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... And The Turning Of A Page
Tonight, I lost a beloved ... my very first pair of dance shoes has finally succumbed.
I bought my first pair of character shoes when I was 14. Character shoes are general Mary-Jane-esque shoes with a low, somewhat wide heel and a sole suitable for all kinds of dancing, from tap to jazz to ballroom to latin and are generic enough to be worn by all sorts of female "characters" on stage in a wide range of costume styles and eras. They're the most popular style of dance shoe for their versatility and their rather timeless style. They're not the most attractive, they don't have the most elegant lines, and they are usually worn by novices and the financially challenged. But they're basic, a good all-around dance shoe.
When I was in 7th grade, I decided I would be an actor. My 7th grade drama teacher had me convinced I could go to Juliard for college (ironically, the same teacher who gave me my first taste at entertainment lighting). It took several more years for me to fully realize just how much I sucked on stage. I mean it, I was really terrible. But at that age, I hadn't yet learned that. So when I got to high school and they announced the school was putting on their very first play, I auditioned, and I was awarded the very prestigious role of "Ensemble Cast".
The show was Nunsense, a quirky little play about 4 Carmelite nuns at a religious school who need to raise money to bury a handful of other dead nuns who were currently residing in the cafeteria freezer, and so put on a talent show to raise the funds. I was one of the postulants, nuns in training, if you will, whose job it was to run on stage and be the backup dancers and singers for whatever number was currently being performed. This meant that I was taught a variety of different dance numbers and styles, but the ones I remember best were tap and jazz.
So, the first day of rehearsal, we were sent home with a list of items that we would need to provide for ourselves, among them being a pair of black character shoes, either 1.5" heel or 2" heel. Well, I had no idea what those were, and I certainly had never worn heeled shoes before, outside of stealing my mother's much larger shoes as a kid and trying to walk around in those. So my mother took me to the nearby dance shop, where we were told we could get these mysterious shoes.
I instantly hated them. I hated the rounded toe, I hated the strap, and I most definitely hated the lower 1.5" heel that my mother insisted I wear because "young ladies do not need high heels" (I think she had some vague idea of spike stilletoes or something similar being worn by "certain women" who most certainly would not be her daughter). I didn't like the shoes because they weren't sexy, the way I thought high heeled shoes should be. They looked like little girl shoes, only a little taller.
At the same time, I hated them because I was an avowed tomboy who vastly preferred to wear my sneakers or go barefoot and this nun's dress was the first time anyone could get me into a dress since kindergarten, outside of my various school graduations which required dresses. (yes, at 14, I was already this strange dichotomy who would go to extremes - I either dressed like a boy or, if I was forced to dress like a girl, dammit, I was gonna make an impact and I wanted it to be sexy, not just "pretty").
So, the second day of rehearsal rolls around and I pull out my brand new shoes. I strap them on and take a few practice steps. I didn't fall over, so I must have done something right.
For the next 4 months, I practically lived in those shoes. And I danced. Lord did I dance! I wasn't particularly good at the dancing, being at that awkward gangly stage and having no dance experience of any kind before, but the moment I executed a perfect triple time step before anyone else, I was hooked. I always knew I liked dancing - my parents sent me to a summer day camp one year in elementary school and they taught us some jazzy/hip-hop routines based on the pop artists of the time, like Janet Jackson and Paula Abdul, and I remember really enjoying it. But there was no formal training, just memorizing a routine and my exposure to it vanished at the end of camp, since my parents refused to pay for dance lessons, believing it was a "phase" and they would have wasted their money when I inevitably gave it up in a month or two.
In time, those shoes became one of the most comfortable pair of shoes I own, and they continued on my journey of dance and self-exploration for the next 18 years.
When I took my first ballroom dance class in the fall of 1996, those were the shoes I wore. When I began cross-dressing (wearing dresses in public not for dance reasons), those were the only girl shoes I owned. About 3 years ago, I finally bought a pair of character shoes in tan, just to have something to wear with outfits for which black shoes didn't go (yes, there are some times when black does *not* actually match), but most of the time, I still wear my old black shoes if I think there will be any possibility of dancing.
Over time, I have gradually built up a collection of women's shoes to go with my various costumes (and dressing up in girl-clothes feels like dressing in costume to me), but most of them have never seen the light of day. I've been meaning to buy some sexier dance shoes, but with the expense, I just never seem to get around to it, so with this whole closet full of shoes, it's my old black character shoes that I usually choose to wear.
