A Real Belly Dancer Wears Heels

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Showtime!

El ReyIt had been a couple of weeks since the audition and a few of us had a scheduled performance at one of the downtown theaters.  I think there were about eight of us scheduled to dance solo’s that night.  The only difference between me and the other dancer’s performing was that although we all came from the same studio, most of them had not been at the audition.  I wonder if they had heard about the audition incident?  I certainly was not going to mention it.  Hell, for now, I was ready to dance!  I had choreographed a number with splits and floor work included.

There was a rumor that there was going to be a large crowd for the event and that we were suppose to be a paid.  Along with the dancer’s, there would also be performances by musician’s as well.  I had no idea what I would be paid.  There were several of us dancing. Admission to the show was seven dollars.  I was wondering how much all of us could make?  There was a rental fee, the musicians and DJ had to be paid as well.  There were also several high quality flyers that were passed out. However, I was not too worried about it since I was not in charge.  The thought that I could possibly take twenty dollars home for my first paid gig was thrilling.

I came to the event in a partial hand-made costume that M had made for me.  The bra and belt had been purchase previously at a dance workshop. M had sewed me a new skirt from material I had purchased at Hobby Lobby.  It had sparkly silver stars spun over shiny black over-lay.  She also made me a pair of black arm bands from tightly woven curtain spun material. Underneath, I had a pair of sheer black harem pants.  In the early days of my dancing I wore bindi’s. Why?  I have no idea except that I saw other dancer’s wearing them and idiotically thought it was part of middle eastern culture.  I wasn’t aware of the Bollywood slash Arabic fusion style that had become popular.  I just thought the bindi’s covered my forehead nicely and made me feel pretty.

I came to the venue in my costume.  As a dancer of less than six months, no one had ever told me how unprofessional it was to come to a show, of any kind, already dressed.  I learned much later that the best thing to do is get dressed in a room at the venue or if you absolutely have to come dressed, you should wear a cover-up also.  At the time it didn’t care.  I was gallivanting around in my costume, downtown, for everyone to see.  Believe me, I wanted to be seen.  As I arrived at the theater I walked through the front doors with my boyfriend.  “Can I see your ID miss?” asked the bouncer.  “I’m a performer here.” I said.  “Well, I still need your ID.” he responded.  I had to walk back to my car, in full costume, to get my ID that I had left in the glove compartment.  I returned with my ID “Here it is.”  I told him. “Wow, you really look young for your age.”  he said.  “Thanks!” I replied with a huge grin on my face.

I was at the venue one hour before show time.  I walked around to see if I could find any of the other performer’s.  I found my teacher who greeted me with a big hug and sent me to the building next door where the other dancers were.  I walked upstairs to find them.  There they were stretching, shimming and practicing their movements for the stage.  Now, I’m a performer, but I am also an introvert.  I didn’t want to practice backstage or stretch.  So, I do what I always do; I practiced in my head.  The song was “Ice Queen” performed by Dinletir from the first Belly dance SuperStars CD.  In my mind I saw myself performing flawlessly.  I was ready.

The crowd gathered up fairly quickly and the show was about to start.  I had a few friends and family members in attendance.  I could see some of their faces from the side of the stage.  While I was waiting for my turn to perform, I watched the other dancer’s.  I also noticed the stage floor.  There were several extension cords, amps and other items that could easily trip me or another performer.  “I better watch out.” I thought to myself.

My turn came abruptly as soon as the performer before me left the stage.  My music was on, loud and full of bass.  It was at this part of my dance journey that I was unaware of entrances and exits.  I always used to start my dancing on the first measure of music.  I had to rush out quickly to match my movements with the music.  I felt good.  The crowd loved me!  When I slide into my splits there was a loud applause that echoed through the building.  I finished dancing to my song, exited the stage and felt tremendously happy with my performance.

I composed myself backstage and then went to join my friends and family for the rest of the show.  The adrenaline wore of and I yelled, “Son of a bitch, I pulled my damn hamstring!” My best friend was there  and asked “Are you ok?”  “The splits. I hurt myself when I did the splits.”  I whined.   When everyone was backstage practicing and stretching, I should have been stretching too, but no I was practicing my performance in my head.  I slumped over the rail I was next to and watched the rest of the show.  I was interested in watching my teacher, the final dancer, dance.  The crowd loved her and there was a loud thunderous clap when she spun in her “Turkish Drop.” A Turkish Drop is a few full turning spins with a dramatic drop to the floor, sliding down on your knees and landing on your back.  It was amazing.

I left the show a bit early, limping to my car.  The next day I stayed home, unable to walk comfortably, and watched Wishmaster 3.  As I rested on the futon, one thing keep going through my mind, ” I’m going to learn how to do a Turkish Drop.”

Oh, and I never got paid.

Audition!

