA: I'm seriously practicing it. "I would rathah dahnce with WOOOOOLVES than wear your causal careeah clothing!"

ETA 2: The one pointed out in the comments is even funnier. These are the fakest "readers" in the land.

A Guide to Invitations, by a Traumatized Dancer.

2007-08-16T12:39:00.000-04:00

Ways Guys Should Maybe Not Ask for Dances, with Commentary Entirely in Punctuation:

"Hey, you're a lot thinner than the last time I saw you!" (!)

"Have you worked on your volcadas any? We could try them out." (??)

"Hey, for a second I thought you were Jake! New haircut?" (...)

"Let me just rub your shoulders." (!!)

Now look, I am as sensitive to anyone else as to the horrors of making conversation with people from whom you want something. It's why I am a terrible salesperson, because my mindset is: why the hell should I make people buy something I'm not enthusiastic about myself?

However, hearing all of these things within 24 hours of each other really makes me despair as to the level of conversation people can expect at milongas. Two of these are embarrassing, one is sort of hilariously challenging, and one is just creepy. When you walk up behind someone and rub their shoulders, you had better be a blood relative or a romantic partner of that person, you guys. Seriously. I should not have to spell this out for anyone.

(Can you tell I got the fourth guy? Still shuddering. No touching without express permission, people; it's common courtesy.)

Best part? He was surprised - nay, hurt and confused! - when I declined the dance.

Gentlemen! When asking for a dance, maybe something a little more innocuous? When in doubt, please feel free to print out and refer to this handy guide.

TOPICS TO AVOID:

Weight loss, weight gain, visible cleavage, extreme youth, extreme age, skirt length, our inevitable mortality, your desire to rub her shoulders, body odor (hers or someone else's), how much better you are than her chosen partner, this great new move you learned in class and wish to try out, your desire to rub her shoulders, politics, your cousin Bob who's doing 3 to 5 for car theft, this weird rash you have on your knee, your desire to rub her shoulders.

ACCEPTABLE TOPICS:

Shoes, the weather, the music, the crowd, puppies, personalities of recent guest teachers, anticipation of upcoming guest teachers, ice cream, YouTube tango videos, and economics.

QUIZ

Name the unacceptable topic in the following invitations.

a) "I love this orchestra! Would you like to dance?"

b) "I'm on my way to dance at the moment, but I would love to have a vals tanda with you later, if you'd like to?"

c) "This lighting is really flattering to you! Would you like to dance?"

d) "Nice to see you! Would you like to dance?"

Funny story.

2007-08-13T14:09:00.000-04:00

"So, you guys will never believe what happened to me! I got all dressed up for the milonga in this adorable red dress, and on the way over I was like, I'll walk through the zoo! Because I just love animals, you know I do, like seals and kittens and all the other animals that dont' smell bad. Anyway, so I was walking through the zoo and I passed the big cats; apparently cats don't like the color red or something? Like I was supposed to know, right? Exactly! They pulled it off me right away, though, so not even a scratch - oh, well, the dress. But whatever, right? It's still totally cute! Anyway, I'm here now. Who wants to dance?"

I have a magic power.

2007-08-09T10:25:00.000-04:00

I have a magic power.

When I'm changing into my tango shoes, I take off a street shoe and grab the first tango shoe I can get hold of inside my bag. (It's a big bag, not your normal shoe bag.) No matter what street shoe I remove first, I pull out the tango shoe for the corresponding foot.

Magically.

I mean, sure, it's not levitation or anything, but being able to blindly change tango shoes in under thirty seconds is pretty cool when you're switching shoes all night. I consider it a power, much in the way there was an X-Men miniseries comic where Dazzler's powers overwhelm her in a huge metaphor for drug addiction, and she goes to mutant rehab after burning out, and some girl at rehab has the mutant power to change the color of a flower she's holding, and Dazzler thinks about how nice it is that not all mutants have destructive crazypants powers.

Yeah, I didn't leave the house much as a kid.

P.S. I think Dazzler, whose power was turning sound into light, should probably not have been quite so pensive about useless mutant powers, is all I'm saying.

Anyway, that awesome mutant tango power aside, the tangocoaster continues to roll along. I have a great axis! Oops, I have no axis. I have steps like Corina! I step like a duck. My leading's amazing! Except when it's not. I'm totally awesome! Oh, wait, no, I'm The Suck.

That rhymes, but I didn't notice until I was finished with it and I'm not changing it. We'll all just pretend I'm Dr. Seuss.

It's been a little while since I posted, and there are two things in the Bastardy Grump category I feel I need to address:

Firstly. Followers, when you are doing a back ocho, you really need to collect your feet. If you don't collect your ankles and swing your straight leg backwards, you are not making an ocho but a shallow planeo. And if it's Pugliese, or space and the music allow, a nice shallow planeo looks beautiful. (A deep planeo looks like stage tango, or, if poorly executed, like you're ducking a low-level aircraft.) It's a very nice adornment. But I know you're not doing 16 planeos a tanda as adornments, and the people you're tripping know that, too. Ankles and insteps, followers. Take all my other snarking with a grain of salt, but you really can't go wrong with this one. Ankles and insteps.

Secondly. Leaders. I understand you know how to do twenty great moves. The thing is, you don't need to know twenty great moves. You know what a follower is fine with? This:

This is the best of both worlds. You get to look smooth and confident and still show off your cross-track and sacada skills. She gets to walk nicely, do a few little adornments, and feel like she's listening to the music with you, not just following because of you.

(Seriously, people, tango is not driving a car or directing a follower. Tango is a conversation. The language is music, and the topic is whatever you two decide. It's not a monologue with an audience. The follower is half the dance; don't forget her.)

This is a much calmer point than it could be, because I had the pleasure of thinking about this while appreciatively watching a leader with this style, as opposed to my normal M.O., which is watching (and wanting to strangle) guys who insist on gancho/sacada combinations all the time.

I'm traveling on business tomorrow, so there's no tango for me this weekend unless I can find some in Town. (Not the same Town. Town B, I guess. I'm bad at this game.) However, given my luck with finding tango in capital-T Towns, I'll probably just spend the weekend YouTubing.

What did sequestered tango people do before YouTube?

O RLY? Redux

2007-08-07T13:52:00.000-04:00

So, apparently if a woman can't get dances and isn't willing to go around asking for them, she should learn to lead so she doesn't sit out .

1) Upbraiding a woman for not seeking out leaders is sort of hypocritical coming from a guy who complains about having to dole out "gift dances" to women, no?

