Okay, let’s play “why do Cathy’s inner thighs hurt like a mofo today?!”
a. She got that Suzanne Sommers leg squeezer mcgee thing
b. Loooooots of sex (haha jkjk, I’d have to have a life for that!)
c. Lay backs.
Great job, you guess it–I bought a Thigh Master!
Joking. I popped my lay back cherry!!!
Here’s what pisses me off about pole dancing: IT LOOKS TOO DAMNED EASY. I’ve seen laybacks and deathlays and inverts and always been like, yeah whatever, haven’t gotten to that yet, NBD.
Correction: such a big deal. I had no idea.
Let’s clear something up. When you see a girl flip upside down while holding the pole with her legs, this is what’s happening: she’s supporting her full body weight with what’s essentially the worst indian burn of her life.
One of my favorite YouTubers, Dirdy Birdy, demonstrates a layback.
Until a callus develops. So everyone says, in a reassuring manner. I feel weird looking forward to that because it sounds gross.
You guys, my thighs are both aching and burning right now. I don’t know whether to do ice, or Bengay, or just antigonize the blister on my wrist a little to confuse my nerves and makes my legs stop hurting.
And here’s the worst part: ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS PRACTICING LAYBACKS.
That’s pole, folks. Anybody who’s ever fallen madly in love with it can attest to this. This is why we’re walking around bruised up, pole-burned, and with half the skin rubbed off of our wrists. Because we’re dumb, and obsessed, and we ignore the pain. We love it that much. (Wow, this sounds a little like an abusive relationship, huh? Oh well.)
I kinda wish I had taken more pictures of how badly I beat myself up last fall when I was just starting out. But for now, let me start putting together a montage of minor injuries from the few that I have… to be continued!
PS. Remember to come to a class this Saturday! I’m teaching Intro and Spins–here’s the schedule.
Crossover alert! Sheila Kelley loved playing a stripper for “Dancing at the Blue Iguana” so much, she became an instructor and opened a studio (the infamous S Factor!)
There are two kinds of pole dancers: strippers and civilians.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
But my managers always has me keep an eye out for the professionals.
Don’t get me wrong–I have nothing but love for strippers. This isn’t about singling anybody out. It’s a topic of concern, at least for me as a teacher, because girls with backgrounds in exotic dance tend to need a different kind of instruction.
I’m pretty sure a woman in my class last weekend was a non-civilian, for a variety of reasons. For one thing, girl could move–but she couldn’t take instruction. She could do just about anything I asked if I stood next to her and performed it, but as soon as she tried to follow verbal instructions with the group, she was lost.
This makes perfect sense once you consider the competitive learning environment that is a strip club. If you like that reverse back hook spin you’re seeing, you’ve got to copy what you see; nobody’s going to give away their best moves to other girls. Your only feedback for whether it’s working is cheers and tip money.
Trouble is, when you learn by copying–be it at the strip club or on YouTube–you’re usually not learning the safest, smoothest, most efficient ways of performing moves.
This occurred to me while I was watching a Netflix DVD last night that was clearly made by a stripper.
Let me back up.
I’ve been getting kind of bored with the routines I teach in classes, so I took advantage of Netflix’s very limited dance selection and rented a striptease-oriented “Pole Work” video.
I was hoping to pick up a few new floor moves, transitions, or maybe some spin variations to play with, but, as I watched the video, my real education was in the vast differences between how pole instructors teach and dance, and how strippers teach and dance.
(First, how I knew they were strippers: the teacher, Fawnia, had a series of “Miss Nude” titles listed as her dance credits, and the video was made in a shoe store. Okay, so that last bit is judgmental, but… telling. Also, they kept referencing “your show.” As in, “This is something extra sexy you can do for your show.” Unless they’re assuming the DVD is good enough to get a beginner into a pole competition, we’re talking about a very specific kind of show.)
Here are a few points of contention (between what I was seeing and how I teach) that bugged me:
1. Strippers tend to stick to their dominant sides
This is probably a symptom of copy-cat learning: doing every spin on your right side (usually–unless you’re a lefty). But it’s dangerous! You don’t want the kind of muscle imbalances or injury from overuse that this encourages. I know things look better on your right side now, but trust me… you need to use both. Instructors know this, and teach both sides accordingly. Strippers on the other hand just need it to look good, fast.
