Mermaid Parade 2008

Every year, my mermaid parade costume is inspired by something that I enjoyed or did or saw that year.

This year: TEXAS.

Complete with chaps (everyone keeps saying assless chaps, which is redundant, but fun to say nonetheless) sequins and an Elvis-flair, I was definitely the shiniest mermaid on Coney Island that day.

Strangely enough, my belt buckle, the only part of the costume I did NOT make, was almost as popular as the rest of the outift.

Mermaid parade benefit

(photo by Carl Saytor)
I was asked by my friend Heather to be one of the dancers at the Coney Island Mermaid Benefit. We were supposed to participate in a jam circle, a couple of dancers were going to perform (not me) and then we were supposed to cozy up next to the VIPs who paid about $250 a ticket.

It was the best party I've been to in a long time. Circus freaks, big-name burlesque artists, fellow freak lovers like myself. They were serving up coney island fare - hot dogs, hamburgers, and popcorn - making me glad that I had dinner beforehand.

We danced and shmoozed from about 7 to midnight. Everyone was SO nice. I was wearing a vintage-style top, a navy twirly skirt that I made that day (LOVE that serger), black and white shoes and one of grandma's vintage hats. A number of near-naked burlesque performers came up to me to tell me how great I looked, which was HILARIOUS because they were glamorously bedecked in pasties, glitter, sequins, feathers.

We danced all night. I had a typically naughty dance with one of my favorite dancers, Brendan. Brendan's so great because he has a great sense of leverage, and he'll get me in these crazy positions where I'll wind up with his knee between my legs, and then I miraculously pop up about 6 feet in the air. Or, I'll be bent over and he'll be smacking my toosh.

So, we're having one of these ridiculously campy and naughty dances, laughing so hard, and I realize we're being watched very closely by a couple of people on the side of us. At the end of the dance, I dusted myself off, looked at Brendan and said "Thanks! It was nice to meet you!"

I love everything mermaid.

Shoe Whore

I am a shoe whore.

The black and whites are regular shoes I can wear dancing. The others are dance shoes I can wear to work.

Black and whites are an obsession of mine. The red heels are a delicious shade of wine which cannot be discerned from my crappy photography skills.

The vampy patent-leather job reminds me of something from a 1990's Madonna video. Mostly I got them because they reminded me of these shoes from Lucila Iotti, some designer in BA, whose shoes were gorgeous but were only in these impractical (for me) combinations of colors and at $150 a pop, I couldn't justify it.

I know officially own 4 pairs of tango shoes, and I'm not much of a tango dancer. Perhaps if I buy some more, I will be better.

I *heart* shoes.

I just can’t learn to dance this way

I had this dream that I was going to spend my month dancing and eating my way through Brazil and Argentina. I managed to do the eating part quite well. A little over a month, and I did not cook one meal myself.

The dancing part was more difficult.

I stopped taking dance classes in Brazil when I realized that the quality and authenticity of instruction in New York is at least equal, probably better, and more professional. They start on time, there are more classes of more variety offered more times during the day. The Salvador dance schools felt like chop-shop operations, only offering classes 2-3 hours per day, all at the same time at every school, and the rates varied so much that you didn’t know what to expect. One woman charged me 25 Reals, about USD$13, the same price it would be in the US. And I’d had better classes in the US. I was satisfied with what I did, but I didn’t feel I was really getting something special learning there versus learning in NYC.

On the contrarty, there are SO MANY dance classes in Buenos Aires, that it’s hard to focus. They’re practically all day and night, all over the city. It took me a week to get up the motivation (and to not feel badly dragging my friend to watch me suck at tango for an hour) to take a class. I finally settled upon Tango brujo, a store and dance studio around the corner from the hostel.

The class was a mixed basic-intermediate level. People were at all different levels, none too great but all seemingly more experienced than me. They taught one move, and we practiced the move over and over again. I could not get it. I’m not so sure too many others did either, but I defintely couldn’t do it. My body weight and position was all wrong, and they kept trying to fix it, and I just couldn’t do it. All these instructiors focus so heavily on technique, which is wonderful, but there’s so much going on at the same time just to take this one small step, it’s very hard to perfect.