I have 5 favorite pairs of shoes, and just writing that is painful to admit that I have *that many* pairs of shoes, let alone the dozen other pairs that go to specific outfits, most of which I never wear. Out of those 5, 2 of them are my favorites for practical reasons (my sandals and my steel-toe combat boots that I wear at work) and the other 3 are dance shoes. I have a pair of ankle boots that I can't actually remember the reason why I have them, but I never wore them until I started ballroom dancing in college, and then I wore them when I wore pants to class just because I never liked wearing heels with jeans. They sort of resembled jazz boots, which the instructor's husband wore with his jeans and he danced, so I figured I could get away with my own when I didn't feel like wearing heels or a dress. They desperately need to be resoled, and as soon as I find a shoe repair place who understands what "sueding" is, I will get them fixed. At the moment, the holes are covered with gaff tape, which makes them not really suitable for dancing.
The other pair is my Converse ... and yes, those are my dance shoes. The second play I was in required a pair of black high-top Converse as part of the costume, and, again, I spent the next several months dancing in them. Those actually wore out in only a couple of years because I wore them as regular shoes even after the play ended, so my current Converse are not the same pair. But I won't wear any sneaker but Converse because of the comfort and versatility that I never would have known had I not been forced to dance in them. And even though they're not the exact same pair, I never put them on without being reminded, fondly, of the first pair and dancing in them.
And, of course, the final pair is my beloved character shoes. I find it significant that 3 of my 5 favorite pairs of shoes are dance shoes and the other 2 are purely practical. And I have had 18 years to grow attached to these shoes in particular. The inner lining has been peeling for years, but the heel seemed sturdy and the soles were miraculously not worn through, and if I put in an insole, I didn't notice the peeling.
So it is with a great nostalgic sadness that I had to take these shoes off tonight and place them in the garbage. The leather has finally pulled away from the sole all around the ball of the foot and the big toe and it is just impractical to try and repair them.
These shoes have introduced me to one of my greatest loves and this specific pair has shared one of my greatest passions with me for more than half of my life. I will take this opportunity to move forward, to buy a pair of shoes with a taller heel and a sexier line. But my old, black, character shoes, the ones that started it all, will be missed.
Tonight, I lost a beloved ... my very first pair of dance shoes has finally succumbed.
I bought my first pair of character shoes when I was 14. Character shoes are general Mary-Jane-esque shoes with a low, somewhat wide heel and a sole suitable for all kinds of dancing, from tap to jazz to ballroom to latin and are generic enough to be worn by all sorts of female "characters" on stage in a wide range of costume styles and eras. They're the most popular style of dance shoe for their versatility and their rather timeless style. They're not the most attractive, they don't have the most elegant lines, and they are usually worn by novices and the financially challenged. But they're basic, a good all-around dance shoe.
When I was in 7th grade, I decided I would be an actor. My 7th grade drama teacher had me convinced I could go to Juliard for college (ironically, the same teacher who gave me my first taste at entertainment lighting). It took several more years for me to fully realize just how much I sucked on stage. I mean it, I was really terrible. But at that age, I hadn't yet learned that. So when I got to high school and they announced the school was putting on their very first play, I auditioned, and I was awarded the very prestigious role of "Ensemble Cast".
The show was Nunsense, a quirky little play about 4 Carmelite nuns at a religious school who need to raise money to bury a handful of other dead nuns who were currently residing in the cafeteria freezer, and so put on a talent show to raise the funds. I was one of the postulants, nuns in training, if you will, whose job it was to run on stage and be the backup dancers and singers for whatever number was currently being performed. This meant that I was taught a variety of different dance numbers and styles, but the ones I remember best were tap and jazz.
So, the first day of rehearsal, we were sent home with a list of items that we would need to provide for ourselves, among them being a pair of black character shoes, either 1.5" heel or 2" heel. Well, I had no idea what those were, and I certainly had never worn heeled shoes before, outside of stealing my mother's much larger shoes as a kid and trying to walk around in those. So my mother took me to the nearby dance shop, where we were told we could get these mysterious shoes.
I instantly hated them. I hated the rounded toe, I hated the strap, and I most definitely hated the lower 1.5" heel that my mother insisted I wear because "young ladies do not need high heels" (I think she had some vague idea of spike stilletoes or something similar being worn by "certain women" who most certainly would not be her daughter). I didn't like the shoes because they weren't sexy, the way I thought high heeled shoes should be. They looked like little girl shoes, only a little taller.
