Any shoes to dancing shoes

Dancing shoes are a big investment for the beginner. This post may, if you are lucky, help you postpone that investment until you are sure you want to make it.

But the reason I'm doing it now is this: nobody sells nice, women's shoes, that are good for leading. Women's tango practice shoes are designed for following, but not for wearing with a dress. Alternatives are either too delicate (ballet shoes) or just horrible (dance trainers or Greek sandals). It is possible to lead in heels, but difficult. They create mechanical issues that aren't such a problem in following, especially with the knees, and the angles between hips and shoulders.

What I ideally want for leading is a fully flat, feminine dance shoe. And there aren't any. I'm not exactly sure why not, but none of the brands has come anywhere close to acknowledging the possibility of a woman dancing in flat shoes; although women very commonly lead some of the time, socially and in classes*.

These, however, are nearly perfect. They're extremely comfortable, with flexible soles and a not-too-tight elastic band holding them onto the foot. They look nice and are very reasonably priced, too, from Clarks. You can get this style for under £30 in the sale, if you're lucky, and there are several colours and variations.

Lovely soft flexible shoe, well held on the foot

The only problem is the soles. They are rubber, which is far too grippy for dancing. Try to dance tango in these, lead or follow, and you'll do some damage to your knees or ankles very quickly. This is the problem with most sporty shoes.

Rubber soles are too grippy for dancing

Here is the solution. A roll of stick-on fabric bandage, and a small pair of scissors. What kind of bandage you use, is not that crucial - a flesh colour would be better than white, but I couldn't find any. You don't want any padding, though, just a plain fabric bandage.

Stretch very gently, stick, and cut roughly

Cover the soles at the front with the bandage. If it is elastic, stretch it very slightly, as it will stick better that way. But not too much, or it will come off at the edges. You will probably need two bands, and I find it works better if I make the edges meet, rather than overlapping them. Cut it roughly first, then carefully fold it back and trim around the edges of the sole. There's no need to do the heel, unless you want to, as you'll lift it off the floor when you turn anyway.

Trimming in progress

Rub the bandage well into the sole. You end up with a sole that's a bit less grippy than a new suede one, but will wear to about the same grip as a somewhat worn leather one. Just replace the bandage if it comes unstuck or you're no longer happy with the grip. This stuff comes in 5-metre rolls.

The new surface

While I'm about it, I'll point out that it's totally possible to follow in these. When I do, I take care to get my heels down. Men who follow well never mince about on tiptoes. Like leading in heels, I think it's harder, it's tricky to maintain the right sort of forward energy, but that's all.

Of course, you can also do this with heeled shoes. If you have a pair of flexible, comfortable, well-balanced heels that would be perfect if they weren't too grippy, you can adapt them for dancing in the same way.

Conversely, if you want to wear your beautiful dancing shoes to a party, the same trick works in reverse and protects their soles against the floor. Within reason.

Thanks to Blaz and Samar for teaching me this tip!

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*  As an aside, although it's much less usual for men to follow socially, men's dance shoes are available with disguised heels well into the range of what is comfortable for following. But I don't know whether anyone chooses that kind and wears them for that purpose.

El Flaco Dany

I was privileged to see that performance - it was extremely interesting.

Last Chance to See: Dany and Lucia are at the Crypt tomorrow (today now actually), Negracha (I think) on Monday and a couple of other places for a few more days. The tango-uk list will probably fill you in if you haven't got a flyer.

Here were the things that were in my head afterwards.

1. If you can wear a golden-beige silk suit and two-tone shoes, chew gum, and walk up to a woman exactly like that, and it all really works and you don't look like a fool, you have something very special for which there is absolutely no substitute. Call it presence, or style. Whatever it is, imitation would miss the point.

2. About half way through the second track I had a revelation about someone completely different in a totally unrelated performance; I suddenly understood what he had been trying to do, and why it hadn't really worked in performance terms, because now I could see where it came from and what was needed for it to work. An otherwise baffling memory made complete sense.

3. That same thing - the transforming thing - is very difficult to film when it's there in real life. So I'm glad I saw this live, it was very informative. (I've heard that actors with great screen presence are sometimes the other way round - it just isn't there without the camera).

4. I'm sorry I missed seeing him dancing socially, I think I was too late by a tanda or so.

Fans for men and women

Fans. In Italy and in the south of France, men seem to use them almost as commonly as women; I've even seen an Italian man include one in his Facebook profile picture. The highly efficient, plain-coloured cloth and paper ones are popular; so are the smooth wooden kind, sometimes with broadly or finely painted flowers.