After toying with this one move for about 15 minutes, we had to put it into practice. Unfortunately, I’ve never danced before outside the 3 private lessons I’ve had, so I don’t know how to do any of the other stuff, either. My partners are leading things I just don’t know how to do. And, nice as they were, they’re saying, “no, we’re not doing that move, we’re just dancing.” But I don’t know how to dance in the first place.

I need a progressive class, at least until I get a little more comfortable with the basics. I need a class where everyone is slightly better than me, so that I can understand what I need to do and I don’t have to figure out if what I’m doing isn’t working because of me of because of my partner. I have to dance with a limited number of moves that I am trying to perfect. Learning samba, I can jump into a class. I’ll pick some of it up, and some of it I won’t. But if I mess up, I only have to deal with me, not with someone else.

I just couldn’t function in a drop-in class. I’m not disappointed. It gave me more time to dedicate to the other side of the tango passion… the SHOES. So I left BA with not so much a better understanding of the dance, but I now have a 4-pair mini-collection of tango shoes to inspire me.

I guess I gotta REALLY learn to tango.

I look like a tango superhero in these.

That I bought.

Today.

Ack.

(Bought at Darcos Magic shoes, about $75)

This may be the proudest day of my life

I never really studied in high school. That is, until the AP BC Calc exam senior year. We got to the part about shells and discs, if anyone remembers what thats about, and I found it very difficult. Every problem, I would say "I can't find the length and the width." The teacher, Mr. Skouras, would calmly tell me how each time, but I just didn't get it. Finally, one of the other kids in my class said "oh my god, STILL? What's wrong with you?"

It was that moment I vowed I was going to kick his and every other kid's ass in that class on that exam.

I studied day and night. I would be in math class, working on whatever Mr. Skouras assigned, and at the same time, would be working from my Kaplan review book. Mr. Skouras walked over to my desk one day, to peer over at the mountain of papers I was furiously working on (probably thinking I was writing more notes to pass to my friends), to find that it was math. All math. He gave a somewhat surprised and pleased look and walked away.

I got a 5, the best possible score. It may have been the proudest day in my life.

Until today.

I went to Escola de danca, the most professional operation in Pelo, to take an afro-brasilian dance class. I took Ulrika, the Swedish girl I've been hanging with, and this Danish girl tagged along. The class next door was just finishing, and the music and dancing was so fast, we were totally intimidated. We told ourselves that maybe it was the progressive class for real dancers.

The class we took was what I would consider very basic level, but it was very physically demanding. We were sweating like crazy after just 10 minutes. The dance steps he chose were simple to follow, but the strength training portion was really painful. There were brazilians and foreigners in the class.

Many African-based dance styles have a posture that is completely opposite to much traditional dance. In ballet, for example, the hips are tucked under and the stomach is pulled in. In African dance, the butt is thrust out, the knees are slightly bent, and the shoulders are back.

I'm in the back of the class, the appropriate place to be in a dance class that's new to you, or if it's a level that's too difficult. Otherwise, the instructor will often MOVE YOU to the back, and that's very embarrassing. So I'm the last one to move across the floor, and the teacher looks at me with a sideways glance as I move to the back of the room again.

He calls me forward.

He tells me to do it again.

He says, in portuguese, "THIS! THIS is what your bunda (ass) is supposed to look like when you do it! Do it again!"

I'm an American in Brasil, and he uses MY ASS as as an exemplar.

This definitely beats the 5 on the AP calc exam.

I get back to the hostel, read my email. I got an email from the editor of the National Council of Teachers of Mathematics magazine that I subscribe to. My alternate solution to a problem I had submitted to the editor a while back is going to be published in the magazine.

Math and booty, coming full circle.

