All She Wants To Do Is, All She Wants To Do Is Dance.
A clip from Lifetime’s horrifying/upsetting new reality show, DANCE MOMS. This, folks, is what LEOTARDED is all about.
My talented friend Eliza Skinner wrote this post a few years back, and I’d be foolish not to share it, due to its helpful clarification on how one becomes leotarded.
EVERYTHING I EVER NEEDED TO KNOW, I LEARNED FROM DANCE MOVIES.
Age: 10
Type of Dance: Prancing & Mincing; Licking At Paws, Wiggling Rump In Order to Simulate Tail Movement
Costume: “Cat”, via a black leotard, headband with home sewn fake fur ears glued on by my Mom, a long piece of marabou feather trim safety pinned on the rear as a tail, and age inappropriate fishnet stockings. Not pictured: black tap shoes. (Full disclosure- This costume was created for a truly gruesome self-choreographed tap dance routine, but went the extra mile for Halloween)
Music: Alley Cat, Lawrence Welk
Click on photo to hear the song on lala.com!
Age: 9
Type of Dance: Passionate Skipping In Praise of Our Great Nation
Costume: “The American Flag” as interpreted with my Mom’s abandoned aerobics leotard, red tights with peek-a-boo cotton crotch and lots of red-white-n-blue grosgrain ribbon accents. Oh, and Saltwater Sandals (in case the tide was up).
Music: Yankee Doodle Dandy (Disco version), Paul Jabara
Click on photo to hear the song on lala.com!
Age: 11
Type of Dance: Improvised jazz dance in backyard before once-a-year Easter church appearance
Costume: New Easter Dress from The May Company, CA
Music: Can You Feel It, The Jacksons
Click photo to hear song on lala.com!
When I was little I wanted to be a dancer more than anything in the world. I took endless classes in tap, ballet and jazz dance. Each year at the annual Dance School recital, I’d look forward to prancing in my newly purchased costumes, resplendent in glitter spray, shiny sequins and Spandex. Each outfit was selected to complement whatever song we happened to be dancing to. And of course, each & every costume needed to be commemorated with a “professional” photograph.
Thanks to my parents, who shelled out the cash for lessons, for shiny unitards and pale pink slippers and lots of frosted blue eye shadow, and, most of all, who were kind enough to fund the accompanying portraits— and to not throw them out in the years that followed my eventual retirement from the dance world.
I’m Brandy. And I was leotarded.
