It appears that, for the first time in my life, I have a hobby. In the sense that for the first time in my life I have an activity I'm willing to burn time, money, and fossil fuels in order to learn to do it better, for the sincere enjoyment of it. This is an activity that has little practical application in the rest of my life. I will never do it professionally, and yet I have a strong and specific desire for improvement in regard to it.
What is it that makes tango so addictive? I think, for one thing, tango just f e e l s really, really good. When you're doing it right, you get a delicious stretch through your back muscles, like that first-stretch-of-the-morning kind of stretch. In fact, tango seems to share (inadvertently) a lot with practices like yoga and tai chi -- at least to my rudimentary understanding. Like yoga, every movement in tango is counterbalanced by a movement in the opposite direction: at once upward and lifted, downward and grounded. Like tai chi, it hinges on balance and the transferrence of energy from one part of the body to another, or even between one body and another. It seems only fitting that the Latino-Parisian version of these activities -- intended to wholly experience ourselves mentally, spiritually and physically -- requires both a man and a woman.
For another thing, consider the shoes. This is the only dance -- nay, human activity -- that can actually be performed better in four-inch heels. Seriously. We're talking about the kind of shoes that Sarah Jessica Parker would give her skinny little right arm for, okay? Hand-made in Buenos Aires (probably by tiny hands, but I'd prefer to think by a tragic tanguera injured in some dramatic dancefloor incident who personally sniffs every shoe for optimal performance), these babies have leather souls. Not long ago, this dancin' fool and her money narrowly escaped being parted, the objet de désir being a pair of ballet-slipper-pink and silver spectator shoes with a rhinestone buckle and chrome (yes, chrome!) stiletto heels. The neighbs tore me away the moment he saw I showed promising signs of coming to my senses. Alas.
But I think what I love most about tango is the way it engages my mind as much as my body. Sorry to disappoint all the ballroom fans out there with their five-step pattern (T! A! N-G-O!), but social Argentine tango has no basic step. You could go in any direction at any time, or go nowhere at all for several consecutive beats. This means that leaders have to demonstrate superior navigational skills on the dancefloor and communicate unwavering intentionality to their followers. In turn, followers have to be constantly attentive and receptive, never anticipating what might be asked of them, but ready to go wherever, whenever. In return for this submissiveness, the leader creates opportunities for his follower to show her creativity by embellishing and occasionally taking as long as she damn well pleases to execute what he's asking her to do.
If I were to describe swing-dancing in one word, it would be "flirtation". Salsa might be "sex", but tango, without a doubt, would be "love". Each partner must be perpetually on his/her own two feet, so that if the other stepped away s/he would still be standing, but in order to go anywhere the communication between them must be absolute, and both parties must listen intently to one another. Even though it's touted as an extremely sexy dance, even at its most aggressive or dramatic, there's a tenderness and restraint to tango that doesn't exist in other dances.
So there you have it. Wanna dance yet?
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