Samia PinkI had been taking dance classes from my new teacher for about two months when she announced that an audition would be coming up.  A musician was looking for a couple of dancer’s for a venue at one of the local casinos.  I was very nervous and unprepared.  As a dancer I needed to know what the music sounded like and how to prepare a simple choreography to that music.  I wasn’t trained yet to dance to anything that was non-choreographed, much less live music.  However, I wanted to audition.  I figured it would be a good experience whether or not I got the gig.

I didn’t have a professional costume at the time.  This was a great opportunity to purchase my first professional costume.  I met with a local vendor that had a shop inside his home. There were so many pretty and very expensive costumes. Everything I loved was over my budget of $300 dollars.  I would soon learn the name Eman Zaki, a designer, whose designs were beautiful but expensive.  I tried on several costumes, none of which I could afford, even though I was told I would be getting a deal since the owner was good friends with my teacher.  I said, “Here is the thing, I only have $300 with me.”  He took out some costumes which looked very similar to the”Desert Swirl Brand.”  The Desert Swirl brand is known as an inexpensive alternative for dancer’s on a budget. They were not as heavily beaded or filled with crystals but it was in my budget and it was a beautiful hot pink color.  He said, “These are not professional costumes, but you might like them.”  As many dancer’s know, there are very few times when we try on a costume and it fits perfect. The skirt was about 5 inches too long for my 5 foot 2 inch frame.  It was also a little loose for my hips.  I would need to speed more money on a seamstress to add elastic at the hips and hem it from the bottom. “I’ll give you $250 for it.” I offered.  “Well, for you I will let you have it for $250, you will have to check the room for any accessories that go with it.” He said happily. “Thank you.” I replied, ” I can’t wait to wear it!”

The audition was a week away, I found a seamstress who would fix my costume.  In the meantime, I needed things I rarely purchase like make-up and hair products.  I also needed a mani-pedi and a eye-brow waxing.  In the process would also practice putting on stage make-up.  The word stage make-up just feels wrong.  It reminded me of Drama Club in high school and how much foundation I would have to wear when I played the Wicked Witch of The West.  BLEH!

I never learned how to put on everyday or evening make-up correctly but M was a pro.  She is one of those girls with perfect hair, perfect make-up, laced with the newest Dooney and Burke purse.  Everything opposite of the Sketchers and Old Navy Jeans girl that I am.  “Close you eyes Reina and don’t squint, relax.” M said, “I am relaxing. Please don’t put too much on my face.” I said like a child getting her hair brushed too hard. “Remember, you put on the liquid liner after the false eyelashes.” M repeated, making sure I was paying attention. “I know this.” I said. “Ok, look in the mirror.” M said both excitedly and relieved. “My God M, I look like a whore!  I don’t look like me!” “You are so weird,  you look pretty.” said M, ” You are just not used to wearing it.” M tried to assure me.  “I can’t do this, I look ten years older.”  I said. “No, you look fine. You don’t look like a high school student anymore.” M laughed.  “I am washing this off. I’ll just figure out how to put my own make-up next week.” I said as I ventured off to the bathroom.

A week passed ,and my make-up finally washed off (who knew that you really had to buy make-up remover?) It was time for the real thing.  I put on some red lipstick, a little eye shadow, false eyelashes and was ready to go. Luckily, I have naturally rosy cheeks so I don’t buy blush. I put my costume on;my seamstress did a great job and I felt good.  I felt good about auditioning.

I drove to the studio where the audition was being held.  There were already about eight dancer’s there, all from the same studio.  The musician walked in and we all greeted him.  I didn’t have any special props with me, in fact I wasn’t at the stage where I was using props at all.  It didn’t matter, I don’t think he was looking for the best dancer – he was looking for lovely ladies.  Why the hell not; doesn’t every musician want a hot girl near him?  We danced in two by two in front of him, it wasn’t that big of a deal, I was fairly happy with my performance.  When we finished dancing he thank all of us and left.  I had overheard him talk with my teacher about which two girls he wanted.  I was a little hurt that I was not one of those girls. ” Oh well”, I thought,” not too big of a deal, something eventually something will come up again”.   All of  the girls meet up afterwards for drinks.  It was a fun time and everyone seemed happy.  However, that was not the case.

I went back to the studio and found that the classes were empty.  Then the news came quickly that the studio would close in a month unless business picked up.  “What?” ” Why?”  “What am I going to do now?” I thought.  It turns out that after the audition, some of the girls had felt as though they were not being judged solely on their dancing but on their beauty, body and complained that the audition was more of a “Meat-Market” then anything else.  I thought about the dancer’s who had been chosen.  They were beautiful, perfect hour-shaped glass figures, but they could dance. Hell, I would have picked the same two if I had been him.  I wasn’t sure what to say to my teacher, except “Well, in the business you must have a thick skin.”

I am so happy that I have a small amount of thick skin, I needed it to continue dancing.  As for those other dancer’s, who did not make the audition, I haven’t heard from them since.