The best night dancing of my life

I went to the Sunday practice session of Olodum, the favorite Bloco Afro (carnival dance group) of Salvador. They gained international notoriety playing with Paul Simon some years back. The practice is FOUR HOURS OF NONSTOP DRUMMING, although some of the drummers substitute out throughout the practice. It costs $10.

Not only is the drumming amazing, deafening and completely overwhelming, there are the same group of dancers that show up at all these dance events in Pelo, leading people in the carnival dances. It's the same afro-brasilian type dancing that I do in New York, so I was very excited.

I was dancing next to these guys, and (although I took it with the same grain of salt I have learned to accept all Brazilian compliments with) one of them told me I danced like a Brazilian. And he didn't even try to get into my pants, so it may have been close to the truth!! One of them will lead a step, and the rest of us follow, and so on, for hours. I stood right next to them and danced for HOURS. I was completely drenched with sweat, entranced.

It was the best night of dancing in my life.

"My heart is yours": dancing disappointent in Pelo

Sometimes, when traveling, I have these grandiose plans of doing everything there is on offer... and then I kick myself when I look back and have only done a fraction.

I had planned to dancedancedance. I had this idea that I was going to take dance classes all day, and go out dancing at night. I was going to finally learn that samba thing that americans can't seem to pick up.

It's been just over a week since I arrived, and I have hardly done any of it.

With Sinead's help, I found two dance schools. One is Escola da Danca, located off the Rua de Oracao near the Terreiro de Jesus. This is the dance school with the most classes. There are two types of classes: ones you have to sign up for the month (or longer, I'm not sure) and "cursos livres" which you can join on any particular day. Unfortunately, there are at most two classes per day. One is at 6:30 and the other is at 7:30. They have classes in Blocos afros, afro-brasileiro, samba, and a couple of others I wasn't terribly interested in. It's expensive (by Brasilian standards) at 20 Reals per hour of class. Classes are only Monday - Thursday.

Sinead told me there was a samba class there at 4 yesterday, but it wasn't listed on the posted schedule. So between my lack of great portuguese and the guard's not giving two shits about me or making the studio money, I thought it didn't exist and went home. Sinead said it was brand new.

Another school is the Diaspora Center, located around the corner. The classes are an hour and a half, for 15 reals, although by the time the teacher started, it was really an hour an 10 minutes. Better for me, really, cause I can never commit to 1 1/2 hours of class (he said he was waiting for others to show up... only two of us had showed up that day.) I took a class in Orixa dance. In a candomble ceremony, each orixa has a certain dance that is reflects its attributes. The dances are not terribly energetic, and this class hadn't kicked my ass in quite the manner I was hoping. Not that I was any good at what I was doing, it just wasn't very high-energy. They have one, maybe two classes a night, at the same time as the other school! Also only monday - thursday.

The third is the Obispo center for dance, located at Rua do obispo, just off Praca da se. It has dance classes at night, although I was more interested in the african dance class they have on Monday and Wednesday at 11 am! I'll try to get my butt over there on Monday.

This is also the place when I went dancing last week and last night. Every saturday, they have some live band and dancing in their studio space. Last night was samba. My samba is improving, although it looks nothing like the dancing of the girls here, who seem to float on the floor while moving their tiny, compact asses in every possible direction. It really is a sight.

Pelorinho, often called Pelo, is not Salvador. Salvador is a big city, almost none of which I have truly experienced. I just don't want to leave Pelo. There are clubs on the beach, but that is quite a distance away, and getting there is not too much of a problem, but I'm worried about returning late at night. Also, there is free amazing music here in Pelo all night, every night, right on my backyard. I am happy here. People take day or weekend trips to islands where the beaches are more tranquil, more nature-filled. I have no interest in traveling to a remote place to enjoy nature. Pelo's a small town, but it's vibrant, and I'm a city girl at heart. "Getting away from it all" to me, is going to a smaller city.

