So tonight was my first ballroom dance lesson in our college ballroom which is simply the epitome of class. Since probably my sophomore year in high school I fantasized about doing ballroom dance and here are some reasons why:
1. There is nothing classier than dancing in a ballroom.
2. It's a cultural institution that attracts other classy people. So you know everyone who is there is classy to some extent.
3. It's not a fad that's going to be demode in a few months. It's something our parents did, something their parents did, something their parents did, . . basically it's survived generations because classy never goes out of style. I feel like someone said that once; it should be a new motto. It can be the replacement to "keep calm and carry on" and the other "keep calm and [insert trite phrase here]"s, because quite frankly I'm getting rather tired of hearing that and seeing it plastered on notebooks, wall hangings, shirts, posters, . .
4. Honestly there is no better way to meet and get to know people--classy, respectable people--than to be seven inches away from their face holding onto their arm and learning to waltz, swing, rumba, foxtrot, you name it. There is really no way to be antisocial when you're dancing with someone else.
5. It's basically a life skill. Any guy who knows even the basics of ballroom dance automatically wins ten thousand points in my book. That's a lot of points.
So there you have it, five fantastic reasons why I had fantasized about effortlessly twirling and gliding through a ballroom doing these classy dances.
Now here's where Rosemary Clooney comes into the picture. Her version of "Sway" is basically my idea of ballroom dancing. It's one of my favorite songs and I simply could not get it out of my head all night. Perhaps because it's so playful and fun in a nostalgically vintage way that lets me leave the present and escape into an ethereal world of refined beauty and class.
So basically it was just a wonderful night and I never expected to love it nearly as much as I did. Half of me was dying to do it, and the other half was dreading that it would be like a middle school dance during the slow songs, when awkward preteen boys would clumsily place their clammy hands on a girl's hips and she would carefully put her hands on his shoulders, and they would stand a safe, comfortable distance from one another as they swayed robotically and stiffly from side to side, pretending to enjoy themselves. I never subjected myself to such painful mortification at such a tender age.
But fortunately, since we're in college and for most the middle school years are far behind us, it was fun. I wasn't worrying about what I looked like (which in case you were wondering, was completely ridiculous: a Notre Dame sweatshirt, some black leggings I sort of rolled up, a random pair of socks, neon coral colored sport shorts, my hair smashed in a still-damp bun, and my trusty old glasses, as usual), what to say, if I would be awkward about it, if my partner would be--we just had a fantastically fun time.
So here is my challenge to you: go out and do something cool. Or go out and do something uncool, it really doesn't matter. Find some new activity that you've had a burning passion to try, something that you've hesitated to try, something that tickles your little fancy. And then jump right on it and go for it. And don't bring a friend--go by yourself and don't let yourself be limited to your comfort zone.
And remember: classy never goes out of style.
cheers,
m
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