Saturday, May 09, 2009

Shorty get low

Last weekend, we hit a club in Mayfair for a birthday and some more-atas people watching than the usual high-street fare. Expecting some high-class posing, waiting to catch a glimpse of well-paid escorts, and other general social posturing, all we really saw 'neath the strobe lighting was the throbbing one-ness of about forty people bumping and grinding in time (more or less) to the bass.

The one that thinks she can dance
Always the first one to hit the floor, brave enough to take her martini glass for a good shuffle on the parquet.

The one that doesn't want to dance with the one that thinks she can dance
A moment of clarity hits and/or feeling like a very lonely, bopping muppet, she drags her friend along. Reluctant friend is obliging her dancing friend's shenanigans and hand holding like a drowning man clutches a lead weight.

The one that dances because people are watching
Furtive glances around the crowd, amped up body gyrations when someone looks her way, copying other styles that seem to be getting more attention.

The one that dances only because people are watching
Not wanting to be the wallflower or the alcoholic at the bar. Note the forced smile and the halfhearted attempt to earn social acceptance. On the verge of becoming the one that thinks she's a chicken.

The one that thinks she's a chicken
There's a strange no-man's land between actually dancing and just not dancing. It's like you don't want to put your hands up because that would just make you feel way too self-conscious or maybe you didn't shave. So you dance all elbows and knees, half finished, half arsed, and looking, well, like a chicken.

The one that went for dance classes and is determined to use the moves no matter the music
You don't salsa to R&B the same way you don't pop to big band.

The one that learnt to dance with Paula Abdul
There are some moves that were never brought to the 00's because they belong to the 80's. For example, Paula Abdul's 4 minutes of almost-lucidity on American Idol.


P.S. I'll try not to leave you with a picture of a squirrel before disappearing next time. I apologise.