2) Learning to lead is something you should do because you want to experience the dance a different way. It is as much a learning curve as following. To suggest that a woman leads because she can't get dances sort of devalues all the work, which is again a little hypocritical coming from a guy who takes multiple privates a week (for all the good it does him).

3) Who still says "bug up your butt"? Is this The Waltons suddenly?

4) Seriously, "gift dances".

5) Also, apparently he doesn't like Ney Melo's style of embrace and is headed to Buenos Aires.

...

...ooooookay.

Of course, this is just my two cents, since Caroline's response is delightfully profane and direct and took care of all the major points. Click the link above, scroll down, and enjoy.

Now That's Skill.

2007-08-02T23:56:00.000-04:00

They're kissing mid-dance.

1) Now that is skill.

2) Now that is connection.

P.S. That is also really good disassociation, no? She's like a Gumby!

(Picture taken by Thaddeus Harden.)

My First Dance

2007-07-31T00:24:00.000-04:00

So, I just realized I've been dancing tango for about a year.

In all that time, I've really danced three times.

Now, I'm a picky bastard, so if I don't feel a human connection with someone I'm not dancing with them. (Not romantic, mind you, just human. For instance, are you a big jerk? Do you kick puppies? Do you pick your nose in public? Are you one of those people who takes up two seats during rush hour? Well, guess what.)

Even if I feel a human connection and the person's dancing is crappy, I'm still not going to dance with them. So really, my amount of comfortable tandas is really high. (Let's ignore back when I was a baby beginner and I would dance with anybody. Those were dark days.)

However, I'm usually too nervous to really relax and find that elusive, awesome Followerland. My own fault, I'll relax eventually, etc etc. I know that eventually it will happen. *cough* Buenos Aires *cough*

In the meantime, I've had dances three times where it ended and I didn't really remember what had happened in the middle. It was just that good. It was like the pistachio-ice-cream-covered, dark-chocolate-brownie of tango.

Had one of those this week. I'm good for, like, a month. Mmmm, tangostachio.

YOU GUYS.

2007-07-28T21:11:00.001-04:00

OH.

MY.

GOD.

IT'S A BEAUTIFUL DREAM. A beautiful, shiny, dangerously-pointy dream! A punched-leather, asymmetric, perfectly molded open-toe dream!

If this place isn't real, please don't tell me. I just want to sit back and imagine that if I'm a good girl, when I wake up tomorrow, my closet will look like this.

This coronary brought to you by this person, who I still like very much even though her pictures wouldn't blog and I had to fiddle for, like, twenty minutes to get that one picture to work.

Alejandra y Sergio.

2007-07-26T14:48:00.001-04:00

Recently I attended the New York Summer Tango & Film Festival; I wasn't going to say anything out of the ordinary about it, because while it's nice, it's not the kind of festival I would tell people to go out of their way for; I will be making the trip back if the rumors about the October festival are true (JULIO Y CORINA OMG), but otherwise New York can mind its own business.

However.

I took a few classes with Alejandra Arrue & Sergio Natario. They taught intermediate/advanced level classes in vals, milonga lisa, milonga traspie (eee!), and musicality. I didn't catch them all, because I'm stupid and I sleep late, but they are some of the best classes I've ever had. They yell at you, they kick your feet into the correct position, they call the class "children". They've been dancing tango together for years -- 22 years? 23 years? I didn't catch it, I was busy trying to place my foot before they came over and kicked me again -- and it shows.

If you are in Seattle, or going to Seattle, TAKE A PRIVATE WITH THEM. For my sake, if not for your own. They are taskmasters, they are passionate, and they have given me things that will change the way I dance. If I had known, I would have taken two hours a day with them, and I am not even kidding. It would have been worth the money three times over. I've already been complimented on the way I hold my axis now, after two days of group class. *kicks self for not taking privates, envies anyone in Seattle right now*

Here's them dancing Morena, and you guys - you know that Julio and Corina are my SVF (Stalking Victims Forevah!), but Alejandra and Sergio might be creeping up on them. Seriously.

(This isn't the version I saw during the Black and White Ball, but still! Morena!)

Ten Things You Will Probably Not Overhear at Your Milonga.

2007-07-22T23:05:00.000-04:00

1. "These Comme il Fauts are okay, I guess - do you have anything less flashy?"

2. "You know, I really enjoy dancing with beginners."

3. "Musical leads scare me."

4. "I don't know - Biagi just doesn't move me like Tanturi does. I'll sit this one out."

5. "This line of dance is looking SHARP!"

6. "I don't know - she's a little TOO thin."

7. "When a guy leads that sixth gancho in a row, my heart just melts!"

8. "I prefer a woman with a really stoney embrace."

9. "There's not enough room on the dance floor - let's save the nuevo for later."

10. "Let's just dance."

Video of the Week: No, Seriously.

2007-07-19T15:41:00.000-04:00

Milonga is my absolute favorite.

People who can dance actual Milonga instead of just Fast Tango are my double absolute favorite.

Women who can follow Milonga instead of just Fast Tango are my triple absolute favorite.

Men who can lead Milonga instead of just Fast Tango are my quadruple favorite. (There are, like, three in my community! THREE! WHITHER, you guys, seriously!)

People whose feet move like little hovercrafts are my favorite, favorite, favorite.

This is Flaco Dany and Silvina Valz. When I make it to Buenos Aires I'm totally taking his milonga classes as a leader. He allows it without fuss, which makes him a cool cat.

I've already taken a few classes with Silvina, and she's one of the few people in front of whom I got absolutley starstruck and tongue-tied. I mean, I'm a bastardy grump, we all know this, but usually I can summon a "Oh, hello!" if someone greets me. The first time I saw Silvina in a social setting after class went like this:

Silvina: Hi!
Me: ...............

I just couldn't think of anything to say that didn't involve me leaping on her and shouting wildly, "SHOW ME THAT THING YOU DO WITH YOUR FEET!"

Not that it would make much difference; I think she could show me for the rest of her life and I wouldn't get it.

ANYWAY, ignoring my crippling social problems, here's the video.

Dancing on the Ceiling

2007-07-17T18:33:00.001-04:00

Nothing like realizing you have a milonga to get to, and no time to make it home, so you're in businesswear with one pair of shoes on you.