I can only think of one regular partner here who normally uses one. I don't know why they aren't more popular with men. They are an excellent means of cooling down, and the men wear more clothes and get hotter than we do.

I think the Argentinians feel it's a bit effeminate or affected. But the Italians think it's cool.

They are beautiful. I have a really classy Spanish painted one for special occasions, and a very effective, cheerful plastic one with lace and a rose print that was a present from an admirer, which I use a lot. It has so many colours, it goes with everything I wear.

At festivals there is a bonus; if you have a distinctive one, and you use it all weekend, it helps potential partners keep track of who you are and identify you with confidence when you are sitting down. They can also tell their friends: descriptions of humans tend to be vague and emotional, but a description of a fan can be rather specific. (Obviously, this is only a bonus if you dance well. If being mistaken for other people is a plus for you, then you're better off working on the dancing).

I went to a festival in Barcelona last year. The organisers had bought a job lot in assorted colours of the kind of cheap, plain, brightly coloured wooden fans sold everywhere in Spain, they'd written the event's name on each of them in gold pen, added a healthy amount to the price, and put them on sale as souvenirs.

Packing Light

(For a reader who wants to suss this)

Milonga plan:
Friday: Reddish skirt, black top, silver jewellery to brighten it, shawl.
Saturday (day): trousers (also streetwear), reddish top. Wash or steam top on return to hotel. Shawl.
Saturday (night): Black dress. Red jewellery. Shawl.
Sunday (day): Skirt again, this time with the other top. Shawl.
Shoes: only one pair is necessary for this set of outfits. But eventually, I put in another, extra-low, second-hand pair because I know some of the floors are very hard. I don't want to be dancing less than I wish because my feet hurt.
Fan.
Emergency Chocolate for eating at 02:30.
Foldable shopping bag to do duty as milonga bag and street bag.

Other necessaries:
Underwear for all the above
Silk nightwear(packs to nothing).
Makeup, toothbrush, comb. Hair thingies. Contact lenses.
Thingie for plugging ipod into other thing, in case that's possible in the hotel [it wasn't], so I can do some exercise.
Camera, fully charged.

Streetwear and warmth:
Travel in jeans, t-shirt, cardigan, and shawl worn as scarf, coat, street shoes.
Street-to-dance trousers are already in.
2 pairs minisocks.
2 Clean t-shirts.

Spa visit:
Swimsuit. (Everything else will be hired).

Logistics (in top or outer pocket of bag):
Airport Security bag with shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, Savlon, deodorant, mascara
Purse of UK currency + debit card. Purse of Euros.
Fully charged mobile (it's only a weekend, it's not a smartphone, I don't need the charger).
Passport.
Boarding card from online check-in.
Directions.
Schedule and orientation sheet.
Notebook and pen.

Easy.

My basic formula:

Devise an overall colour scheme for the whole weekend; for example blue/green/silver, or black/crimson/beige, or blue/purple/black/silver. Imagine you're thinking up the heroine's dresses in a really cheap romantic novel - you probably know the way they do it.
This colour scheme should result in a maximum of two pairs of shoes. If more are taken, it should be for other reasons of necessity like floor conditions and hours of dancing or your personal tendency to get blisters or the possibility of breakage.
One formal skirt or pair of trousers.
Two different tops that both go with the above, at least one of which should be washable and quick-drying, and at least one of which should be suitable for a daytime milonga as well as evening.
One formal one-piece.
One less formal skirt or pair of trousers for day milongas, that should double as streetwear and also go with at least one of the tops, preferably both.

If it's the kind of festival where there are more than four milongas in total (say, up to seven over a long weekend - F1 F2 Sa1 Sa2 Su1 Su2 M), then it makes sense to add another another skirt or pair of trousers some more tops. I may make space by leaving out the one-piece so that I have more outfits for the same amount of clothes, at least if some of it is washable. Then I try to make sure that everything, or almost everything, will go with at least two other things and produce a satisfactory outfit.

If you prefer to wear dresses rather than tops-and-bottoms, then that's a different situation. As long as they are not too bulky, you just take enough, and the only problem is whether they go with your shoes.

I think it's pretty easy for a woman to do a European-style 'encuentro' and comfortably fit inside the Ryanair hand luggage allowance. You just need a well-tried working wardrobe and confidence in your own style. It's not a good idea to vary your look much; if you take one dress in a totally different style, shape or colour scheme, all it does is confuse people about which person is you, waste time and cause you to miss dances. I've made this mistake a couple of times.

If I was staying in a hostel rather than a hotel, I might need to take my own towel, which would mean a slightly bigger bag. In winter, I use the bigger bag and I take thin layers.