I recognize so many of the men here already. When you go to these dance events, there's the same group of amazing male (and female, but mostly male) dancers showing off amazing dance moves in groups, or pairs. Imagine the recurring dancers from "Soul Train," my dad's favorite show in the 80's. At some point, each of them goes off to dance with a different tourist. The guy who came to dance with me was the best dancer I had ever seen. I must have danced 5 different stlyes of dance with him by the time all was said and done. A salsa song came on and he said "I really don't know how to dance salsa" and his salsa was better than mine could ever be. I really wanted to see what he could do, but he kept letting me dance in a certain way, and he would imitate it, probably to be flattering. I'm a good dancer, but he was AMAZING.

We must have gotten through about 5 songs before he said to me, in portuguese "My heart is yours."

Oh, now, why'd you have to go ruin it??

Another dance later, and I snuck out of the club to go home. Then the guy from last week sees me and says "I'm arriving, and you're going home??" Argh.

I have about 5 1/2 more days here before I'm off to Buenos Aires, for tango and meat, and I hope it's enough to feel like I've gotten the full Bahis experience.

Although the full Pelo experience seems to involve waking up next to a guy in a favela, which another girl here did the other night. Ack.

Samba and Forro

I spent a long day of finding a "nice beach" outside of town called Itapua, only to turn right back around and come back. By the time I got there (about an hour's bus ride,) the weather had gone south. I had an abara (the same as an acaraje, only the bean mash is boiled in a banana leaf) and took the bus right back.

Jenny managed to drag me off my ass, having been tired from nothing, to take a "free samba dance class" at the School of Angola Capoeira. It was a very basic class, but it was exactly what I needed to finally learn that crazy move that defines samba and differentiates it from the other african style dances I have learned. The one where their little asses are moving in a thousand different directions, but you're not really sure how because their upper body is completely still and relaxed. At the end of the lesson (which turned out not to be free at all, but a very cheap $5.50, something I expected but seemed to piss off the english girls on a tight budget) I think I had a pretty good grasp of it. Very exciting, considering that I had planned to spend my days taking dance classes, and I hadn't yet done it in the 6 days since my arrival. There's just so much to see and so much going on...

I met Sinead, an Irish girl who just came from Buenos Aires (which just saw its first snowfall since 1918. Fuck!), who is essentially doing the same trip I am, in reverse. She spent 2 weeks in BA learning tango, and is spending the next 3 in Salvador to learn tango! She is also traveling sozinha (the delightful portuguese terms for being alone, but not ALONE) so we made plans to start going to classes together! She's done some research and has also been a bit put off that the classes are not so organized or easy to find.

Tuesday night is THE night to go out in Salvador. Every Tuesday there is some kind of free music performance at a large set of stairs in the center of town (which we were just a bit late for), followed by a percussion disply. Olodum, very famous percussion group (they re eived international notoriety after performing with Paul Simon on some tour) owns this town. They played in the street while a group of locals and tourists followed three amazing dancers in some routine that they put together. It was awesome.

After that, off to the main square to hear some live forro. Forro is a partner dance that is very similar to cumbia, which is close to west-coast swing... lots of one and two-handed turns. Then they mix in a little lambada, where the legs were the bodies are very close, and the legs sandwich each other, and there is a small grinding motion. Lastly, there is an "aerial" move which I can't really describe with words.

We met up at the square, where this one brazilian guy was sitting with a group of the english girls and some American guy with a real gift for accents. The guy kept trying to teach the english girls Forro, whoch they did not like so much, so they shoved him in my direction, telling him I was an excellent dancer. (They whispered "sorry!" and giggled..)

This guy was an excellent dancer. I picked it up right away, including the little aerial bit. I danced a couple of songs before the intense headache I woke up to returned.

The best part about dancing in Brazil is it seems to be the only thing that, ironically, stops the Brazilian men from trying to get in your pants.

This guy could not have been older than 17, yet had this way of asking everyone how old they were before inventing an age he wanted to be.

Walking in town at night bring on a lot of touching. Not even flirting, which would be fine. It goes from touching to making out. If you're lucky, there may be a few words of conversation or a dance.