Naturally, like any tango-obsessed person with half an hour to hit all the necessary retail outlets, I fled. Managed to run into a store and grab a shirt without looking - just running my hand along the rack for fabric and drape (I used to sew; this molesty little method is foolproof for me, and my friends are consistently amazed). It's my favorite shirt now, by the way; classy, not revealing, and more comfortable than pajamas.

Stop 2 was the pharmacy, where I snagged thosee Dove wipes that make you smell like baby powder instead of Dirty, Sweaty Hippie. My partners were probably more excited about this than about my nice shirt.

I had a fantastic night. Every time a tanda came on that I like, one of my favorite leaders asked me to dance, so it constantly sounded like this:

Oooh, I LOVE this orches - "Oh, sure!"

It was totally the shirt. It wasn't even a skanky shirt, either! Double awesome! (What? It really wasn't! You could wear this shirt in front of your mom!)

I even enjoyed a tanda of alternative, mostly because it was danced in close embrace far, far away from the flailing nuevoistes. (Flee, milongueros; their colgadas will topple us all!)

This was all great - right up until the last tanda of the night, when a guy in my circle of friends asked me to dance and proceeded to stage-tango me all over the room. After two dances I cut it short, said I was too tired for his kind of tango, and went home.

He knows my tango preferences, and can dance in the simple way I prefer, I've seen him do it with other followers, but with me, for whatever reason, he chooses to try out all his stage moves. I'm tango-breaking-up with him.

Next to come: that weird period where he asks all our mutual friends what the matter is and leaves notes in my locker between classes and cuts in front of me in the lunch line.

(It was totally the shirt.)

Pet Peeve.

2007-07-13T12:39:00.000-04:00

Okay, you know what? Part of my grump of the last few weeks is that when tango blogs come up in conversation with non-dancers the next words out of that person's mouth are, "You know this one guy....?"

I'm sure you all know the guy I mean; his incessant self-promotion makes certain you know him. (Though apparently he's always emailing friends and all those blanket posts are an accident? Which...he must be emailing tango-laura, tango-lorraine, and tango-lulu a ton, I guess.)

Luckily, for real tango dancers, he posts regular video evidence that he's nothing but badly-written hot air, so there's no danger of them taking him seriously. They look, they laugh, they move on.

Unfortunately, for the layperson, it might be harder to distinguish someone who has a lot to say from someone who has something of value to say. So I usually end up saying, "For insight into tango, ask an old Argentine, please."

I don't offer any, because I don't have any beyond "I like to dance with you" or "I don't". I have opinions, obviously, because everyone with a blog has opinions. But insight? Ask Tete. Ask Osvaldo. Ask Corina. Sit down to dinner with the Disparis. Don't look to me, and seriously, don't look to him.

Now, if laypeople want to talk about dresses, that's another story...

Have you seen my funny?

2007-07-10T23:56:00.000-04:00

I lost it somewhere.

It's not like I haven't been dancing, either; I've just fallen into that scary trap of thinking about dancing. Danger, Will Robinson!

I have been leading a lot, but there is no point I can see at the moment in describing leading, since tango is not a math class. You either do it badly, in which case you lose your follower, or you do it well, and you and your follower make it to the end.

There's technical things I can talk about (like the fun of finding out my favorite hand position in the midst of adjusting my embrace to the best hand position for every follower. I try to be an accomodating leader, since I'm still a beginner, but I love finding little pieces of a personal style), but really, you can either cut it or you can't. Right now, I'm just trying to cut it.

I have been following (not as much, since it's much easier to find a good follower to lead than a good leader to follow). I am picky. I am not sure how much I will be following in future, unless I go to Buenos Aires, where I am predisposed to think well of leaders.

It's even more hopeless for me to talk about following, since all the emotions that make up that deep, unshakeable core of following are too complex to articulate and too personal to quantify.

It probably does have a universal term that I just don't know; like, somewhere in Amsterdam and somewhere in Peru and somewhere in Tokyo three women are sitting down at their friends' tables and saying, "Lamkrix!" and everyone's nodding knowingly.

I had a comment from my tango teacher that upset me so much I was unable to dance for a week.

I had one compliment that made all the rest of this worthwhile.

This week, I'm going dancing.

(Probably not in these.)

Grump.

2007-07-05T01:56:00.000-04:00

As my life gets busier, I get less and less tolerant of tango, and at the moment I have a few things I'd love to write about, but they would be through bitch-colored glasses, and I'd just rather wait until I don't want to strangle anyone. So when my life quiets down and I can hear myself thinking, I'll try to spell some things out with less vitriol than right now. For now, sleep.

And now: a private lesson with Planchadora.

2007-07-02T12:29:00.000-04:00

[Scene: a dance studio.]

Players:
Me, a hapless tango dancer of one year
Bailarina, a tango dancer of approximately one million years

[The lesson begins.]

Me: I'd like to work on leading turns.

Bailarina: Bueno.

[She demonstrates the turn she'd like me to do.]

Bailarina: Begin.

...no.

...no.

...no.

...better.

...no.

...no.

...no.

...no.

...no.

...yes, almost! ...no.

...no.

Me: [falls over dead]

Happy Lazyversary!

2007-06-25T17:21:00.001-04:00

I've been dancing tango for more than a year. For exactly five days more than a year, because I was too damn lazy to update on the one-year mark. Oh, the passion I bring to the dance!

...makes me tired and so I sleep through whole days of blogging opportunities? Something like that.

A year ago, I danced around a little and knew immediately that I sucked.

Today, I think I suck even more than I did when I started, because that first day I had nothing to lose, and now I know how far I will have to go to be a real tango dancer in my own eyes. (Other people's expectations of me have not been factored into this post. To document outside pressure on my dancing is the last thing I need.)

I have improvements to make, but publically cataloging your list of things to work on is pointless and indulgent. If you are not good enough, then get better.

So, I plan to get better.

Ideally, I will make it to Buenos Aires this year and get verbally abused by disapproving Argentines whom I have paid to abuse me in the hopes that I will improve. (Probably because my sobbing tears will have make the floor slippery so my steps are nice and long.)

Hopefully, the verbal abuse by the Argentines will only be in the classroom and not so much on the dance floor, because man, would THAT be awkward.

Plus, I will buy about 85 pairs of tango shoes, because that's pretty much the only thing to do until the afternoon milonga starts! Well, that and eat alfajores, but man, that's the last thing I need. At least tango shoes have no calories.

Until this hypothetical trip takes place, however, I will just be dancing, and planning to get better.

...any day now.

Time to Stalk, Vals-Style!