But maybe the important part of my packing technique is a truculent, selection-committee attitude to my wardrobe. I try to get out of the frame of mind in which I want to take all sorts of things that I like, and get into one in which every piece has to justify its place by teamwork in pursuit of a plan.

Considering Hair

The rather hypermasculine style of long hair for men, worn completely unbound - or 'naked hair', as Melina vividly calls it - is hardly ever worn for dancing, probably because of its impracticality if you're trying to dance with someone. It's far more common in specialised IT trades, and for scientists (see: Luxuriant Flowing Hair Club for Scientists), engineers, and people who work in TV and radio studios. It tickles your partner's face, and they might blow in your ear.

Women tend to confine their hair at least in some sort of hairband or decorative headdress, men at least in a ponytail.

So, do I put my arm under, or over, the ponytail? Hair can be rather slippery, and I might accidentally pull it. But putting the arm underneath means excessive handling, which might be going a bit too far; and the whole process might have to be done again if we adjust our embrace during the dance. So I usually put my arm on top and let him worry about it, he can flip it out himself if he wants to. Or I put my hand lower, below the end.

The ponytail, to any length between shoulderblade and waist (depends on your genes), could - I think, wrongly - be perceived as the tango equivalent of the "Hair Explosion" affected by some holders of university professorships, perhaps to give an impression of genius, or perhaps to help their students remember who they are, or perhaps because to them it is the epitome of normal.

In my view, the true tango equivalent of the Hair Explosion is not the ponytail, but the Latin Mullet. I have never forgotten a deep-black and exceedingly glossy Latin Mullet that I encountered early in my tango career - I wouldn't have laughed at all if he hadn't also chosen deep-black patent leather shoes with a precisely equal gloss.

If people are not too flustered or absentminded, they sometimes flip it forward over the shoulder to keep it out of the way, as part of their routine going into the embrace. I think that's sweet, I really like it, and I try to remember to do it on the few occasions I dance with my hair down. Lifting it up so I can put my arm underneath is perhaps just a bit flirtatious ... but as long as you're going to maintain the embrace, I don't have a problem with it.

Shoe Brands and Heel Heights

If you wear heels to dance in, you probably have a current preference as to heel height. And suppliers and makers of dance shoes normally tell you what their heel height is, so you can decide which product to buy, if you order online.

There are, however, pretty wide variations to how they measure.

My preferred heel height for tango shoes is, more or less, 7cm - which is about the same as 2.75" if you're American, or you're the kind of British eccentric who measures even small things in the old-fashioned way, instead of only things larger than you can easily carry. At 9cm I'll get joint pain, knee strain, and a choppy, ungainly motion. 8cm is my maximum. Lower is fine by me, right down to socks.

Here are some salsa shoes, made by a company called Oobashoo, who as far as I know are British. They sell these heels as 2.75". I've rested a steel ruler, which starts at zero, in the gully of the seam that goes up the back of each pair of shoes, and taken a picture as near straight-on as I could manage so there's not too much perspective. Then I've continued the ruler's lines at 7cm and 8cm across the picture.

Oobashoo - 2.75 inch heels (=7cm)

Here, I think a 7cm measurement is fair; your foot is about 7cm off the ground where the heel supports it, allowing for the thickness of the sole.

This next pair are made in Italy for a German brand, Werner Kern. Their range for the tango market is called Nueva Epoca. This style is labelled as a 7cm heel. (The thickness of the heel is completely irrelevant to comfort or function as far as I'm concerned, as long as it's correctly placed, and in many cases I prefer the look of the thicker ones; but a thinner heel is the current fashion for tango.)

Werner Kern Nueva Epoca - 7cm heel

It's about the same as the Oobashoo. Nothing in it, really.

Lastly, here are the well-known Argentinian brand, Comme Il Faut (sold in London by Coleccion la Recoleta). Comme Il Faut label them as 7cm heels. I really think this is pushing it. I would label them 8cm. On the upside, if I can dance well in these without hurting myself, then I can probably wear Nueva Epoca's 8cm styles.

Comme Il Faut - “7”cm heel

But it's marginal. The difference between the Oobashoo and the Comme Il Faut is more than enough to cause problems if it comes at a point that's crucial for your body. And all of these are labelled as the same height.

When I buy a new brand I try to have a longish try-on with big steps and pivots, and to wear them first to a nice long gentle practice session, and do some boring technique exercises, just to make sure they're OK, rather than find out they're not when it matters.

Weekender Packing List - Lessons Learned

Ever been to a tango weekender? Or thought about it, and wondered what to take?