I am now pretending I speak and understand no portuguese.

One guy came up to me, told me I was beautiful, and I looked at him like I didn't understand him, and Jenny took over. She said I had a boyfriend, that she had a boyfriend, and the third girl we were with had one as well. He literally said "Do you know anyone who doesn't have one??"

Then Alex approached me, and he didn't speak any english, but he spoke very good spanish. He said he liked me because I danced with such "happiness and spirit." There was no touching, so I talked a bit longer. He works on a boat, and told me he'd take me on a boat ride to Morro de Sao Paulo, a popular island that's a ways away from Salvador. Free, he said.

Uh-huh.

We spoke for a couple of minutes, and he said he'd really like to take me out. I said I had a boyfriend. He said he had a girlfriend. Then he asked me for a kiss. Just one. Hmmph.

The crazy thing about it is they really don't need to act this way. They are all gorgeous, with terrific bodies. Perhaps if the foreigners would stop screwing them...

There was some really good salsa playing at a local club, but I decided I had enough touching for one evening. Jenny and Naomi got a meat on a stick, grilled up by some woman on the street and we made our way back.

Must be the Moon Video

Woo-Hoo!!

I was in a Chkchkchk video, and I'm not even on the cutting room floor!!!

The Last Mermaid Parade?

The mermaid parade is definitely my favorite NYC event. It's full of creative people from all walks of life, all ages, all body types... rumor has it that this may be the last one because Coney Island has been sold off to some developers. Heartbreaking if true.

My costume has been sitting in my closet for a year waiting to be worn. I was "Samba of the Sea." It was a gorgeous day.

My Mermaid Photos

I am a really crappy photographer, but my friends' pics are SO much better. (The one of me at the left is Lynn's...)

Lynn's photos

Eli's Photos

After the parade, when I was all hot and dehydrated, I realizes that I lost my car keys. Needless to say, I was really pissed and stressed about it. I get back to the car to find that some guy from an auto repair down the block saw my keys, took them for me, and left a note. He had this real brooklyn accent and said "You're so lucky... someone would have stolen that car so fast!!" I paid him off with a couple of chicken tacos from the corner deli and a 24 oz Budweiser.

I love New York.

Places and things I recommend

Private Tango Lessons
Ramiro Rosenvasser and Luciana Brillantino (they speak English!)
ramirorosenvasser@gmail.com
lulabrillantino@hotmail.com

Ramiro and Luciana were so nice. They came to my hostel to teach, so that I didn't have to try to find them. They tailored the lesson to my ability, not the other way around. Bonus: both of them very pleasing to the eye.

Restaurants

• Janio Malbria 1805, corner of Costa Rica, Palermo Viejo. Has an outdoor patio, one of the few without umbrellas, important for us stupid americans who want to eat and bask in the hot afternoon sun at the same time. Inside is big, pretty, and spins nice music. Inexpensive midweek "menu del dia," three courses for about 30 pesos.
• Gran Bar Danzon Libertad 1161, Centro. Delicious. Pretty. Make a reservation. Same owner as Bar Uriate, and Sucre, which was highly recommended to me by the porteno in the seat next to me on the ride down.
• El Palacio de la Papa Frita three locations. Basic food at a good price. Marcelo's favorite. The potatoes are puffy. Craziness.
• Desnivel Defensa 855, San Telmo. Bad service. Casual atmosphere. Great meat at a ridiculously low price.

Online Restaurant Guide to Buenos Aires: Oleoguide

Tango Shoes (more I found at this address)
The street called Suipacha has a block it calls the "Tango Street". The strange thing about buying tango shoes is that many of them are either made to order, so when you walk in, first they ask you your size and bring you what they've got. They might not have it, and they might not be able to get it. A couple of places quoted me US$50 to ship to the US, but that's 1/2 the cost of the shoe. If you have limited time in BA, shop early.

