CHAPTER THREE

The Romance of Dance

You will always reveal what you feel in your heart by what you do in your movement.

—MARTHA GRAHAM

IT’S REALLY HOT INSIDE LE CARREAU DU Temple, despite the fact that the hall is so spacious and the ceiling soars to great heights. We’re almost in October now, and of course there’s no air-conditioning. We’re in Paris, after all. I am generally grateful that the French don’t go in for air-conditioning all that much, because I always seem to be a bit chilled. However, today, I long for that cold. Le Carreau du Temple is a fourteenth-century covered market in the 3rd arrondissement on the Right Bank. I am here at the Salon du Vintage, and the event is really crowded. Ah, so this is where all the Parisians go on a Sunday afternoon in autumn. I struggle to push my way through the crowds and maneuver my way past the endless booths. Along the way, I take note of varieties of clothing: 1920s flapper dresses, beautiful silk chinoiserie, hats, well-worn leather jackets, crepe de chine dresses from the 1940s, and American jeans from the 1970s. Who knew our vintage Levi’s were worth so much!

Elvis is playing on the loudspeaker, beseeching us not to step on his blue suede shoes—really, as if I ever would dare to step on his blue suede shoes! The French men and women surrounding me speak in loud, urgent voices, discussing the virtues of silk versus rayon and why this or that item is overpriced or underpriced or where’s the mirror. I can’t help but register the fact that, contrary to everything I’ve been told up until now, the French can really be loud! I suppose, it’s a matter of what’s worth shouting about and exactly what’s the price for that ’78 record of Cab Calloway singing “Minnie the Moocher.”

Yes, in addition to clothing and accessories, the Salon du Vintage features records and housewares, furniture, cameras, watches, toys, and art. I try on a silk kimono, but it’s too big, and I play with the idea of buying vintage eyeglass frames. But truthfully, I find the crowd and the noise to be a bit daunting, and so I gradually make my way to the exit. This is when I catch the soulful, yearning chords of a violin and concertina playing a 1930s tango melody. I am hypnotically drawn in, and follow the music until I discover the tango duo, Edith and Marcelle. Both Edith and Marcelle are dressed in a tuxedo, except that Marcelle, who has a very short boy-style haircut, wears her tuxedo with the back facing front. There is something so transgressive about this scene, and because of that, it’s very compelling. Edith is very feminine and ladylike, while Marcelle is the quintessential gentleman, except he (or she) is wearing heels and red lipstick and plenty of mascara. Marcelle also has the most adorable dimples and looks a whole lot like the actress Natalie Portman.

And, oh, the dancing. Let’s not forget the dancing. It’s the tango and it’s sensual and romantic and so very graceful and full of emotion. A crowd gathers around Edith and Marcelle as they glide from one end of the room to the other.

I decide to stay at the Salon du Vintage. I decide I must learn the tango. I decide that this is the reason I came to Le Carreau du Temple in the first place. It wasn’t for the vintage clothes. It was for this moment. Something stirs within me, and I decide in that moment that when I return home, my husband and I will sign up for tango lessons. I decide that tango will save our lives and that tango will keep us young and keep our marriage bright and brilliant and full of romance and love and emotion and beauty as we enter our sixties and beyond.

During a break, I learn that Edith is actually Céline, a tango teacher and a theatrical coach. She tells me she believes that tango brings us to a deeper knowledge of ourselves and our relationship with others. Edith is the character she plays as a dancer and burlesque performer:

“I’m a storyteller at heart. I focus on the narrative and the intention behind each gesture, ensuring that each moment works to drive the story forward and gradually reveals the underlying meaning.”

Our bodies tell the stories and secrets that only our hearts and souls truly know.

Marcelle is Chanelle Dumet. She trained as a ballet dancer for twelve years, moved to Paris, began taking tango lessons with Céline, and then fell in love with both tango and her teacher.

When you dance, you are multilingual.

Together they became the dancing duo Edith and Marcelle. They have a devoted following and they perform and teach all over the world.

That’s because dance is a universal language. When you dance, you are multilingual. You are French. You are American. You are Brazilian. You are Hungarian. You are everything.