2. Flash is more important than form
If sex appeal is your main concern, accuracy doesn’t matter.
As the woman in the video demonstrated moves, she’d do them slightly differently each time–sometimes swinging her arms during spins, lifting her feet at different moments, hooking the pole at varying heights.
I couldn’t help but wonder if all the changes meant she didn’t understand know how she was executing the moves–she was just doing them. She also didn’t explain the mechanics of spinning, or how the momentum works, I suspect because she didn’t know herself.
3. Aesthetics are different
It’s a personal preference, but everybody’s got a different style in mind when they imagine themselves pole dancing. Tiny changes, like the distance your legs are apart when you do a backslide, can tip a dance into raunch-ville.
I certainly love a slinky, seamless dance, myself. But it’s the effortlessness and the composure I’m shooting for over sex appeal. If you’re learning from exotic dancers, it’s pretty likely your stances are all going to be… different.
That said, there are things strippers POWN at. Flexibility, for one–strippers are the kind of pole dancers who find a way to end every move in a split. Because it looks awesome.
And eye contact–as Fawnia herself says in the video, if you’re unsure of something you’re doing, just lock eyes with an audience member. It’s incredibly convincing. Jedi mind tricks–strippers can haz them.
Finally, improvisation. Strippers often don’t have routines when they take the stage. In fact, many of them are in the process of learning when they get out there every night. But they keep moving.
That’s a huge advantage that exotic dancers have over everyone else: they never stop, and their in-between moves are just as hot as the main events.
So that’s my two cents. Have you ever learned moves from strippers? If so, what?
I remember being completely blown away by a girl at the only strip club I’ve ever visited. She was blasting through ballroom turns like nobody’s business, six or seven in a row. And of course, in the highest heels I’ve ever seen. Mad skills.
Don’t forget–I’m teaching tonight! There’s a pole choreo class at 7pm and a Spins class at 8pm. Hope to see you there!
“A personal project like anyone else’s personal project. Mine’s just a little more… personal, I guess.”
Wouldn’t it be funny if you were dancing in front of James Spader, and he kept exactly that expression on his face the whole time?
Mmm, James Spader. But that’s not what this post is about.
This post is about videotaping.
And the lies we tell ourselves about how sexy we look.
(See what I did there?!!)
Concern for my sex appeal wasn’t the reason I started taping my dances. Actually, it was pure, primal fear of getting fired.
I’ma keep it real: when I’m training, I usually stop 5 or 6 times per song to curse, make faces at myself in the mirror, and instant-replay anything I screw up. I also take regular breaks during a song to booty pop at random, scratch, and think about life while languidly drinking water.
This is not acceptable during classes.
(Apparently).
(Educated guess).
Anyway, this a problem! Because a huge part of all of my classes is the “review” portion, where students monkey-see monkey-do their way through a continuous, full length routine… and I’m the one leading.
It’s hard enough remembering which moves to do (only those from that week’s curriculum) and which sides I’ve done them on (left and right need equal practice!) without stopping to think. But then there’s the whole “talking everyone through the routine as I physically do it” aspect. IT’S RILLY RILLY HARD, YOU GUYS.
I figured I better scare myself straight on the stopping thing, so I got a tripod to videotape my dances with. Just to mind-fuck myself a little. I wasn’t really planning on watching myself.
But watch myself I did.
Friends, here’s what I couldn’t unsee:
-Confused, bored-looking facial expressions (I think they were meant to be sexy?)
-Speeding up my walk right before I attempt a trick (so much for the element of surprise)
-Walking exactly three steps right, then three steps left before every trick (yawn.)
-And best of all, for every one handed spin, I saw myself balling my free hand into a fist and scrunching it against my chest while spinning.
HAWT. I don’t know about you, but I find nothing more aesthetically pleasing than a dancer who looks sleepy and developmentally challenged.
The good news: taping yourself, as painful as it may be, can be huge helpful for diagnosing (and treating) the following problem areas that make for a lumpy, awkward, DEFINITIVELY UNSEXY PERFORMANCE.
