This Side of Paradise, Revisited

This weekend I went to the Art Deco Society's Annual Gatsby Summer Afternoon. I was invited to go months and months ago by some friends, and as the date approached, I started thinking of all of the other things I could/should be doing (like dancing, grocery shopping, etc.) because I was kind of afraid that I was going to be stuck with a bunch of odd characters, like the kinds of people who re-enact Civil War battles or go to Renaissance Faires and adopt really bad Elizabethan accents.

So I was kind of expecting to be hanging about with some wannabe drunken Zeldas in their rented flapper outfits, but I was pleasantly surprised. In fact, I was super pleasantly surprised. I had an absolute ball.

For starters, these Art Deco people are serious. They were into not just the clothes, but the history, the slang, the dancing, the whole period. There was not a rented costume in sight. (I have to admit that my outfit was stellar and I fit right in...I'll post pics if they do me justice. Otherwise you will have to imagine that I looked fab.) The most amazing hats, parasols, lace, shoes...and that was just the men. (No, I'm kidding!) But everyone put such care into how they dressed, including their hair, makeup and accessories. They looked good. It was like being an extra on a film set.

All of the picnics had vintage linens, china, glass and silver. No paper plates. No styrofoam cups. Cell phones were not allowed, if you can believe that one. People picnicked around their vintage cars. There was a Charleston contest. The Royal Society Jazz Orchestra played, and the singers and emcee sounded just like they stepped out of 1925. The Deco Belles, the bathing beauties, paraded with their gartered stockings and one-piece swim suits in vivid colors. Charles Lindbergh could have shown up and he'd have felt right at home.

This was the period, just after World War I, that tango dancing exploded in Europe. (See, I found a way to bring this all around.) Even though most of the dancing at the picnic was Lindy or Charleston-centered, they did play a few tangos but not the kind we are accustomed to hearing at milongas. I did get to dance one great tango with a new-found dance partner and overheard a couple of little whispers from the sidelines: No, they're doing Argentine tango.

I just came across some really interesting info on the history of tango in this century as the dance made its way through Europe and then back to the USA. Although it's not the kind of tango we prefer, I got a kick out of thinking of our predecessors dancing such a scandalous dance in their scandalous new way of dress (no corsets, the bra wasn't invented yet) and you know what...these people paved the way for us today. Your grandmother or grandfather might have been one of them!

Chasing Beauty

I was reading something about Kiki de Montparnasse, who was the muse and lover of Man Ray. Just the mention of Kiki's name got me thinking about Man Ray, and how his images are so moving to me, and then that got me thinking about other things that give me the same feeling.

Each of us have certain sights, sounds, scents, tastes that we crave, repeat, long for--sensations that evoke some private, fleeting bit of heaven. I know that's why I dance tango: it's an easy way for me to be in that moment. But there are other situations, perhaps more sublime or transitory, that will do that too.

Are tango dancers more sensual beings than other people? I don't think so, but perhaps we've just found a way to get our fix faster?

I've had a bad headache today. It's finally, finally going away after all day, but the little headache that lingers puts me in this hyper-aware state. Things seem a little louder, a little brighter, a little more forceful than usual. Perhaps that's why I'm so fixated on this topic of sensation today.

What transports you? Tell me. I found it interesting to see how these sensations are grouped, for myself. I'm curious to see what you come up with.



Sight:
Paintings by Gustave Moreau in his atelier in Montmartre
The Caress, pictured above, by Fernand Knopff
Paintings by Giorgio de Chirico
Photos by Man Ray
Works by Andy Goldsworthy
Red figure and black figure ancient Greek pottery
The last mysterious segment of 2001: A Space Odyssey
The hallway scene in La Belle et La Bete, by Jean Cocteau
The Eagle Nebula, as captured by the Hubble Telescope