THANK YOU, MR. PILATES

Yes, there was once a Mr. Pilates. Joseph Hubertus Pilates was born in Germany in 1883. According to his biography, Pilates was a sickly child, and while interning in England during World War I, he struggled to maintain his health and in order to get stronger, he created a system of exercises, which he dubbed “Controllogy.” In 1926, Pilates immigrated to the United States and opened up a studio in New York City, where he taught his technique to dancers from the New York City Ballet, including George Balanchine.

MUSCLE MEMORY

Here I am, stretched out on my floor mat, in my local Pilates class. I reach out for my toes, and this is when I suddenly have a very strong body memory.

I know these exercises.

I know them on a very deep level.

And just as suddenly, I am transported back to my childhood home in Stamford, Connecticut. I am six years old and my mother is teaching a group of neighborhood children in our living room. There are eight of us. We are rehearsing for our spring recital, and so we stand on the stairs, heads up, shoulders back. We place one hand on the banister and the other extended out in a straight line. We slowly walk down one step, then stop, kick out our right legs, then our left legs, and then step down again, all in perfect synchronization.

For many years, I assumed my mother just made up all these little routines and exercises or that she was just recalling what she had learned in her own dance classes and from dancing in vaudeville shows in the late 1920s. She was a tap-dancing star as a child and played in clubs and theaters up and down the east coast. When I was a little girl, she often appeared in community theater or local revues.

But, back to my Pilates class. Here I am, after over fifty years, and I find myself in the same position as I was in my mother’s little dance classes. I am doing the exact same stretches. I have a muscle memory. Before I even make the mental connection, my body senses the familiar movements. My body remembers. And after watching a film about Martha Graham, the mother of modern dance, I realize I grew up studying modern dance and Pilates. I just didn’t know it.

My mother passed away twenty years ago, so I cannot ask her about all this. I wish I could.

I know this: dance belongs to anyone who moves. And we all move, even if it’s limited to a bit of chair yoga. Our bodies hold the music of the soul, and speak in a language that only the heart can read.

WHY BALLET MATTERS

Every French woman you speak to will tell you they studied ballet as a child. It’s their foundation to good posture, walking, and communicating without speaking. This is the secret ingredient to their famous mystery and confidence. They might not all be dancers, but you can bet they all know dance.

Partner dancing is particularly important because, as we all know, dancing leads to romance. All my French friends can do something called “Le Rock,” which is very much like 1950s swing dancing. It’s nice to see that swing dancing is also very popular here in America, and I happen to know a number of women who have found romance on the dance floor, right in their own hometown.

FRANCE IS IN THE AIR

I always fly to Paris on Air France. After all, I’m going to France, and I like to get in the mood as soon as I board my plane. Also, I like to hear everyone speaking French, and, okay, the food is better, too.

Here’s the best part of the Air France flight: the flight safety video. It’s like nothing you’d see on an American flight. First of all, it features five very chic, very pretty girls, wearing red, white, and blue striped Breton shirts and white or red flared dance skirts that twirl and swish as they perform little pantomimes showing how very important it is to wear your safety belt because it will not only “elegantly highlight your waistline,” but also keep you safe. I love the adorable dance performance the girls do to explain how, in the event of an evacuation and the lights going out, you will simply follow the illuminated light down the aisle. Oh, and if you need to find the location of your life jacket, put on your very fashionable nerdy black eyeglasses and read the instructions.

At the finale, the girls take a bow, smile, and wave to us and the theater’s red curtain goes down. Honestly, it made me want to applaud right there in my little airplane seat, and I probably would if it weren’t for the rather haughty-looking gentleman sitting next to me reading Le Monde and frowning slightly.

Here’s what’s truly remarkable about the Air France video—they’ve taken the serious and sober issues surrounding safety and what to do in the event of an emergency and created an adorable and very feminine little bit of theater. And, there is dance, of course, because after all, this is a French airline. There are also costumes, red lipstick, and an homage to fashion and style. The girls all wear ballerina flats—or as the French call them, “ballerinas.” Oh, and the playacting is funny and flirty and incredibly charming.

DANCING AT NINETY

Something magical happened at my dad’s ninetieth birthday party. This was a few years ago when my husband and I were still living on Cape Cod (or Cape du Cod, as I used to call it). My dad was turning ninety years old and we held a party for him where we had lots of guests and food and drinks and, of course, cake. I decided I would invite my Zumba Gold instructor, Kelly, to come and lead a few dances. Kelly and I planned a surprise dance for my dad because he had been a lieutenant commander in the navy during World War II. We chose the Bette Midler version of the famous Andrews Sisters song “Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy” and through a lucky set of circumstances, another friend just happened to have two navy officer jackets—with the stripes and brass buttons, as well as two hats to go with the “gentleman and an officer” look. This was a few years before I found my authentic French navy jacket in Toulouse.

