Two studios, one labeled Pavlova, the other Petipa. Our class was held in Petipa. Our bags had gotten lost by the ever-competent airlines, so I had to borrow a mismatch pair of old shoes from the used shoes bin. The instructor, Vera, was Russian-trained. She had the familiar balance of flow and precision. At Symmetry, I'd been taught to prepare rond-de-jambe combination in a very particular way: allonge, plie, tendu, to second. I smiled as I saw the girl in front of me preparing in this same way. The center work was difficult. I kept an eye on the semi-pro dancer who looked like she belonged on top of a fancy, triple-tiered cake, frosted pink and white from head to toe. Each time Vera wanted to make a point, she used this cake fairy to demonstrate. It was this class that made me realize that Kip almost always demonstrates himself and goes around the room correcting the people who need to be corrected, not the ones who are already doing it correctly. It was also in this class that I first heard ballet combinations given out in that dreaded sing-song voice.
Ba-yam-ba-yam-ba-yam-bam-bam-ba-yam!
Shudder.