Smell:
Privet or boxwood trees
Redwood trees
Double Delight roses
The smell of certain old stairwells in Paris (what is it, the plaster, the wood, the past?)
The smell of Metro stations in Paris (it's a warm, greasy smell)
Chanel No. 5, Hermes 24 Rue Faubourg, and D&G's Sicily perfumes
Cardamom
Marzipan
Fresh thyme
Tomato leaves when you rub them between your fingers
Amber
The jasmine bush in front of my neighbor's house
A little male perspiration and a faint whiff of cologne mixed together

Taste:
That first "pop" when you bite into a juicy hot dog or sausage (you know what I mean)
Really really good hamachi sashimi
Foie gras (no judgement here, please)
Bacon
Crunchy salt
Soft polenta with lots of butter
Coffee with cardamom in it (the kind they sell at Middle Eastern stores)
Saffron
A perfect bing cherry
Bittersweet or dark chocolate
Red Vines
The tiny little drop of nectar that's inside a honeysuckle blossom (wow, that's an old memory!)

Sound (these links all have sound--turn up the speakers and close your eyes):
Nessun Dorma, as sung by the late Luciano Pavarotti, may he rest in peace
The Flower Duet, from Lakmé
Ave Maria, by Schubert
Gymnopedies III, by Satie
Summertime, Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong
My Sweet Lord, by George Harrison
When I can hear the faint sound of a foghorn while I'm still in my bed, sometimes happens around 5 a.m.
Rain (any kind, from drizzle to thunderstorm)
Little kids laughing

Touch:
Walking in mist, especially mist on my face
How my legs feel after I've shaved them and put lotion on them
My hair after Kat blows it dry at the salon
A kitten on my lap
Chenille
Very lightweight silk
When someone else touches my hair

Okay, now it's your turn!

Kiki, encore

The Queen of Montparnasse.

Sisters of the Spirit

Well, not those kind exactly.

I am very fortunate to have two kinds of sisters: my incredibly fabulous baby sister who I have loved since the day she was born (perhaps with a tiny bit of moderation during some of the teenage years), and a growing community of women who are my confederates and confidantes in the world of the dance.

Last night I was feeling particularly lucky because I got to meet one of my inspirations in person, Ms. Tango Hours, at La Pista. She fairly sparkles with joy, and is petite, elegant and completely charming. The night was not nearly long enough to bask in her company. And through her I met two other lovely ladies whom I'm sure I'll enjoy being with again, a bonus!

Last night made me realize how many special people (particularly women) that I have had the very good fortune to meet because, once upon a time, I decided to start learning Argentine Tango. It also made me realize that when you have a sisterhood of the spirit, all triumphs and beautiful moments are shared. My sister's good fortune is my own. When she is happy, I am happy for her.

So for today, here are my thoughts on this Sisterhood of Tango (feel free to add your own to the list!):

We rejoice to see our sisters looking fabulous on the dance floor.

We jubilate when they have a breakthrough in their dancing technique.

We celebrate their newest shoe purchases and do not covet.

We revel in their bliss and thus share a little bit with them.

We commiserate when they've been hurt.

We give thanks that there are such kindred spirits in the world, and how fortunate are we when we find them!

Friday Morning Diva

This is both a product testimonial and a cautionary tale.

Without a doubt, the Shu Uemura fake eyelash adhesive is a fantastic product. This rubbery glue is almost a little too fantastic. It's not watery like the drugstore brand adhesives and dries quickly. When used with care, it allows you to reposition your lashes until the glue is completely set.

When used a bit overzealously, it will keep your diva eyelashes on all night and even into the next morning, with the lashes looking quite flawless even though the rest of you may be a bit bedraggled.

However, if the sultry, smoky eyed look is not what you had in mind for the office the next day, try to use a little less glue.

A nice thing about my office mates is that they politely ask, "Dancing last night?" when I come into work on Friday with mile-long eyelashes that I apparently grew overnight. When the truth of the matter is that I had a wonderful time Thursday night at La Pista and didn't bother with the makeup remover before falling into bed.

The Mad Hatteress

It's midnight, I can't sleep, and for some reason, I feel compelled to buy a hat.