2007-06-21T13:41:00.000-04:00

When you're stressed, I highly recommend a little Julio-and-Corina-stalking. Less fattening than chocolate, and twice as full of feet!

(Metaphor, you win again!)

I normally do not like vals. I think they're pretty, but the mood just isn't me. However, Julio and Corina make a strong case for it.

Things I like about this video:

1) The fact that a minute into this video they start grinning at each other and don't stop.

2) The fact that even though this is a stage performance, Corina still shoots him one or two looks like, "Uh, what's with the turns, buddy?"

3) The "dramatic" lighting makes them look like Smurfs.

Following.

2007-06-19T16:16:00.000-04:00

Someone posted a comment on Leading, linking me to his thoughts on followers and their necessary traits. I didn't read it, since being both a follower and a leader leaves me with plenty of fodder for my own posts, and if anyone here thinks I don't have as many opinions on following as I do on leading, they clearly have never been here before.

Here's the "Following" post that was originally going to go up tomorrow until I found this amazing video clip and couldn't wait any more.

The four walls that a follower needs: patience, balance, a good embrace, musicality.

I'd say these are more or less in order of importance, mostly because patience refers both in waiting for the lead and in learning how to follow well. While a man can build the walls of his house in six months, a woman has to learn how to stretch her leg out fully behind her in a four-inch stiletto toe-first, and maintain perfect balance freehand, and if you think that takes less than a year you're an optimist and also a little delusional.

Clearly, the balance has to come next, and the embrace, because, though it's sad to say, a nonmusical follower with good technique will get dances over a musical follower who feels heavy or wobbly.

Followers, you cannot anticipate the lead; if he leads it badly or muddily, don't do it. To not follow a bad lead will embarrass him, but to anticipate a move and guess wrong embarrasses you. Just because he did something six times in a row doesn't mean he'll do it the seventh time. Wait and see.

Balance is more important than extension, embellishments, or attitude. At the end of a giro, you should be collected; a beautiful, off-balance boleo is not worth it.

A good embrace is not a vise, and it is not a hovercraft; find a comfortable position, and know that it will change as you move. Adapt. Don't use his shoulders as a prop, or his shoulder blade as bread dough. No kneading, no gripping, no holding on for dear life. If you have to hold on for dear life, don't dance with him. An embrace is just that; hug the guy and go with it.

Musicality in a follower is not appreciated as it should be, but if you are musical, so much the better for you. It might not benefit you with leaders who don't know how to wait or give space to the follower, but it will seep into your dance nonetheless and turn you from a follower into a dancer. All the other walls you build for your leader. Musicality is a wall you build for yourself.

This is a demo done by Natalia Hills and her partner; she has flawless balance, supported and relaxed posture, musical embellishments. Perfect long steps. She doesn't follow; she dances.

Leading.

2007-06-19T11:23:00.000-04:00

Okay, this is the bastardy grump post I did not post before, but it keeps coming up and I figure I might as well post it instead of boring all my tango friends with the same grump endlessly.

If you are a man in tango, you probably: are a man (sounds obvious, but bear with me, I have a point), walk foward, dictate the dance.

Despite what a lot of you guys seem to think, none of this makes you a leader. It just makes you a man in tango.

What makes a leader: a good embrace, intent, musicality, ability to pause.

These are universal constants. Now, you don't have to move like Zotto, or have the musicality of Julio, or pause like Gavito; they are masters, and you need only be competent. Take a breath, back away from the YouTube, and relax.

However, to be considered competent, you MUST have all four of these things. There is NOTHING that will make up for a lack of these things. No pattern or cologne or pair of snappy shoes will make up for any of these four things, much the same way as really gorgeous furniture will not make up for the fact that your house only has three walls. You need all four.

If you have great musicality but no intent, you'll step on me. If you have musicality but no ability to pause, you'll artfully dance me around but be unable to collect me. If you don't have a good embrace, I won't have confidence in anything else you do.

These four things take dedication and some time to develop, but by six months of any kind of class or practice whatsoever you should be able to listen to the music, walk nicely without stepping on your follower, and collect without wobbling.

Your followers need it. Really, we do. We don't need sacadas. We hate ganchos. Boleos injure other dancers. Just listen to the music and walk nicely. Let us know you're there. If the music allows, stand quietly with us for a moment; balance us, check in on us. We just want safe houses, really.

If we say no to a dance, and you ask why, we may say a lot of things, but what we're really telling you is, "Your house only has three walls."

If you think you can't do it, or you can't imagine what I mean, or you want proof it looks cool enough, this is Jorge Dispari walking with his daughter Samantha.

Online Videos by Veoh.com

Just saying.

Frightening.

2007-06-18T00:34:00.000-04:00

When my feet hurt before I started tango, it was an annoyance. I hobbled around for a day or so until everything got better, or until it didn't get better and I just decided to use the powers of my aching metatarsals to tell people when it was going to rain. No fix, no problem. If I could walk from my desk to the fridge, I was still fine.

This weekend I danced on a suboptimal dance floor that made pivoting difficult; the leaders, not noticing or not caring, lead exactly the ochos and giros they would have led if we had been dancing on ice. I had been so starved out from two tangoless weeks that I didn't care, and when I danced I threw my heart and my feet into it. My embellishments scraped the floor like nails; my shoes laid rubber when I turned.

Two days later, my right foot is still killing me, and I'm walking carefully around the house, insoles shoved into a pair of bedroom slippers, annoyed that I might be another two weeks without tango, quietly terrified that I've done something to my foot that can't be fixed.

I sit at my desk and bend my foot this way and that way, slowly, ignoring the painful pull. This has not happened. This will not happen.

My bones scrape against one another.

I look at my shoes.

Video and Grumpness Digest.

2007-06-13T12:47:00.000-04:00

I had a big long entry I was going to post about the difference between leading and leaders, but I'm sitting on it for the moment because it's a little grumpy even for me.

I have to remember sometimes that very few people are taking tango as seriously as I take it, so when they see a bad leader they think, "Man, he sucks," and go on with their day. Meanwhile, I feel physically pained that the guy is corrupting the dance with his awfulness and have to resist the urge to immediately eliminate him from the dance pool. Perforado, bitches!

I'm getting all worked up just thinking about it. *takes a deep breath*

Tango was supposed to be my therapy, not drive me to it. Hahahah WHOOPS.

In the meantime, enjoy Samantha Dispari and Andres Moreno as they prove that they are way better than you.

