Ballet Blisters

I’m not really sure how we do this but my cohorts and I seem to be able to get into these innocuous but highly entertaining conversations right after ballet class. One morning found us comparing belly button piercings but I blame dear ballet teacher who was on his thing about “zipping up the abs” again. Today saw us comparing ballet blisters. Apparently one of the girls is having issues on her little toes. Now although no one actually wants blisters there is a sense of “war wound” pride in them. Herein lies the rub. I have never had a blister via ballet. That is, I have never gotten a blister from ballet slippers or pointes in class or any other dance practice. But not to be left out, I realized that I did, in fact, have a ballet blister story. Here it is…

Last year I was in New York for the Alicia Alonso tribute. I had the perfect one shouldered Roberto Rodriguez dress in turquoise and these amazing Miss Sixty five inch strappy heels – amazing, gold, stacked heels, strappy, strappy, strappy loveliness. And I had a killer tan, so I was so ready to rock the turquoise and gold perfection. We were staying at the Carlyle, which is on the east side of Central Park and Lincoln Center is on the west side of Central Park. So we jumped into a cab and after super-fun traffic crossing through the park, we arrived at mecca, I mean, Lincoln Center. I love Lincoln Center. I like the LA Music Center, but I love Lincoln Center, it gives me the happy dancey jumpeys inside – you know, when you get so happy you could just bust a move in public even when you’re best moves are not only embarrassing but could also be considered a public nuisance, yeah, the happy dancey jumpeys! Up the stairs, past the new fountain, to the Met to pick up our tickets. The weather was fabulous and I was excited that we were going to see practically everyone at ABT dance DQ that night! Once inside I made a terrible discovery! My brilliant amazing beautiful Miss Sixty heels had given me a horrible awful red and open blister, the skin from the inside of my right heel was actually stuck to the inside of a heel strap! Stuck like a tawny peel to my beautiful shoe! Had there not been a darkened theatre with ballet and a live orchestra in my very near future, there would have been thrashing and wailing! Instead, there was ballet – Marcelo, Paloma, Herman, Xiomara, Jose Manuel, & Natalia! And I was happy. Then it was over and rather than being able to walk to our post-ballet pizza bash (it’s a NY tradition!) I required a cab. On many occasions, I carry a pair of Corso Como flats in my handbag but on that night I was carrying a insanely adorable and insanely tiny Ferragamo clutch the size of a box of cigarettes, no room for spare shoes. Thankfully one never has to wait long for a cab in New York especially if one is wearing a one shouldered Roberto Rodriguez work of art and sexy sexy strappy Miss Sixty heels even if it is lecherously sucking one foot dry of blood. When I got home, I took those heels right back to Nordstrom and let my favorite shoe department sales rep know that I NEVER return something that I actually used BUT in this case one could not walk five steps from a cab to Marcelo without practically requiring a blood transfusion and plastic surgery! They took them back without hesitation. I found an equally fantastical pair of Via Spiga’s to wear… but since I’ve already taken the turquoise Roberto Rodriguez out and about New York, I figured the Via Spiga’s deserved something special of their own and so the Miss Sixty’s stayed with Marco at Nordstrom and the Via Spiga’s and a Alexander Wang dress came home with me.

And THAT is my ballet blister story.

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