• Centro Artesanal del Tango, - Suipacha 256 -- 4326-5377
• Darcos, Suipacha
• Flabella, Suipacha 263
• Scarpe Mahara, Suipacha 332. Small selection, not so unique or elegant, but maybe better for beginner or older dancer.
• Comme il Faut, Arenales 1239 #3M. Hands down, the best looking and most unique shoes. Called the "Manolo Blahniks" of tango shoes. Start here, buy something. Everything else is inferior.
• Bailarin Porteno - Suipacha 251
• Tango Brujo, Esmeralda 754. Pretty store. Carries copies of the tango city guide.
• Victorio, Montevideo 224

Shoe Stores

• Angls, Arenales 1602 (Centro)
• Paruolo, Honduras 4785 (Palermo)
• Pepe Cantero, Costa Rica 4522 (Palermo)
• Viviana Valdez, Talcahuano 1184. Nicest people. Got a cute little pair of handmade, tan leather kitten heels with brown scalloped trim here.
• Josefina Ferroni, Armenia 1471
• Lola Narsh, Arenales 1130

Clothing Stores

• Fiorini Wichimachki, Gurruchaga 1532 (Palermo). Cutest little dresses, lots of reverse stitching.
• Complot (various stores) Punky, but in a good way. Very cheap.
  
• Del Plata Leather, Suipacha 909 (centro). Nice people, not pushy at all. Made my gorgeous leather pants in a day. Lots of unexpected and pretty colors. cuerosdelplata@yahoo.com.ar
• Maria Aversa, El Salvador 4580 (Palermo)
• Del Plata Cueros, Suipacha 909, Microcentro. Leather!!
  

Yarn
There are about three blocks filled with yarn stores. Mostly wools and acrylics. Yarns are priced to sell by the kilo, mostly, so start thinking metric, if you don't already. I wish I remember the cross street to start at. Anyway, there's a "Scalabrini Ortiz" subte stop, and it's not too far of a walk.

• Milana, Scalabrini Ortiz 1062 (My favorite.)
• Moussa, Scalabrini Ortiz 973
• Arte Natural, Scalabrini Ortiz 1019. Not a yarn store, actually. They make and sell buttons, closures, toggles, etc. cut from wood.

Dancing in a Video

My dance instructor, Kimani, who teaches my African dance class (more African/hip-hop/modern fusion) asks me last week, "So, would you like to dance in a video??"

Turns out that Kimani had been asked to choreograph a "tribal african" dance scene in a video for a group called !!! (like Prince, it really has no pronunciation, so they're usually called "chk chk chk" or "pow pow pow." I'd never heard of them.

Of course, my first question, "Will I be naked?"

The only thing holding me back was that my memory is THE SUCK, and even though I can manage to dance in class, I can't remember more than 30 seconds of choreography at a time. And we were to learn the mini-routines (5 of them) at the shoot. I agreed.

I mentioned this, both proud and embarrassed at the same time, to some friends of mine, and it seems they had heard of and liked the band. I get a call Friday night from the producer, telling me to meet him at the Virgin Records at Union Square so a van can take the "talent" to Orangeburg for the day. And he told me that there would be a "wardrobe and makeup person" to take care of everything else.

Holy shit. What did I get myself into?

The van is full of Williamsburg hipsters (OK, no joke. There was an ad on Craigslist.org for hipsters/models/actresses to be in the video), Kimani, me, and Shola, another friend from my dance class.

We get to the house, and everyone's eating breakfast. They're setting up the shoot. The director comes to us and says "OK, for the first scene, we need a model to snog with the lead singer." One girl's hand goes straight into the air, and she says "I'll do it! What do I have to do?" He says "Kiss his neck?" and the girl says "Um, OK. But will everyone get to see my face??"

Ah, aspiring actresses.

We spend the whole day snacking, dancing on and off. I can't seem to remember the choreography. Which is making me nervous. I keep practicing. Luckily, Kimani's other dancer friend Krishna is like me in that she can't seem to remember choreography, either. Shola had learned it all last week. Cheater.