Kelly and I were a big hit and my dad loved the performance, but that’s not what this story is about. It’s about what happened after our little show. Kelly put on some country music and led us in a line dance, and then she played some Edith Piaf, and this is when the magic happened. Everyone—I mean everyone—got up and partner danced. My brother and sister-in-law, my friends, husbands and wives and boyfriends and girlfriends and friends and me and my husband, and my dad and his girlfriend, Beverly, all danced! As I swayed back and forth, my arms around my husband, who I like to refer to as Dr. Thompson, I glanced over at my dad and Beverly. They were holding each other close, gazing into each other’s eyes, and I knew I was witness to a private and powerful moment, and love. True love.

Birthdays aren’t always easy, and a ninetieth birthday can be especially poignant, even difficult. I’m sure Beverly was thinking about this when she held her love in her arms. I’m sure she was grateful for each and every moment they shared. I’m positive that she must have stopped for a moment to grasp the preciousness of this dance.

Then again, knowing Beverly, who is a true no-nonsense Mainer, she’d probably tell me I was being ridiculous. But I know the truth: she was deeply moved, because she was dancing with my father.

Dance is the body connecting to the soul.

That’s what dancing does to you. It stops time, even as you are moving, and it connects you to all the dancers who have come before you and who will continue after you. Dance is the body connecting to the soul. It is laughter and joy, and serious and silly and soulful. Dance is the silent voice of generations communicating with you through music and rhythm and breath.

Okay, and it’s great exercise, too.

HOW ZUMBA SAVED MY LIFE

If you know a little Zumba, you can dance all over the world. Seriously. I’ve danced Zumba in France, in Spain, and even on the little island of Malta. Zumba is a dance/exercise that was created by a Colombian dancer. The combinations include salsa, merengue, cha-cha, Middle Eastern, belly dancing, Greek, African, and even country-western. And that’s just to mention a few, because Zumba is truly international.

At my new home in the Hudson River Valley, I now take Zumba classes with Amy at my local gym. She’s told me that dance makes her more confident and happy and that this confidence makes a difference in all aspects of her life, including the bedroom. Ooh la la!

I also take Zumba Gold classes, for senior citizens. I’m not yet officially a “senior citizen,” but I do love my Zumba Gold classes. I study with Anne-Marie, and she plays songs from my youth—lots of disco and rock ’n’ roll. We’ve cooled down to Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” and Adele’s “Hello.” For a while, we ended classes with Tim McGraw’s song “Humble and Kind.” I love the simple country lyrics written by Lori Mckenna that advise us to “hold the door, say please, say thank you,” and to “shut off the AC and roll the windows down.” Maybe it’s because I actually remember rolling down the car windows. Maybe it’s because I really believe we should say please and thank you. Maybe it’s because despite all my city sophistication and affection for Paris, I am a country girl at heart.

“THIS ISN’T TEATIME!”

So, here I am in a Zumba class in Toulouse with the very energetic and very funny Renata.

She is a slender, very attractive girl with a big smile, white teeth, and long auburn hair. Oh, and she’s wearing a dance top that says NEW YORK BALLET.

Apparently, I’ve kept the class waiting while I ran out to get a drink of water. She asks me in English, what time do I think this is—teatime?! I answer back in French, “Non, c’est le moment pour la danse!” (No, it’s time to dance!) I feel I can joke with Renata because this is my second hour with her, dancing. I began the afternoon with Zumba Gold, and now I am in the regular Zumba class and perhaps I’m feeling a bit giddy and overheated.

And now, she tells the class that she has a song for me, the visitor from far away! In a moment, I am dancing with a dozen other ladies to “America’s Sweetheart” by Elle King. We are kicking up our heels and doing a faux cowboy step and the lyrics catch me by surprise. “Well, they say I’m too loud for this town. . . . What do you want from me? I’m not America’s sweetheart . . . but you love me anyway.”

I am breathless from this dance and this feeling that this French girl can see my American history in my movements and my expressions. I have the most exquisite feeling of discovering a part of myself that I never saw before until I came to this dance class in this foreign city.