Caterpillar: Who are YOU?
Alice: This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. I -- I hardly know, sir, just at present -- at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.


Help me choose which hat to buy so I can go back to sleep, or go down the rabbit hole.

A Change of Scenery

My Tango Crush has turned into a Tango Cad.

I know this situation happens all the time and more eloquent and better writers have described this type of situation much better than I, so I won't recreate the wheel here.

But it is so disappointing, nonetheless. One can't help but be a little heartbroken.

So I am running away from home for a time. There are new classes and new milongas and new people to meet.

I just hope that guy will be a little sorry, but frankly, I'm sure he won't even notice I'm gone.

Harold Lloyd in Love

Working the Barbary Coast

Last night I snuggled up on the sofa with myself and watched the 1935 film Barbary Coast, starring Edward G. Robinson, Miriam Hopkins and Joel McCrea. Whenever I see a classic movie with some snappy dialogue, I'm never surprised to see that Ben Hecht wrote the screenplay, since he's written so many other of my favorite films. This movie isn't the best showcase of the talents of these three actors* but it's a fun Hollywood romp throught the lawlessness of San Francisco during the Gold Rush.

I've been reading Herbert Asbury's account of the same subject (and you can click here for an online version). To me, San Francisco is a place where you can feel its history, even if you don't really know exactly what that history is. I am compelled to learn about the story of this city whenever I can. It makes me appreciate literally the sidewalk on which I stand, and by association, I become more a part of this place I now call home.

The Barbary Coast is one of those epithets, common enough in our vernacular, but still a phrase that I did not really understand until I did a little homework (from Asbury's book):

"The Barbary Coast is the haunt of the low and the vile of every kind. The petty thief, the house burglar, the tramp, the whoremonger, lewd women, cutthroats, murderers, all are found here. Dance-halls and concert-saloons, where blear-eyed men and faded women drink vile liquor, smoke offensive tobacco, engage in vulgar conduct, sing obscene songs and say and do everything to heap upon themselves more degradation, are numerous. Low gambling houses, thronged with riot-loving rowdies, in all stages of intoxication, are there. Opium dens, where heathen Chinese and God-forsaken men and women are sprawled in miscellaneous confusion, disgustingly drowsy or completely overcome, are there. Licentiousness, debauchery, pollution, loathsome disease, insanity from dissipation, misery, poverty, wealth, profanity, blasphemy, and death, are there. And Hell, yawning to receive the putrid mass, is there also."

The Barbary Coast was a San Francisco neighborhood that began as a popular hangout for the rich during the California Gold Rush (1848 - 1858). It was known for gambling, prostitution and crime, and this area is now overlapped by Chinatown, North Beach, and the Financial District.

According to wikipedia: The Barbary Coast rose from the massive infusion of treasure seeking argonauts during the Gold Rush. Men from Europe, Asia, South America, and the eastern United States sailed into San Francisco Bay bound for the Mother Lode, many only staying in the gold fields briefly before returning to San Francisco broke or with tiny leather sacks of nuggets and gold dust. At the end of 1849, out of a population of between 20,000 and 25,000, only about 300 were women and an estimated almost two-thirds of those were prostitutes.

Miners, sailors, and sojourners hungry for female companionship and bawdy entertainment continued to stream into San Francisco in the 1850s and 60s becoming the Barbary Coast's primary clientele. As The City exploded with the new arrivals, some with shady pasts, soon a wide variety of land sharks, con artists, pimps, and prostitutes staked out an area designed to pluck the gold and silver from the pockets of men through liquor, lust, laudanum-laced libations, or just a hard knock on the head.

Sailors in particular had cause to dread the area because the art of shanghaiing was perfected. Many a sailor woke up after a night's leave to find himself unexpectedly on another ship bound for some faraway port. When there was a shortage of sailors for departing ships any able-bodied man who wandered into the wrong saloon, or drank with the wrong companion, could wake up with a mysterious hangover onboard a ship. Crime in the streets and corruption in the government offices plagued San Francisco in the 1850s.