We wait and wait and wait. All the models have been dressed and made up since noon. We're still waiting. We have no idea when we're getting filmed. The wardrobe person is the most dry, sarcastic (and NOT in a good way) brat. She's saying things to us like this....

"YEAH... I don't know..... WHEEEERE you're supposed to be, but, like, you .....CAN'T stay here. I really need.... this space. Um, yeah."

At dinnertime, she had a different outfit on. W e asked her if she was going to be in the shoot. She said "Uh... NO.... I'm the WARDROBE PERSON." Kimani says, in her most patient voice, "I know. But you changed your outfit." She said "I wanted to feel pretty for dinner." She changed her own outfit 3 times.

Meanwhile, we learn that they're shooting our scene at 1/2 speed, (1/2 speed so much better for me) but they can't seem to get us the music at 1/2 speed. Nice.

They're shooting and shooting. It's getting later and later. They're out of coffee. They send us to wardrobe.

"Wardrobe" is a small bedroom with clothes and fabrics piled up on a bed. And in a corner. And on a rack. She says, "OK. Is there anyone here who is uncomfortable exposing a little skin?" I raise my hand, and explain that I've got a day job where I really shouldn't be half naked, even if I AM wearing a mask.

Kimani and Krishna are now wearing bras made out of pelt. And the girl says "here, put this on."

It was a hot-pink, off-the-shoulder leotard. And a matrix-y, boxy, brown, almost corrugated, sweater. And continues to dress my fur-clad friends. Which took at least an hour, for some reason.

Not a good look for me, I think.

I wrap an earth-toned, psychadelic printed, silk scarf around my 80's-Olivia-Newton-John-looking-ass. And manage to convince the wardrobe person it was her idea.

Shooting was supposed to be over at 11 pm. At 10:45, we get called down to do our thing. The room is small and hot (which was good because it was a cold-ass house) and full of everyone on the set. We're to dance in a small space while the others groove. Like some kind of tribal orgy scene. We ask if we can mark it, to the time. Denied. I'm wearing a mask which totally obscures my peripheral vision. Except it also hides my eyes, so I can sneak a peek at the others if I am nervous.

We are rushed, shoot only two of the pieces. I'm sure I fucked up. I'm sure I'm not the only one. There is no re-take. In fact, after the two out of five (maybe 40 seconds of dancing), they spontaneously (or maybe just because we were not let in on the plan) tell everyone to lie and writhe on the floor, feeling the lead singer up.

And that was that.

Hours of nerves, practicing, freezing our asses off. For 40 seconds, of which I'll be lucky if I'm on camera for 1. And evidently, it doesn't even matter if we weren't perfect, because the way videos are shot, there's a flash of this, a flash of that.

Everyone, including the band, keeps coming up to us to tell us how great we were. How they wish they could have seen more. Asking me if how long I've been a dancer, and if we're a troupe. I didn't get home until 1 in the morning.

It was all very surreal.

Mostly because of this:

I love to dance. I've been taking these African classes for over 4 years, and people run up to me after class to tell me how impressed they are, how long did it take to get this good, how much they enjoy watching me dance.

I realize that I'm not the best compliment-accepter, and it's taken me a long time to even be able to accept one at all, without feeling like the other person is just placating me.

But I'm a petite, skinny, white girl, and I have always felt like this style of dance looks best when it's done, by, well, a buxom, curvy, sometimes even just FAT dark-skinned woman. When I see these large woman, bedecked in colorful prints and headscarves, undulating and pulsing where even the smallest movement creates a ripple effect in their whole bodies... I know I can never recreate that with my own.

Anyway, a load of fun, and the experience of a lifetime.

Link to the preview of the song "Must be the Moon"

Mermaid Parade

The Mermaid Parade is the most glorious of all parades in New York. Maybe in the planet.



Every year, a bunch of us swing dancers get dressed up in one outfit or another, and begin the summer beach season at Coney Island in the parade.

I'm not telling my theme, but it will be RUFFLY and SHINY. Here's a hint...