Still. No. Tango. OMG.

2007-06-07T08:04:00.000-04:00

Still no tango stop.

Going insane stop.

Am seriously on the verge of teaching a stranger just to have something going stop.

Tellingly, would rather teach the stranger than look for nuevo or alternative stop.

Situation critical stop.

Send Julio and Corina at once stop.

Observe the incredibly long, yet incredibly fast steps stop.

Situation much better now full stop.

Starvation.

2007-06-02T16:41:00.000-04:00

I thought this business trip would involve tango - I was so sure of it, had heard such good things about tango in Town, that I brought my flashiest shoes just so I could work off excess energy on the dance floor. I worried about whether to present myself as a leader or to just anonymously follow. I had decided to do the former, because at this point my pleasure in tango comes from switching roles depending on my mood, on the orchestra, on how my feet feel, on who's available. To lead in a city where I am a stranger was scary stuff; I'm a bastardy grump, sure, but no one wants to make an ass of themselves in public, and the decision was a big one. I worked up my courage, put on my signature scent.

Not meant to be. Tried two nights in a row, and all possible tango venues were closed or otherwise empty. I got restless, and last night I found myself going out fully prepared just in case I passed someone who could dance. My shoes banged around in my empty bag; Di Sarli played mournfully through my headhpones; I looked at every face on the street thinking, Do you? Can you?

I never used to look for anything in anyone. (It is difficult and humbling; I propose all tango dancers have something inscribed on their foreheads.)

I give it two days before I'm wearing my stilettos to the meetings here. Someone in Town is going to see my nice shoes, dammit, I don't care who it is.

This afternoon in my free time I flipped through Flickr for soothing pictures of tango dancers, and got this:

Did we still need to talk about wild animal attacks? About VISIBLE UNDERPANTS? I really tought that was over. If a cougar eats your skirt, no mantilla will do, okay? You have to buy a whole new skirt. That's the rules.

Luckily, a few pictures later, I found this:

This is what I am missing. Not the visible underpants so much.

Finally!

2007-05-29T16:41:00.000-04:00

There's been a tango festival in Denver going on for the past, like, month and a half, and NOBODY had pictures of Julio and Corina until just now! How can I stalk them when I have nothing to work with, I ask you?

I am still in Town That is Not My Usual Town. I haven't had a chance to dance yet, but my stilettos are on my desk so that I look at them and get wistfully antsy, so I think tomorrow I'm taking the plunge.

P.S. I have nothing as nice as Corina does to wear, either. Where does she find these great clothes? In every picture and every clip I have ever seen, she has on this fantastic, classy outfit. Does she shop at Amazing, Flattering, Flowing Clothes, Inc.?

Picture by Alex.Tango.Fuego

I could not love this moment more, when he's committed his full intent to the step, and the axis is shifting and she's moving with it. Plus, her forehead against his cheek is like a painting. Just, awesome, awesome stuff.

Okay, what?

2007-05-28T18:22:00.000-04:00

Am I wrong, or do these shoes have a belt?

I really don't think I'm wrong. That's a belt, you guys.

*screams*

Bulletin: Feet!

2007-05-27T05:34:00.000-04:00

Still traveling, sending you this report from the field:

Alicia Pons has some of the most amazing feet in the world. (This means the expression of the two feet she was born with, and not some disembodied collection of feet in her basement or something, that's not what I'm implying.)

For women wondering about alternatives to the Geraldine style, check this out; just as skillful, and probably a lot easier to use on the social dance floor since a lot of it is about musicality and pointing the toes and not so much about the kicking. I love the kicking, don't get me wrong, but this stuff is a lot less risky, and it's so elegant. I mean, just look.

Traveling.

2007-05-25T16:26:00.000-04:00

I'm leaving town for a few days and headed out to explore the wilderness. And by "the wilderness" I mean "another town."

My first week of tango, a girl came in from another city. (Not that I could tell, I was so new to tango I didn't know anyone, but I asked her where she usually danced and got a different city. Behold my deductive powers!)

She was like an exotic bird with her comme il fauts (the first pair I ever saw), her ankles glued together, her perfect balance. When she told me she'd been dancing two years, I was ravenously jealous that she'd gotten so good so fast. I was totally ready to throw down, except that she turned out to be extremely modest and nice, if a little afraid of a clumpy beginner in character shoes who wanted to talk about where her butter-yellow satin shoes came from.

She's not going to be in the city I'm going to, nor do I have plans to wow anyone with my flawless technique, as that would require flawless technique to begin with, and hahahahah!

I am, however, taking my flashiest shoes. If I'm going to suck, I'm going to suck proudly!

Stalking gets me through the week.

2007-05-22T22:58:00.000-04:00

No fooling.

It's everyone's favorite victims-o-stalkin', Julio y Corina!

My favorite thing here is the musicality - with the exception of a few awesome back sacadas that Julio can do because he's Julio and you're not, it's all just walking/crossing/ochoing/giroing, but the way they both clearly know the song, they way he comes back to refrains in the steps, and the way he bobs his left hand around like he's having SO MUCH FUN he just can't hold still, which would make me want to smack anyone else, but since he's my BFF I'll let it go.

Tango - A Photo Essay.

2007-05-20T18:48:00.000-04:00

Okay, a brief photo essay about tango.

This is social tango.

This is stage tango.

The End

The difference? Visible underpants. I don't want to see any underpants, people. I mean it. It's not that kind of dance floor.

All photos from Flickr: here, here, here, here, here, here.

My Two Cents on the Geraldine Debate.

2007-05-18T14:15:00.000-04:00

Dear everyone in the world,

You are not Geraldine. Quit the kicking.

Yours sincerely,
Planchadora

A History of Tango Music.

2007-05-17T14:54:00.000-04:00

...not really, though. Come on. Is that the kind of thing I do? That requires research. And I have done some research, but most of it was pizza research (conclusion: I like mushrooms).

Nevertheless, I am in possession of the following facts:

1) Tango songs are generally depressing.
2) There are usually instruments involved.

As evidence of these facts, I offer any tango lyrics ever, and the fact that a capella tango is kind of thin on the ground.

(No, seriously, tango lyrics. Canaro's "Poema", pretty much the sweetest, most profoundly romantic tango song ever recorded, that has as its pivotal lyric:

"And at my sad goodbye, you too will know the sensation of my pain!"

I mean, seriously.)

So, I'll work on a little history of tango music looking only for songs that are 1) depressing and 2) usually accompanied by music.