Nearly all drinking and dancing establishments in the area were destroyed in the fire that followed the 1906 earthquake, but within months a dozen or so were rebuilt and back in business. Between the 1913 anti-vice campaigns led by the San Francisco Examiner and the passage of the 1917 Red-light abatement act, the Barbary Coast was effectively diminished and vice activities hidden from view. In 1917 the San Francisco Police blockaded the neighborhood and evicted the prostitutes.

---

Can you imagine living in a place where the population exploded: from 1,000 inhabitants to over 25 times that amount in the space of a single year? When the sight of a woman would draw crowds of men because they were so rare? And it's been less than 100 years that this neighborhood was finally cleared of its visible vices.

Right now I'm imagining the opium dens that were tucked away a mere two or three blocks from our office. And walking up Montgomery Street, on my way to and from the train, where so much of this lurid history took place, now home to the staid investment houses, banks and crowds of businessmen waiting in line at Starbucks.

There is a large tango community in San Francisco. It makes me wonder if the history of this city, like Buenos Aires, like Paris, with its illicit and lust-filled past, adds an invisible essence to this place that makes tango and its dancers want to collect themselves here. I think it might.

*Favorite movies starring the aforementioned actors:

Edward G. Robinson, Double Indemnity (1944)

Miriam Hopkins, Trouble in Paradise (1932)

Joel McCrea, The Palm Beach Story (1942)

For Red Shoes...

Welcome to San Francisco!

(cue Tony Bennett)












The loveliness of Paris
Seems somehow sadly gay
The glory that was Rome
Is of another day
I've been terribly alone
And forgotten in Manhattan
I'm going home to my city by the bay.


I left my heart in San Francisco

High on a hill, it calls to me.

To be where little cable cars

Climb halfway to the stars!

The morning fog may chill the air

I don't care!

My love waits there in San Francisco

Above the blue and windy sea

When I come home to you, San Francisco,

Your golden sun will shine for me!

When You Can't Write, Read

I've been out of sorts lately and may be catching the office flu that's been going around (just in time for my favorite milonga and holiday weekend, hooray!). I have a thousand ideas for posts, but they are not writing themselves these days and so have been getting dusty inside my head.

So, until I can connect my typing to my thoughts, here are some incredible posts I've been lingering over lately:

La Nuit Blanche's beautiful and emotional The end of the affair, the beginning of another and her inspiring collection of quotes in On steps, music, and tango

Tango Cherie's realistic view of Tango: The Dark Side

La Tanguera's witty exercise on Tango Shoes and what they say about you

Tango in Her Eyes: What Those Tango Lyrics REALLY Mean!

And Still They Tango

Here is the perfect way to take a mini-vacation and enjoy Buenos Aires and tango culture for a few minutes, courtesy of National Geographic.

This multimedia presentation is also a great introduction to the dance for friends and family who have not been bitten by the tango bug...yet.

http://magma.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/0312/sights_n_sounds/media1.html

Thanks to Alex Long for sending out the suggestion.

Daddy's Little Girl

"Sweet" may not be the first word that comes to mind when you think of tango. But this video may be the sweetest tango you ever see in your life. It's Silvio Lavia and his daughter. Thanks to the Tango Baka for posting it first.

Longing

Feeling and longing are the motive forces behind all human endeavor and human creations.
Albert Einstein

Happiness is the longing for repetition.

Milan Kundera

It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them.

George Eliot

***

I danced the best tandas of my tango life last night. It's very hard to be back in the real world today. I am full of sighs.

Besos to my lovely Thursday tangueros.

***

Please visit http://flickr.com/photos/30377048@N00/ to see Alex Long's beautiful tango photos. His contact info is there too.

"San Francisco Tango Life" Video

If you haven't seen this little video before, you're in for a treat. Features local tango teacher Glenn Corteza. (Click on the screen above and it will take you to YouTube.)