You can do better, children. So be brave and tape yourself! I guarantee that after you stop crying, the following areas will improve:
1. Spotting and eye contact
It’s easy to forget while you’re in the studio, but your dance should be directed at someone. Aiming your performance–even at a camera–should remind you to flirt, angle your body toward, and spot your spins on an audience. Or one person. You minx, you.
2. Flair
No, we’re not talking about the pins in Office Space. “Flair” in pole dance is that je ne sais quoi that lets the audience know you’re conscious while dancing. Hair flips, hip swings, touching the pole, running your hands along your body; all of these little moves go a long way toward a hypnotic performance.
3. Form
You know how you hear “point your toes!” in class all the damn time? Now you’ll see why–IT LOOKS GAWD AWFUL WHEN YOU DON’T. While you’re at it, arch your back too, and stop looking at your shoes.
4. Flow
Are you a pole noob? I guarantee that this is what your dancing looks like: 1. walking around the pole excruciatingly slowly 2. triumphantly blasting through two or three spins 3. freezing 4. walking around the pole excruciatingly slowly 5. repeating the sequence from step 2.
Then comes the best part: realizing you’ve used a mere 32 seconds of a four minute song.
If nothing teaches you to pace yourself while dancing, the agony of watching yourself do this on tape will.
5. Cheating
Oh, you thought I wouldn’t notice, did you? You thought you could just hop a little to get higher on the pole and sneak in a little more spin time. NBD, amirite?
WRONG.
Watch it on tape–a little “jump” completely breaks your flow, and is the angel of death to your spin momentum. Watch it and weep, cheater: you fool NO ONE.
So talk to me. Do you hate watching yourself on video? Do you keep the really embarrassing stuff to learn from, or delete it right after?
My proudest video moment: I caught it on video that time I was doing an extended sitting spin and whacked my foot on a bookshelf. I of course stopped the video and saved it immediately.
Speaking of dance vids, if I get brave enough, I’m thinking of posting a few tutorial vids in the near future. So if you’ve got any form or technique questions, or specific tricks or spins you’d like me to cover, let me know!
Meanwhile… U mad cause you don’t have a video camera? Want me to pick on your bad habits for you? Come to a class, yo!
Who would you kill to learn from? Because I would stab a kitten to train with Leigh Ann Orsi.
But back to the task at hand: I taught my first private lesson! So. Much. Fun.
It’s probably the control freak in me, but I love being able to work with a person for as long as they need, at their pace, and with all the corrections necessary as we go.
Group classes are great–there’s tons going on, the music is loud and the energy is high, and you always know what’s up next.
But with all that breakneck speed and “energy,” there’s always at least one person that gets left behind.
I hate that.
Usually, you just have to look the other way as people circle the pole with straight legs like a stripper-Frankenstein, or flop their weight around like a sea lion. (Mixing monster and nautical metaphors–LIKE A BOSS).
Unfortunately, many will form habits in their first class that they never quite shake.
(My inner perfectionist is twitching).
But regardless of who’s lagging behind, class has to go on–you can’t press the pause button on class time to reset everyone’s body positioning.
My student today was totally green, and we spent at least 40 minutes of the hour working on fall out and arounds. It was so great to be able to get every single part of her body placed correctly and moving properly. She might have learned only one spin in her first hour dancing, but she can walk beautifully, she knows how to leverage her weight for momentum, and she falls with control.
Even simple moves like a spin-in back bend look fantastic, because she’s aware of her shoulders, her hips, her toes–her whole body, not just the part that’s the focal point.
So which is for you–private or group lessons?
Depends on your experience taking dance cues and your goals.
Have you taken dance classes before? Are you hoping for a quick sampling of a lot of different moves? You’ll likely cover more ground in a group class. You might not learn great form, but you’ll come away with a several basic moves in your back pocket. If you have a pole to practice on at home, and/or if you’re in it for the long haul (as in, you’ll have 10 more classes to iron out your posture issues), group classes can give you a lot of fun raw material to work with.
Are you totally new to dance? Have any special considerations, like an injury, or a special goal? (like training to dance professionally, or preparing a sexy routine for an SO?) A one-on-one is probably the most efficient way to go. You can talk over your goals through with your instructor and tailor your lesson so that every minute of your time is spent on what you want to be learning.