Here's what I learned from my four days in the south of France. Men might simplify things a bit by taking a suit, which would deal with all of the evening milongas, but then you have to puzzle out the shirts and ties. And for the daytime milongas people wore all sorts. Polo shirts and chinos are a pretty safe bet, but I had lovely dances with guys in cargo shorts and flipflops.

Key: Final packing list, comments on return.


The Brief: 5 nights, 4 milongas, unfamiliar Mediterranean climate. 18-22C, possibly windy. Might want to do tourist things. Actually there were 7 milongas! I hadn't understood the programme.

Dancing
Dancing Shoes 1 (pink tone) I only wore these once, with dress 1, and they're a bit tight for a long milonga. I should order a half-size up in this brand.
Dancing Shoes 2 (silver tone) Wore them all the time - these are the half size up. Winner.
Dress 1 (attention-getting and folds up to nothing) That worked.
Dress 2 (also folds up to nothing - very pretty - quieter though. Could conceivably be worn as daywear, if not too windy) That didn't work. Put it on and it just felt wrong. Something about the climate and fabric and proportions. Felt sweaty. Didn't wear it.
2-piece outfit 1 (relatively casual but bright and cheerful, super-pretty, both parts recycle as daywear) Winner, wore the sweet little Audrey-Hepburn Capri trousers for 2 milongas and as daywear for 2 days.
2-piece outfit 2 (relatively warm in case of unexpected weather, top recycles as daywear, dark colour) This took care of one of the milongas I hadn't counted in the planning. But the skirt is a bit too big and rides down - requires an anti-static slip.
2-piece outfit 3 (relatively formal - cheerful colour - top recycles as daywear) This covered for the failure of Dress 2.
Little Black Dress as backup in case I've totally missed the tone. Didn't need it, but don't grudge the space to proper risk management.
Underwear as required by above.
Knee length zip-up over-dress to wear over outfits when walking to and from the venue. Very glad I put this in at the last minute, otherwise wouldn't have worn Dress 1.

There's 2 outfits redundancy there, but that's because I'm not familiar with the climate or the venue and I don't know exactly who's going or how they dress or whether there's aircon or fans, or whether Dress 1 might be out-of-place. Redundancy and flexibility, luckily.

Both pairs of shoes are comfortable rather than demanding; long nights. Good call. My feet hurt up to the knees at the end of day 1. Any of my other shoes would have been disastrous.

Daywear
Denim skirt Did the job well but could have either gone without it, or worn it instead of the tourist trousers and avoided the attention of security at King's Cross - I forgot that if you have visible pockets on loose garments, they always search you. Pencil skirt again next time.
Various cotton tops used one for one of the uncounted milongas and 2 things to cover the shoulders only needed the one that matches Dress 1 
Spare light hot-weather skirt, folds up to nothing. Took care of another milonga - good call.
Factor 50 sun cream essential
Belt
Beach towel didn't need it
Foldable kitbag didn't need it
Bag with all bits for doing hair, legs, face. Decanted shampoo, conditioner. Bobby pins.
Daywear flat sandals. Wore them all the time and danced in them twice.

Will wear tourist trousers on train with ankle-covering canvas shoes and socks, and hoodie; those will do for any off-road walking. Perfect - took me up the telepherique, hoodie took care of cool evenings.

Camera essential
Charger
Phone
Charger
Adapter for chargers
2x spare SD cards for camera

Document wallet with all booking references, train tickets, and passport.

Small bag with book, money, cards, and knitting.

The only thing I had to buy was sticking plasters for my feet.

Unsatisfactory product

I have 2 mascaras. One (expensive) which transfers itself to a neat little arc on my right cheek in close embrace with a man of appropriate height. And presumably on him as well, although I didn't spot it in time and there was enough fuzz for it not to show. Another (cheap, but not waterproof) which does not.

That is all.

Analysis of an outfit

From a friend of this blog:

"How would you describe your outfit [that you were wearing] and ideally what's the thinking behind it? I'm working on a theory ..."

And now, somewhat edited, my response.

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Err ... not sure what you're looking for here. I suppose a practical analysis, and practicality is a very important aspect of this particular outfit, but that's misleading without the aesthetic analysis.

The trousers are a bit old-ladyish, you won't see them approved of by any magazine, but I like them because they're warm and washable and require no ironing but have a bit of shine and flow. The point of them is that they can comfortably be worn on public transport in winter as well as at the milonga; they don't attract attention and I won't be too cold if I have to wait for a bus. The glamorous-grannyness is ok in context.


The top, too, is glamorous but practical, partly lined, well designed and of good materials. Quick hand wash, quick dry, and cool on the upper body so I won't get sweaty. It's sexy without being explicitly revealing, and counteracts the grannyness.

