Dance recital madness! From way back.

A few weeks ago we had the pleasure of attending Grace's dance recital. She had a great time, the dancing was fun to watch, and the various preparations and costume changes went smoothly.

There were a few numbers that made me feel a bit like an anthropologist observing a culturally important event of some distant tribe. (More and more, I get this feeling, and I'm not sure what to make of it. I suppose I need to expand my horizons, although generally I enjoy watching unfamiliar rituals play out.) One such number involved Tori Amos's version of "Home on the Range" which is haunting and lovely, and the dancing was skilled and well-choreographed, but the costumes... on the bottom half of the dancer, a long calico-looking skirt, as Laura Ingalls surely wore, and on top... a calico running bra. Or very brief halter top. So - long skirt, bare midriff, and the prop was a no-doubt authentic section of a split rail fence.

The costumes generally were more revealing than you'd think was strictly necessary, and I realized that there's actually a rubric: some costumes flatter most bodies, some costumes flatter few bodies, but no costume flatters all bodies, and (surprisingly) no costume flatters no bodies. So if you had an absolutely perfect dancer's figure, you'd look great all the time; if you had any other kind of body, as most human beings do, it was a total crapshoot as to whether you'd look basically ok or like someone forced to wear a horrifyingly unflattering outfit. There are limits to what can be done about this, given the costumes' functions (to let the dancers' bodies show, to permit a wide range of movement, to enhance the mood of the piece) but damn. Maybe I'm projecting and need to rethink what your average girl would consider a flattering fit, or be comfortable with onstage, but I wished that there were some way to make it good for everyone - like those thoughtful and gracious brides who give their bridesmaids some general guidelines (color, length) and let them pick out their own dresses, so that each individual bridesmaid looks good but there's still a sense of general harmony. (This is more observation than personal experience, since I've always felt fine in bridesmaids' dresses, but you know what I mean.)

Anyway, Grace has spent the intervening weeks spontaniously breaking out into her dance routine at random moments - standing in line, hiking, watching TV, at the beach - and I need to sign her up for next year's classes while I can still choose the day and time. We're thinking Peter might enjoy martial arts in the fall, so the timing becomes more important - juggling multiple obligations on one evening for months at a time is Not So Good, but with a bit of planning we should be able to give it a go.