At the same time, I hated them because I was an avowed tomboy who vastly preferred to wear my sneakers or go barefoot and this nun's dress was the first time anyone could get me into a dress since kindergarten, outside of my various school graduations which required dresses. (yes, at 14, I was already this strange dichotomy who would go to extremes - I either dressed like a boy or, if I was forced to dress like a girl, dammit, I was gonna make an impact and I wanted it to be sexy, not just "pretty").
So, the second day of rehearsal rolls around and I pull out my brand new shoes. I strap them on and take a few practice steps. I didn't fall over, so I must have done something right.
For the next 4 months, I practically lived in those shoes. And I danced. Lord did I dance! I wasn't particularly good at the dancing, being at that awkward gangly stage and having no dance experience of any kind before, but the moment I executed a perfect triple time step before anyone else, I was hooked. I always knew I liked dancing - my parents sent me to a summer day camp one year in elementary school and they taught us some jazzy/hip-hop routines based on the pop artists of the time, like Janet Jackson and Paula Abdul, and I remember really enjoying it. But there was no formal training, just memorizing a routine and my exposure to it vanished at the end of camp, since my parents refused to pay for dance lessons, believing it was a "phase" and they would have wasted their money when I inevitably gave it up in a month or two.
In time, those shoes became one of the most comfortable pair of shoes I own, and they continued on my journey of dance and self-exploration for the next 18 years.
When I took my first ballroom dance class in the fall of 1996, those were the shoes I wore. When I began cross-dressing (wearing dresses in public not for dance reasons), those were the only girl shoes I owned. About 3 years ago, I finally bought a pair of character shoes in tan, just to have something to wear with outfits for which black shoes didn't go (yes, there are some times when black does *not* actually match), but most of the time, I still wear my old black shoes if I think there will be any possibility of dancing.
Over time, I have gradually built up a collection of women's shoes to go with my various costumes (and dressing up in girl-clothes feels like dressing in costume to me), but most of them have never seen the light of day. I've been meaning to buy some sexier dance shoes, but with the expense, I just never seem to get around to it, so with this whole closet full of shoes, it's my old black character shoes that I usually choose to wear.
I have 5 favorite pairs of shoes, and just writing that is painful to admit that I have *that many* pairs of shoes, let alone the dozen other pairs that go to specific outfits, most of which I never wear. Out of those 5, 2 of them are my favorites for practical reasons (my sandals and my steel-toe combat boots that I wear at work) and the other 3 are dance shoes. I have a pair of ankle boots that I can't actually remember the reason why I have them, but I never wore them until I started ballroom dancing in college, and then I wore them when I wore pants to class just because I never liked wearing heels with jeans. They sort of resembled jazz boots, which the instructor's husband wore with his jeans and he danced, so I figured I could get away with my own when I didn't feel like wearing heels or a dress. They desperately need to be resoled, and as soon as I find a shoe repair place who understands what "sueding" is, I will get them fixed. At the moment, the holes are covered with gaff tape, which makes them not really suitable for dancing.
The other pair is my Converse ... and yes, those are my dance shoes. The second play I was in required a pair of black high-top Converse as part of the costume, and, again, I spent the next several months dancing in them. Those actually wore out in only a couple of years because I wore them as regular shoes even after the play ended, so my current Converse are not the same pair. But I won't wear any sneaker but Converse because of the comfort and versatility that I never would have known had I not been forced to dance in them. And even though they're not the exact same pair, I never put them on without being reminded, fondly, of the first pair and dancing in them.
And, of course, the final pair is my beloved character shoes. I find it significant that 3 of my 5 favorite pairs of shoes are dance shoes and the other 2 are purely practical. And I have had 18 years to grow attached to these shoes in particular. The inner lining has been peeling for years, but the heel seemed sturdy and the soles were miraculously not worn through, and if I put in an insole, I didn't notice the peeling.
So it is with a great nostalgic sadness that I had to take these shoes off tonight and place them in the garbage. The leather has finally pulled away from the sole all around the ball of the foot and the big toe and it is just impractical to try and repair them.
These shoes have introduced me to one of my greatest loves and this specific pair has shared one of my greatest passions with me for more than half of my life. I will take this opportunity to move forward, to buy a pair of shoes with a taller heel and a sexier line. But my old, black, character shoes, the ones that started it all, will be missed.
