I never thought I’d write a post like this, but I learned long ago not to rule out anything in life. Besides, ever since watching old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies as a kid, I’ve had a thing for tap dancing. I don’t mean those grammar school attempts to make everyone laugh by stomping your feet and flailing your arms around like a windmill, but real tap dancing.
After just two lessons, I’ve confirmed what I knew before I started, which is that it is work. “Tapping,” like anything worthwhile, requires sweat. It also takes commitment, so much so that I almost quit after the first lesson. But it wasn’t because the steps were too complicated. They’re not. They just take countless hours of repetition until your muscles twitch uncontrollably in your sleep.
What was the reason? It reminds me of what Napolean said about how to win a battle. All you need is better artillery than your adversary; in other words, equipment, as in the right equipment.
Enter, stage left, the artillery of tap dancing: tap shoes. Therein lies the rub, literally. Not knowing the first thing about them, I went online and ordered my regular size in street shoes, which is 10.5. I even arrived at that by researching tap shoes on the internet. Apparently, I should have done more research. These shoes were so tight that not only was I in constant pain during the first lesson, but I had to take them off gently, slowly, carefully, which, I think, is a Savage Garden song.
People were surprised by this, since the conventional wisdom among “tappers,” both novices and vets, is that the leather stretches. I listened and nodded politely but knew damn well no amount of stretching was going to make these shoes fit. So, I ordered a size 11 and waited eagerly for the familiar Amazon truck to pull up to the house. But as soon as I opened the box, I had a suspicion that they, too, would not fit. I was right.
Now, here’s the thing. I don’t like buying clothes online. I’ve had bad experiences with size, color, fabric, and how the article of clothing looks on me. You know, because I’m concerned about sprezzatura. But try to find a shoe store that sells tap shoes. I couldn’t. So, I followed the instructions to the letter on the size chart, even matching a brand of street shoes listed on the chart to help people find a comparable fit. For instance, my 10.5 Clark Oxfords corresponded to the 11.5 Capezio tap shoes. Fair enough. I ordered them.
These didn’t fit, either. A guy in class suggested I try a 12. I nodded politely. What I did not realize then but know now is that there is no standard size among shoe brands. Even more frustrating, differences in size exist within the same brand but with different models. So, a Bloch 10.5 in one type of shoe, which is what I had for the first lesson, caused blisters on my feet. But the same size in another model fit perfectly. That last pair arrived just the other day and constitutes my fourth pair of tap shoes. The Amazon guy must think I’m running a dance studio.
There are a few upsides to this story. First, I now have a pair of reliable tap shoes that should last a while and serve me well as I “flap” (ball-change) my way across the dance floor. Second, I have gotten to know the kid at the Whole Foods Amazon return counter. He helped me with the shoe returns, taking pity on me when I told him I didn’t have the app. He also couldn’t get over my iPhone8. Note: I have found great use in the Needy Old Man archetype. People are willing to help you and overlook a multitude of sins if you’re old and crack jokes. I plan on taking him a lawn mower next week.
Finally, tap dancing is yet another counterintuitive thing to do at my age, which, for better or worse, I take pride in. And, let’s face it, there’s nothing like dancing. It’s a lot less risky than boxing, although I still do that. In fact, I am hoping to learn some moves for the ring. Now, that should be interesting.
Image credits: feature by Fabian Schneider; shoes by getdancewear.com. Want more? Go to Robert Brancatelli. The Brancatelli Blog is a member of The Free Media Alliance, which promotes “alternatives to software, culture, and hardware monopolies.”
Share this:
Discover more from The Brancatelli Blog
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
I’d be willing to endure tight shoes and up to three dance lessons of up to 90 minutes in length if I were able to do this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-A6h12Qj9Cc
I’m sure you can apply some tap steps to boxing – Gene Kelly in the ring! There used to be many dance supply stores in the SJ area – have they become extinct??
Footwork in boxing includes “feints,” one of which is a stomp to make your opponent commit in one direction while you clobber him in another…!
Also, there are three dance stores in the area, two within walking (tapping) distance…none sell shoes…! What the–!
As a survivor of more than fifty years of ballet, jazz, modern, contemporary, partnering, AND TAP CLASSES, I will vouch for the difficulty of the art form in the article. Tap Class became part of my retinue after I graduated college. Studying ballet, jazz, etc. as a teenager is one thing. Studying tap, even at only 21, is difficult. I eventually became good enough that if an audition had a tap component, I felt comfortable trying. Succeeding? Like any attempts at professional dancing, that is another story. As evidenced by the video, capability lends itself to a beautiful combination of sound and movement. Nothing like it. No other dance form requires such syncopation with music. I applaud the performers in the video. As we liked to say during the grande allegro of any ballet class, “Damn, that $h!t ain’t easy.” It ain’t.
George, you watched the video…!
Musta clicked on it by accident.