Later, Renata tells me about her experience as a dancer and how as a child her parents danced during intermissions at the cinema in Toulouse. She danced with them at a young age, wearing her very first dance shoes, a pair of bright silk blue toe shoes with ribbons crisscrossing up her slender ankles.

She was the smallest student in her dance class. She tells me this funny story of how they were doing a Scottish walk to end the performance. She found herself at the end of the line and got caught in the curtain, just as it was closing, and then got lost in the folds of the curtain.

“I ended up landing on the front of the stage, where everybody burst out laughing. It doesn’t get better than that for a stage experience!”

As we are leaving the culturel centre l’Espace Saint-Cyprien, Renata tells me how she’s very interested in electronic and tribal music and culture. She has learned hip-hop, house, ragga, African, and even robotic dancing. She also practiced cabaret, salsa, tango, and music hall dancing. This was a revelation for the classically trained dancer. She tells me this:

“It would seem that the charm was born the moment when my dance gestures started to express truths, or rather, accompanied with the gestural logic of my emotions, I was telling a story with my body.”

Renata went on to get a master’s degree in performing arts and cinema. She’s also a burlesque artist. She tells me that she has created feuille de séduction, which is literally translated as “a seduction leafing” (the French term for a striptease), as an homage to Charlie Chaplin.

Your body can help you to be yourself more than you already are.

When I ask Renata about what dance means to her in terms of who she is and how she leads her life, she tells me she is guided by the principles of love and giving of oneself, and humility, onstage and in life. And finally, empathy and balance.

Before we say our goodbyes and leave for different metros, she gives me these words of wisdom:

“Be yourself by listening to your senses in each gesture, every action, and its meaning. Just do that by itself without anything else. Your body has something to say to you. Listen to it. Your body can help you to be yourself more than you already are.”

That is the power of dance. And honestly, I will never look at my Zumba classes as mere exercise ever again.

DANCING WITH THE STARS

The French have a long history and love of dancing. And even today, French boys and girls learn partner dance in school. Not only does this make young adults feel comfortable with the opposite sex, but also dancing makes them comfortable in their own skin, not to mention what it does for their posture and carriage. They have convinced me that it honestly does make you seem taller.

Last summer, when I was staying in Paris, I was delighted to find Paris plages (Paris beaches).

The city celebrates the hot summer weather by creating temporary beaches along the banks of the River Seine. Along with the sand and the lounge chairs, the mayor of Paris has added swimming pools suspended over the river, as well as concerts, and a pop-up mini version of the Louvre Museum. Of course, there’s lots of dancing and dance lessons, especially as the sun goes down and the moon appears over the water, and the Eiffel Tower lights up and shimmers in the moonlight, under the brilliant stars.

Parisian Charm School Lesson

This brings me to why here in America we need to retrace our steps and find our way back to our roots (whether in Europe or Asia or South America or any country with a larger sense of history) and rediscover the old-fashioned love of dance. That dance might be the waltz or the tango or the foxtrot, but it is a dance that is about love, not competition.

Whether married or single, consider how you might bring dancing into your life on a regular basis. If you’re in a relationship, put on some music and take your partner’s hand. Dance in the kitchen. Even just a few minutes of impromptu dancing can mix the molecules and transform an ordinary moment into a romantic moment.

Dance everywhere—in the kitchen, at the office, with your husband, with your friends.

Invite the muse of dance into your living room and into your life.

Find opportunities to dance in your very own community. Look up Argentine tango and you’ll find a devoted community throughout the United States—in fact, throughout the world. Attend your local swing dance club. Many women in both France and America have told me how dancing is a great way to meet men.

Consider hosting a party where you clear a dance floor for couples dancing. You don’t have to get dressed in a navy officer costume, but you can put on a pair of dancing shoes and invite the muse of dance into your living room and into your life.

Parisian Charm School Pratique

Begin by dancing at home. Listen to your body and ask yourself what is it trying to tell you.

Listen to music and choose a style that resonates for you on a deep level.

Take a dance class. Begin with just one. See how it makes you feel.

Take your husband or boyfriend or best gal pal by the hand and sway back and forth. Don’t even think about dancing quite yet. Simple close your eyes and listen to the sound of your breath and the beating of your heart.