Present Yourself!

So I finally did the near-naked thing in ballet class. Dear Reader, before you skip a beat,  let me assure you. It was not the wardrobe malfunction kind, where you forget to pull up your leo after hurrying (back) to class. And where the first one to notice you all Josephine Baker-like is the only guy in class, sweetly asking you if you did not forget something. I swear this has really happened. Fortunately not to me. Phew. Although, once I had almost too much of a reveal when I was in a very deep cambré to the back. Yay for flexibilty, not so much for too much of cleavage.

Which reminds of a story about the courtesans of old Venice, told to me by my opera-singer/dancer friend. Apparently, when business was not going so well, said ladies obtained permission to display their bounty over the window-sills - thus inspiring new fashions of deep cleavages. And apparently an image helpful to singers and dancers alike. Do not open your ribcage, but stack it over the sill. There you go.

Present yourself! This instruction is repeated to us class after class. Don´t show off your boobs (save this for later), but your jambes, pieds, talons, bras, épaulement, head and eyes. Own your dancing body, and then own the stage. Present your gorgeous arches, heels and legs and upper body. Engage with your audience, imaginary or not. It changes everything, even in class. A dancer who looks down at her feet, loses the line. A dancer who does not look beyond her elongated arm, is closed off in her own little space. It shows.

Yesterday, I started my class as usual - that is in my now-favorite warm-up romper. Comfortable, warm, cozy, hide-it-all. Usually I discard any extra wear after our plié exercise, but I had figured out that you can roll the legs up and and the top down. It´s a very pro-dancer-y look. Really flattering only on a skinny ballet bod, but I like to use my imagination. Anyway, I had planned to toss the thing in my bag right after barre. Which was really no option, as we were all hot and red-faced and sweaty by the time we did our frappés(how´s that for a lovely ballerina image?). But, after I had stripped down and was reaching into my bag for my ballet skirt - there was none! I must have left it in the locker! Our teacher gives us no break between barre and center, so I could not go to look. No choice but to suck it up. Literally.

So, there I stood with nothing between me and the mirror except for one black leotard and black leggings. I did also wear a long-sleeve, cut-off top made out of old black tights, which made my upper half all modest and covered. But. My butt, that is. All exposed to the world. I was admittedly unnerved. In ballet class you spend substantial time to keep that popo in a plum line, with your tail-bone pointed down. Which suits me just fine, I´ve never been one to flaunt my derrière. Not that anyone in class was looking or could have cared any less.

I decided to go for it. Present myself. It´s a bit like jumping off from a high spot into deep water. Either you dive in or you butt out. And I gotta tell you.. Although I was acutely aware of my every little line and curve, it was not so bad. In fact, it made me work harder. Dance better. This time, less was like totally more. But(t) enough is enough. By the time we were doing our pirouette exercises across the floor, I was mentally exhausted and changed back into my trusted romper. Baby steps, darlings. Baby steps..

Photo above post: Lana Jones of Australian Ballet. Photographer: Justin Smith.