Mrs Robert Scott Moncrieff,
Henry Raeburn, Scotlandsource.com

Seen from the front, it shows off my figure and creates a visual focus on the face; the total visual effect is of the lower edge of a frame, so that the bosom and face together form a bright flower set on top of a smooth, columnar stalk.

Visually, in the artistic tradition of European portraits, it has a certain amount in common with the neoclassical Regency look [see Henry Raeburn - Mrs Scott Moncrieff, left, and Jean-Francois Ducq - Mary Lodge], and a certain amount with the 17th century fashion in which dark-coloured but luxurious fabrics of beautiful texture were topped with a crisp white collar or ruff framing the face and emphasising the bosom, shoulders, and eyes in much the same way, but covering the skin [see Franz Hals - a Dutch Lady, below].

As for the specifically tango aspects - this top was also chosen because all the eye-catching decoration is at the back, but not of a kind to cause problems with any normal embrace, while at the front there's nothing to catch on buttons or distract the eye. Most high-street chains put all the detail at the front, and the back looks disappointing, but there are exceptions, so I look out for them.

A Dutch Lady, Franz Hals,
National Gallery of Scotland

The trousers, being full-length, give me the visual unity and physical warmth that a long skirt would without the disadvantages. A long skirt just involves too much fabric in the wrong place under too little control - that, or it has to be split to the thigh and look like a theatrical costume. Both visually and practically it just gets in the way, or sends the wrong message, or both.

If I wanted to dance predominantly 'nuevo' style, I'd advertise that fact with more fashionable trousers that put a lot more emphasis on the hips. I'd probably choose different tops too, again bringing the eye to the hips rather than the shoulders, and I might try to create a more broken outline with less visual formality generally, in a different choice of colours and fabrics.

With this outfit, you can't see my feet or shoes very well. This is fairly unusual and you could interpret it as little bit of a counter-tango-fashion statement. I chose the outfit for practicality and look, but in as far as it's telling you anything about how to look at me, it's telling you to look at the embrace rather than just the legs and feet. Together with the glamorous-grannyness of the trousers in the first place - it certainly encourages the idea that I want to dance 'salon', albeit perhaps of a relatively modern and intellectual flavour, not necessarily limited to dancing with men, or in just one style, or with people over six feet tall.

The shoes go along with this - they're very pretty, and higher than I would wear to work, but I have chosen not to wear spikes. They're a single colour, with the heels thicker and lower than the name-brand tango shoes, and incidentally they're about half the price and they go with more of my outfits. Now it's mainly that I've tried tango spikes and I just don't really get on with them, but if these send a message that I'd prefer to underpromise and overdeliver rather than the contrary, that's fine with me.

Those are the messages it carries for me, anyway. Of course there is no reason to assume that that's what it succeeds in communicating to anyone else.

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After reading my response, my friend revealed his theory, which I hope he will write about himself (a guest post would be nice, or I'll do a link). It was that he might choose better among unknown partners, and thereby improve his evening, by paying a bit more attention to what women were wearing. We choose what we wear on purpose, so maybe we say something about why were are there and what sort of dance we want to have. (So do at least some of the men, of course, as a commenter said on "different dresses".) He knows that he finds me easy to dance with, and so he thought he might look, with an artist's eye, for other women sending the same messages.

Different dresses

Someone asked me today to explain "the thinking behind" an outfit I had worn, and I might give you an edited version of that later. I don't know why he wanted to know yet, maybe just because it was very different from someone else's in the same context. But in looking up a reference (I wanted to point him to a picture that Anne Hollander had used as an illustration somewhere) I rediscovered this:

Anne Hollander, Sex and Suits:

It had first become clear in the early part of the nineteenth century that when all men wear a white tie and a black tailcoat in the evening, the individual character of each man is made more important, not less; and a curious effect then occurs in mixed company. If each woman at the ball is carefully wearing something different, the different costumes are what you see first across the room, making a variable scene; but consequently the faces might as well be all the same, just as if the same doll were dressed in many different ways. When two women wear the same dress, however, the first thing you see is how different the actual women really look.

I agree - nowadays, of course, the effect is reduced by men dressing more differently from one another.

Later in the same chapter, she continues:

... in fact the appeal of the modern suit in our period is still its combined look of comfort and crispness, with its neat collar and tie that perpetually defy the forces of hot weather, hard work and high anxiety, its uruffled tailored envelope suggesting an invincible physical aplomb, including sexual. No sweat-suits, cycling gear or wrinkled khakis can hope to convey such a superior level of ease.

And here in the margin I seem to have written, in pencil, "Roger Federer".