A History of Tango Music, Parts 1 and 2 of 34,985

1. Corpus Christi Carol, 15th cen.

Lyric sample:

"Lullay lullay, lullay lullay,
A falcon hathe borne my mate away...

By that bedside there kneeleth a maid,
And she weepeth both night and day."

What makes it tango: Somebody's dead and/or borne away by a humungous predatory bird! Sounds like tango to me.

Playable?: Dunno. Does anyone have a lute hanging around?

2. Alf Leyla Way Leyla, Arabic trad.

Lyric Sample:

"The night and its sky, its stars, its moon, and keeping awake all night.
You and me my sweetheart, my life."

What makes it tango: Are we sure this isn't a tango? Can someone check up on Echague on this?

Playable: No, seriously, are we sure this isn't a tango?

My Dancing.

2007-05-14T13:18:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure how much to talk about my dancing anymore - when it's good I don't notice because I'm listening to the music and not worrying about it, and when it's bad it's just a laundry list of things to practice in a not-funny way. Plus, I'll never set the Thames on fire, let's face it. Do I love tango? Oh, yes. Does it drive me nuts? Oh, yes. Am I ever going to be awesome? Oh, no. Does it stop me rattling on?

Oh, no.

I notice that I'm much less nervous about my leading than about my following, because following is asking yourself, "Can I?" and leading is saying, "I can." As a follower, if you accept a dance with someone you pretty much have to be prepared to follow whatever they lead- a huge unknown quantity. As a leader, you know already what you can do, and chances are you know what your follower can do, and it's much, much less stressful.

When I manage to get a really sharp follower it brings home the fact that my tango vocabulary is not huge - I'm a big fan of the walk, basically. At the same time, the volcada/colgada/gancho thing isn't my style as a follower and kind of as a human being, especially volcadas - give me my axis back, dude! I worked hard for that! I'm in stilettos! Give a girl a break!

Ahem! ANYWAY. I shouldn't be surprised that I don't like leading those, is my point.

history is littered with the evidence of men who loved volcadas too much

Also, tangent: what man in his right mind leads a gancho on a woman in stilettos? Just...is that wise? I'm asking. (Not talking about professionals here, they are very spicy and sexy etc., but for your average social leader and your average social follower, it's kind of flirting with disaster, I think.)

That being said, my following is actually much nicer than it was before I started leading, which is half the passage of time in general and half because I'm more relaxed about following. Also, another half is because I'm much pickier about my dances now, having an attitude of, "If you can lead this better than I could, I'm happy to dance with you. If not, please excuse me." So, that's three halves. Good thing I'm not an accountant. I'd be rich!...and in prison.

To sum up: following is fun. Leading is fun. My feet hurt. Those Italian engineers really never lived that one down, did they?

Planchadora Rips Into Commenters, Part 2 in a Series.

2007-05-09T16:14:00.000-04:00

So, a gentleman posted in a comment to a video of two women dancing, qualifying women leaders on criteria other than "ability" and "body odor". And he had the very bad judgement to do so on my blog.

I think you'll agree with me when I say: Mistake!

For those who don't want to go scrolling all over, the comment in its entirety is pasted below:

"She leads very well, she have great musicality (in milonga!), and she is hot... I dont know if i have to feel threatened by her (and her kind of girls) or just excited about such dancers.
But I know one thing: I REALLY want to dance with her sometime. Probably it will be a little difficult, because I find that women who often leads aren't "flexible" (I can think in a better word) in her follow. But it sure must be a pleasure =).
I use to think that women who leads don look good, but some girls I knew, prove me wrong.
Great video!"

Now, this gentleman commented to an earlier post and made it known he's Argentine, so I'm not going to ding him on grammar or anything, because let's face it, I can ding his content plenty.

1) The "hot girl" in question is Silvina Valz, frequent and favored performance partner of Flaco Dany. I've been lucky enough to take some of her classes.

Dude? You should feel threatened.

2) Who else loves the idea that because she's hot, she's not as threatening as some more mannish women leaders? That's pretty awesome. (See #1.)

3) Women who lead aren't as "flexible" if they lead regularly. Interesting thought. I'm not going to conjecture the word he meant, because I think he means "pliable" and that would make me spitting mad, so we'll give him a pass here.

I would like to point out, however, that 99% of professional female tango dancers know how to lead, for teaching purposes if for nothing else, and they're probably flexible enough to suit most people. If this isn't enough, I'd like to refer the statement about "frequent female leading = bad following" to Fabienne Bongard, Sharna Fabiano, Rebecca Shulman, Valeria Solomonoff, andBrigitta Winkler, members of the all-female tango troupe Tango Mujer, and not bad as followers go.

Dude? See #1.

Eeeee!

2007-05-09T13:06:00.000-04:00

Yeah, yeah, I'm all videos and no talk these days, I promise I have really haunting revelations soon that will change your life, mend the hole in the ozone, and get the red wine stains off your shirt. (You crazy klutz!)

But I had to post this, for obvious reasons. Pointed out to me on Fishnets and Fedoras by one of my favorite followers, who is now trying to get me to lead in heels. She's funny. And delusional.

Video of the Week: Holy Poo!

2007-05-07T20:56:00.000-04:00

You guys, this girl is SIX. YEARS OLD.

I would have shown you earlier today, but I was in the fetal position crying because I will never, ever, ever be as good as THIS SIX YEAR OLD.

I mean, she can also probably read and build sand castles, which means I can't beat her in ANYTHING. This six-year-old has left me in the dust. Thanks a lot, small person!

I should have made this a shout-out on Father's Day, but my father never taught me to tango, so I'm all mad and don't want to wait.

Stalktacular!

2007-05-04T11:46:00.000-04:00

You can pretty much name this clip "How to Take The Embrace, Walk to the Cross, and Look Good Doing It. And Some Other Stuff." Because that first thing is about twenty seconds, and the clip is longer than that. But really, this is Tango 101 type stuff. Plus, the longer it goes the better it gets; the elasticity from close embrace to slightly more open; the embellishments for her and him, the musicality...

...I seriously wish these guys would adopt me. Then together we could work on tango a lot. And fight crime! I'd end up being the snarky sidekick who gets captured a lot, I recognize that, but sometimes the snarky sidekick ends up getting her own comic book where she gets to explore her origin story at the hands of mad scientists and stuff! So that would be fun, too, if the tango part didn't work out.

The Embrace: A Field Guide.

