Dirty Dancing

We never do demi-plié at the barre in Smirnoff’s class.
No Sir/Ma’am.
I like to think it’s because Smirnoff ain’t got no kinda time for no half-way plié.
Class starts with an, “All right, let’s get to work now, it is time to work”
Which is when we untangle from our stretches, pick our spot at the barre and stand with our left hand resting lightly (the gripping comes later), feet in first position, right arm in preparatory with a relaxed hand, faces and focus turned to our teacher.
There is a pause while he looks us over and checks in with a few pre-corrections for chronic offenders: tuck in thumb, too serious!, pull in tummy, and for me: raise chin.
Then he presses play on his boom box and we head straight into the grande pliés, four counts down, four up.
Slow.
Each position.
And then Bam! The single count grande pliés in fifth! One count down, one count up, with the arm following the same port de bras as before, swooping down from the side then up and out and down again, fast, looking for all the world like I am up in the club, droppin’ it like it’s hot, spankin’ it, aw yeah.
I am always having to fight down a massive stupid grin during the fast grand pliés.
It is so wrong!

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