Back in the Saddle (or ballet shoe)

I’ve finally done it. I went back to ballet class.  It’s been years since I was in dance class.  The mirror has not been my friend (but that’s another story for another time).  I got a great deal on Groupon for ballet class at the Joffrey Academy of Dance.  I purchased the Groupon in January, but it took me until April to get my ass to class.

There was the issue of the lost ballet shoes.  I had two pairs of relatively new ballet shoes, and they disappeared into the ether of my closet.  It’s kind of okay because when I had my mother sew the elastics on the shoes, she used black thread.  Did you hear me?  She used BLACK thread on my pink ballet slippers.  Oy, mother.

So, it took a couple of months for me to purchase new ballet slippers.  Then, it took me a couple of months to sew the elastics on.  (I used bright yellow thread).  Then, it took a couple of weeks to gather the courage.

So, three weeks ago I made it to a Sunday morning class.  It wasn’t as bad (read: painful) as I thought it would be.  I thought I wouldn’t be able to walk come Tuesday, but I was pretty okay.  The studio is beautiful.  It is right on the corner of State and Randolph just north of Marshall Fields.  Two of the walls are floor to ceiling windows, and it is just an amazing city view.  I’ll have to take an evening class to see the night view.

I learned that if I raise my eyebrows during relevé, I can balance much better.  I also have decided that arabesque is an unnatural position and should not be required in people over 40.  I also learned that I get much dizzier than I ever have before when doing turns across the floor.  On my second week of class, the teacher was trying to give me a correction after a turn sequence, and I was so dizzy, I couldn’t even see her.

Sunday mornings are a great time for ballet class, so feel free to join me.  I’ll be the chick hiding in the back, wearing all black.

"At The Ballet"

This past Friday was the third and final performance in our (my friend Jenn and my) subscription to the Joffrey Ballet. We purchased our subscription with a deal through Groupon, and have gone to dinner and the ballet for three shows starting last December. It is great fun for two former dancers to thoroughly pig out at dinner, and then watch thin as rails ballerinas mock us.


At the dinner before this last one, Jenn and I went to a fast food Indian restaurant on State Street (she was running late due to unpredictable traffic and we adjusted our plan for Indian food at a regular restaurant, to a fast food joint). There was a couple in line just ahead of us, and it was a woman who wears a veil and is covered head-to-toe. It wasn’t just a veil though, it covered her entire face. ENTIRE FACE. We couldn’t even see her eyes. To eat, she would take her gloved hand, and take her food behind the veil. Then, shit got weird. Her husband started taking pictures of her in the restaurant. She was head-to-toe covered in black. No eyes, no fingers, no ears, NOTHING. Do you think she was smiling under there when her husband pointed the camera at her? I bet she said, “Do I have anything in my teeth?” And I’m sure her husband said, “say cheese, honey.”

Jenn and I could not stop staring. It was the oddest thing.

But, back to this past week... Jenn arrived to my place in plenty of time, and we headed to the ‘real’ Indian restaurant and shared veggie samosas, garlic naan, and a bottle of white wine. We also each had an entry that made Jenn ‘glow’ (aka sweat her ass off because of the spices). Time flew, and when we arrived at the theater, we heard, “two minutes to curtain”. The show was really good, and we have committed to next season’s subscription. We are such cultured bitches.

The time I was in the opera. No, really, I was.

 

It was the summer before 6th grade, and I was supposed to go with a group of girls from my Calumet City (south suburb of Chicago) dance studio to audition for something or another. I was sick in a fetal position on the couch, and my mom was getting ready to call one of the other mothers and tell her that I wouldn’t make it to the audition. I was sick in the summer, so my birthday must have been approaching. I was always sick for my birthday. I would get so excited and worked up, that inevitably, I would get myself good and sick with a fever and tonsillitis.

I begged my mom to let me go to the audition. I couldn’t let my best friends go without me. What if I missed out on something fun!?

My mom drove to downtown Chicago, and I auditioned. I remember being in an auditorium somewhere and dancing on a large stage. I remember having to do grand jetés across the stage and my mother later telling me that I looked (or was it sounded?) like an elephant leaping across the stage. Hmmm, bummer, I probably wouldn’t get the part.

Well, lo and behold! Six of us from our dance studio made the cut! We were cast in an opera. Not just any opera, an opera at the Lyric Opera, at the Civic Opera House downtown. Wow.

For the rest of the summer, the six of us were car pooled downtown for rehearsals. I think there about 20-25 girls all together from all over Chicagoland. It was the summer of a lifetime…….going downtown all the time, going to high floors at the Civic Opera House for sweat filled rehearsals. I have always loved rehearsing. Learning the choreography, finding out what we would be doing. It was always so exciting for me. I met new friends; I got an ID card to get me back stage at the opera. It was a yellow card with my name and it said that I was 4’10” (just two and a half years later, I would measure in at 5’10”).

We were cast as demons in the opera: The Love for Three Oranges. The year was 1979. I keep looking for the opera to come back to Chicago. I would love to see it and to hear the music I heard 500 times over the course of a few months.

We were fitted for our demon costumes, and naturally, they were black, therefore, we needed black ballet slippers, and they bought them for us! That was like the biggest deal ever. Someone was giving us ballet slippers, OMG!!

As I recall, we did 7 shows. We also had at least one dress rehearsal. Remember when I said I could get myself worked up and sick from excitement? Well, the night of the first dress rehearsal, me and my gang of ballerina demons were eating our usual healthy pre-performance meal: taco flavored Doritos, some main course meal consisting of chocolate, and this part I am certain of: Orange Crush. The reason I am certain of it is because I was so excited about this performance, that I got worked up, and got sick in the bathroom, with my Orange Crush coming back up and burning my nose as it did. What a freaking bummer! I was sidelined for dress rehearsal. An alternate filled my ballet shoes.

I was ready for the real deal, though. Seven shows at the Lyric Opera! A cast of people that I couldn’t understand (their accents were thick), amazing costumes, a stage that lifted up and down, and a list of experiences that I would like to be hypnotized to remember more vividly.

One thing I do remember, is that the elevator operator at the Opera House’s name was Bruce, and at the time the song, “Don’t Bring Me Down” by Electric Light Orchestra was popular. You may (or may not) remember that the lyrics were: “Bruce, don’t bring me down.” Can you imagine how much fun a bunch of 11 and 12 year-old girls had getting in an elevator with Bruce, and singing that song over and over (and over)? Poor Bruce.

From what I remember, the leader of us demons was a woman named Fata Morgana (or at least that is the name that I hear sung in my head when I think about the opera). (I just looked it up on Wikipedia, and that name is exactly correct). She was an older woman, but now that I think about it, at the time, 40 years old could have been older to me. She was probably a very famous opera star, and for the first show, as our gang of little demons circled her on stage, one of us stepped on her gown, and it ripped. Whoops.

I don’t know how many shows my mom and dad came to. I would imagine my mom made most shows, and I am sure (as the picture shows) that my dad made at least one show. I am aware that he slept for most of the opera, but that’s okay, I’m sure he was awake to see his little demon dance on the floor of the Civic Opera House.

We were heavily compensated for our roles as demons. I received a check in the mail for $100. It was made out to me! I earned that money and to me, that might as well have been $100,000 because for a 10 year-old in 1979, a $100 was a lot of money.

I still have the program from the opera, and yes, my name is listed in there.
So, there you have it, a little known fact about the time I was in an opera and had the time of my life.