2007-05-01T15:07:00.000-04:00

New to tango? It can seem like a wasteland, I understand. So many disciplines, so many things to remember, so many things that define you as a dancer, right down to the embrace. But never fear: whether you're a gentle beginner, or someone just looking for a style to call your own, there is a handy field guide to the embrace.

THE EMBRACE: A FIELD GUIDE

Milonguero
Close embrace, the woman's arm around the man's shoulders, torsos pressed together or tilted slightly to form a small "V". Man's left hand close to the body, tilted upwards; woman's hand resting on man's hand, elbow towards her body.

Salon
Close embrace, the woman's arm around the man's shoulders or with the left hand on the man's shoulder blade, torsos in a "V" shape. Man's left hand close to the body, sometimes slightly raised above the shoulder, palm tilted slightly towards the woman; woman's hand resting on the man's hand, the tilted angle giving her a little resistance.

Nuevo
Open embrace, the woman's left hand lightly gripping the man's right arm, the man with his hand on the woman's spine. Man's left hand a little away from the body, palm to the woman; the woman's hand mirrors this.

Villa Urquiza
Close embrace, with the woman's hand low on the man's back, fingers spread. The torsos form a slight "V".

Inestable (The Unstable)
Slightly open embrace, marked by a vise-like grip on the woman's back that robs her of her axis and makes her lean backwards, so the dancing pair forms a human letter K. The man's hand is usually pressing forward; the woman's arm is mostly achy.

Pluma (The Feather)
Close embrace style notable for its trust in the follower to do whatever is led without any guidance or support from the actual embrace. Look for a soft, yiedling hand on the man, and am ebrace loose enough to stick a fist through. Also traceable through a succession of nervous followers.

Lanzar (The Pusher)
Open embrace; the man's right hand i sholding on to the follower's armpit, and the woman's embracing hand grabs the deltoid. The man's left hand is held out from the body parallel to the floor, palm facing her, making it eaiser to fling her. The woman's right hand is her only lifeline; followers of this style tend to have extremely toned forearms.

Lobo (The Wolf)
Extremely close embrace; the man's embrace is firm and his head as close to the bosom of his partner as possible, the woman's arm wraps around the man's neck tightly; for a particularly long-armed follower, wrap two or three times around. The held hands on the open side of the embrace are firmly jammed into the man's collarbone.

Exquisito (Exquisite)
Marked by a firm, yet elastic embrace, hands helf comfortably and with dynamism, and proper axis. This embrace is almost extinct, and can usually only be seen in capitivity. For in situ observation of this rare creature, a trip to Buenos Aires is recommended.

Stalktastic!

2007-04-30T18:10:00.000-04:00

Okay, this is cheating and I'm planning a big post later, I swear, but who can resist a little stalking?

Oh Julio and Corina, if you knew of my existence, which you don't, would you love me as much as I love you guys? Think it over and get back to me.

Videos for every week until the end of time.

2007-04-24T22:33:00.000-04:00

Some totally awesome person has uploaded a series of clips from tango classes given by Carlos Gavito. They should be required viewing for everyone in the world, including kittens.

Possible Reasons Why I Am Not Tangoing Lately.

2007-04-24T20:25:00.000-04:00

* I have decided to take up the polka. Beginner classes every Wednesday at the Senior Center! oh HAAAAY!

* The news that Irishman Jonathan Rhys Meyers has gone into rehab (for drinking, shockingly) has left me too upset to concentrate on anything.

* My day job eats up a lot of my time and energy.

* I've been abducted by walruses. (Walrii? But don't think my ignorance of the plural means this isn't a viable option. You never know.)

* My residence was a big fat mess and I had to deal with it.

* Someone else's residence was a big fat mess and I had to deal with. (What? I'm very helpful!)

* I haven't had much to write about, tango-wise.

Take your pick. They're all about equally true, except the walrus one, which is triple-true.

Video of the Week - Canyengue

2007-04-20T12:58:00.000-04:00

Okay, so, sometimes a milonga comes on and people are like, "...the hell is this?", which means it's a canyengue.

Canyengue is the predecessor of milonga, which is the predecessor of tango, which is the predecessor of that scene in Moulin Rouge which was okay at the time but has become the background music for a thousand Smallville fanvids that clog my YouTube searches, and so now I think it's evil.

(Also, if you ever want a laugh, search for "tango roxanne music", and click on one of those random music videos. Look for: hilariously unlikely subject matter - anime, star wars, ice skating (!) - and even better if you get one with terrible spelling. "Kate luvs Sawyer + Jack who will she choose?? song is tango de roxanne from moulin rouge - TRUTH AND LOVE 4EVER!")

Ahem. Sorry about that. Back to my point - CANYENGUE!

Most people dance milonga to canyengue. That's okay. No negative points for doing that. However, if the lady turns her head so it's looking the same direction as the man's head, they drop their joined hands, and they catch the rhythm correctly, it's one million squillion positive Planchadora points.

Here's a demonstration of all the little beats and unique steps that make up a good canyengue. The camera also lingers on their upper bodies, and for two reasons:

1) Their upper bodies maintain the same structure and posture required of tango, milonga, and all the other dances. No shimmying!

2) He has a really kicky little chapeau going on.

So, the next time a canyengue comes on, now you know. Drop your hands, turn your heads, and ric-tic-tic.

Private Dancer.

2007-04-18T10:04:00.000-04:00

A dancer for MONNEH, I'll DO WHAT YOOU WAWNT ME TOO DOOOOOO....

/ Tina Turner.

Earlier this week I had a private lesson (following), and it was one of those lessons you kick yourself for ever postponing, because if I had had that lesson six months ago I'd be a much better dancer now. It was all axis and balance work, Corina-style, except I look a lot less like Corina than a picture of Corina that's been all crumpled up so the spine is all wonky and twisted and the posture is bad. Not any more, though! Or at least, I have no more excuses, since, you know, I was told how to do it correctly. It's broken down the way I think about walking on a practically molecular level, to the point that walking around my office today is a Karate-Kid-level effort. Come on, Planchadora-san!

With any luck, eventually I will subsume all the blahblah and just walk nicely.

Also, I was so petrified of being socially unacceptable that I went out and bought perfume so I wouldn't smell bad. It went on light, fresh, yet soft and edible. Then it dried, and I smelled like tropical air freshener. Dear Bath and Body Works, reconsider your summer line, maybe. Just saying.

Axis.

2007-04-17T17:47:00.000-04:00

There's an actual post on the way soon (probably), but in the meantime, AXIS:

Also, the smile on his face is like a kid riding a bike with new baseball cards in the spokes.

(photo from the Berlin Tango Festival; I'm totally in love with their photos of these two.)

You guys, I have a metaphor!

2007-04-12T14:14:00.000-04:00

And I think this one actually goes someplace instead of descending into mumbling and pictures of Julio and Corina!

I hear a lot of people saying that leading tango is like driving a car. Understandable, since the directional/speed dynamic is there, but sort of unfair to the follower, who puts in eighteen hours of ochos a week only to be called either the passenger or the actual car. (Nice chassis! Oh...hay?) So I've been trying to think of something that translates my feelings about leading into a more cooperative metaphor than 'a car'.

And at dinner last week, I found one! Because I like dinner. And by "one" I mean I found a metaphor, not a car. If I found a car I would sell it and buy shoes.

So, I'm of the mind that the leader is a chef in a restaurant for one, whose personal menu is available to the public. The leader asks the follower to dinner, and it's up to the follower/diner to agree to eat a chef's-choice meal off the menu. Once she agrees, she's pretty much bound to eat everything the chef serves, since she could see the menu right up front. However, if the chef doesn't cook carefully and ends up serving a strawberry dish that the diner's allergic to, or trying to show up and flambe her entree and her hair lights fire, you get a big-ass disaster.

Some diners are really picky eaters and choose chefs very carefully; they tend to be pleased with the meals to which they agree. Some diners agree out of politeness and end up eating a nasty, sandy meal that gives them food poisoning. This is sad, but if the menu reads "nasty, sandy roast beef", well, they sort of knew it.

And of course, choosing the chef is a matter of personal taste based on the menu. Some diners insist on the flambe dinner because they like their dining experiences dramatic; some diners are perfectly happy to sit down to macaroni and cheese. Everyone is in search of the perfect chef who will cook them exactly the meal they want based on the offerings on the menu; when a chef seems to create dishes specifically for the diner who's eating at the time, it's the ultimate compliment.

The chef has to adapt to each diner as she comes; some are new to gourmet cooking and might not be able to appreciate some of the funkier items the chef knows he can cook; some have sophisticated palettes that have been trained for years, and if the chef drops cilantro into anything she'll beat him with a stick until he's dead. However, since the chef ASKS the diner to come and eat, he has to understand demands and limitations, and good cooking comes when the chef works within them.

The diner should try to eat each dish correctly and with good form, using all proper utensils, and avoiding faux pas: making sure not to put cheese on seafood dishes, for example. The diner should wait for the next course without trying to second-guess the chef.

The diner has a right to leave at any time, for any reason. She's a guest, not a prisoner. A professional, mature chef will not throw a hissy if this happens, and instead perhaps re-examine his menu.

Unacceptable: molesting the diner, cooking dishes at lightning speed and getting angry if the diner can't eat it all instantaneously in time for the next dish, cooking the same dish six times and insisting they're all different dishes.

You get the idea. I feel like this is a much nicer metaphor than the car one, because the act of cooking itself involves the innate desire to please, rather than to control, and makes the leader's responsibility one of caring for the follower, of providing for her.

Or, I'm hungry.

Video of the Week: Tete y Silvia

2007-04-11T13:54:00.000-04:00

This video is nothing fancy.

The thing is, that's not an insult. It's beautiful BECAUSE it's nothing fancy. It's just two people and the music - no flying boleos or crazy flinging or over-the-head hand-tosses, just old-school tango milonguero.

This should be played in all beginner/intermediate tango classes when people start asking to learn figures, you know?

Because I'm not THAT mean.

2007-04-10T17:06:00.000-04:00

To the anonymous tipster who left me some links to hilarious tango dresses:

Thank you for the laugh. And the cringe. I'm not really sure what was going on with some of those dresses, but I'm really flattered that you took the time to leave the comment that would be sure to scar my eyeballs forever.

I didn't publicly post it, because it links directly to the frightening frocks in question, and as much as I love making fun of them, I do try not to link directly to them, because I'm sure the person who made them thinks they're beautiful, and I try not to be a total bastard sometimes, so I'm letting them stay anonymous.

However, I might stick one in here and there as I wade through the worst the internet has to offer, so definitely keep an eye open for one of your picks! I'd give you a finder's fee, but come on, I dance tango. I'm poor.

And her bastardy heart shrank three sizes that day!

2007-04-09T15:00:00.000-04:00

Welcome to another edition of Bastardy Grump (c)!

1. Things visiting Argentine bigshots are talking about at the milonga when you dance past:
1) Coffee, wanting more
2) Dessert, wishing they had had less
3) Water, procurement of
4) Orchestra, debate over merits of
5) Dancing, debates over merits of
6) Bunions, possible presence of
7) Seafood, possible danger of
8) Sex
9) Sleeping, dire need of
10) Nice shoes, desire for
11) Orchestra vs. Dancing 2: Tango Boogaloo
12) Orchestra, violent fight over

Things they are most probably not talking about:
1) Dancing, your

What they think of you when you approach them, interrupt their conversation, and ask what they were talking about regarding your dancing as you prepare carefully for a compliment:
1) Jerk, total

This is why Argentines stay in Buenos Aires and don't teach in America. Stop it!

You lucked out...THIS TIME.

2007-04-06T16:39:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-04-04T15:54:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-04-03T12:11:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-03-29T17:10:00.000-04:00

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."

2007-03-27T10:59:00.000-04:00

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,

2007-03-26T17:37:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-03-23T11:39:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-03-22T09:30:00.000-04:00

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

2007-03-19T11:28:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-03-16T11:23:00.000-04:00

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

2007-03-15T16:41:00.000-04:00

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

2007-03-13T15:52:00.000-04:00

*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?

2007-03-09T11:59:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-03-07T16:44:00.000-05:00

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)

2007-03-06T08:17:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-03-05T13:19:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-02-28T16:33:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-27T16:45:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-02-27T11:47:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-02-23T17:00:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-02-22T14:36:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-02-21T10:36:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-02-15T21:36:00.000-05:00

"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?!

2007-02-15T20:50:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-14T15:39:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-02-13T14:33:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-02-13T09:35:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-02-09T17:43:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-02-07T01:06:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-05T16:20:00.000-05:00

(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

2007-02-04T22:12:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-02-01T11:27:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-01-29T13:52:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-01-25T14:36:00.000-05:00

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)