On that note, I should say that my student today will be performing as a go-go dancer at a club. It’s important for her to look great doing whatever she does on the pole, or around it, because tip money depends on great posture, confidence, and sex appeal throughout a dance.
In other cases, people just want to learn a few tricks to play with, and that’s totally fine.
But if you want to look amazing in a short period of time–especially while just doing simple moves–there’s no substitute for a private lessons. Preferably with a form nazi (ahem).
I recently got a request from a friend of mine asking for a crash course in pole.
She was having a pole-mergency, so to speak.
The request was pole-urgent.
Okay, I’ll stop.
It’s funny, there aren’t many situations in life where you desperately need to learn to dance on a pole in 5 days or less. But when you’re in one, nothing could be more important.
My friend, I should note, is a go-go dancer. She’s starting work at a new club on Saturday, and there will be poles. She wants to learn some tricks, she tells me, so she doesn’t look stupid. She’s hoping to learn a few flashy dance moves and spins.
As I suppress my urge to laugh maniacally (Sure, you’ll be doing spins and tricks by FRIDAY, lol problem bro?) I simultaneously take a walk down memory lane, to back when I started pole dancing, and my expectations were equally delusional.
You see, I’ve really only been dancing for about 8 months. The memories of starting out are quite vivid, because very recently, I was a pole-virgin. Okay I’m really stopping now.
For me, the most memorable part of the 3-4 months of misery that was learning pole the first time, was not just the skin peeling off my wrists, or the throbbing shoulder joints, or legs that were more black and blue than flesh colored… it was the sheer frustration of just not looking good on the pole.
For all you hater-ade drinkers out there, get some respect for strippers, because looking sexy on a pole is tough. Like, seriously tough. We’re talking mentally on par with learning the instruments in a cockpit, or geometry proofs, or playing a 5 piece drum kit, with both feet and hands working simultaneously. And that’s just the coordination part.
It doesn’t cover the physical challenges of balancing in 6-inch heels, supporting your full body weight with your arms and the strength of your grip, or holding your legs up, in aesthetically pleasing shapes, while spinning in circles.
Once you start learning little rules here and there, yes, it does get easier. Pointing your toes and arching your back–yes, that’s always going to be a good idea.
But for the first couple of months–more, depending on how often you get lessons and practice–you’re going to look like an awkward giraffe. I’m sorry, that’s just how it is. You’re not going to know what the hell to do with yourself, and by god, it will show.
They say with writing that you need to compose 10,000 words of utter crap before you write anything interesting, and friends, it’s no different with dancing. You will need to stumble, fall on your ass, and accidentally get too far from the pole (and end up holding it like you’re on the subway), all before you can look good.
But in the mean time, here are a few shortcuts you can use to look slightly competent. I intend to teach these to my friend, but honestly, they work for all levels.
In no particular order, try this shit!
1. Take your damn time
Nervous? Immediately do everything at half speed. I promise you, it feels like slow motion, but you’re moving much quicker than you think you are. This helps for two reasons: it forces you to engage with the moment (mmm, that steel feels sooooo smooth–say that to yourself in a porny voice in your head, I swear, it helps), the whole thing will look much hotter, with you looking ultra confident. And two, it will keep your from blowing through the 3 moves you know too quickly. Nobody wants to see your fairy spin 9 times.
2. Show your ass!
No, don’t pull your pants down or anything (unless your pole-mergency is a stripping audition), but when in doubt, face down, ass up! That’s the way we like to look competent at pole dancing! While you’re down there, touch your legs like you’ve shaved recently. Ha, ha. Pole dancing is lies.
3. Feet in, hips out
Get all bendy with it. If you’re holding the pole with your inside hand, get those feet nice and close to the base and drop your hip out. Feel that stretch? Good–you’re in sexy, bendy town. Now walk, one foot in front of the other, and sway those hips. When your arms starts getting low, swoop your hips out and around, and pivot your body toward the pole, switching out your arms. Walk in the opposite directions. Bonus points for a hair flip. That’s how you walk on a pole, bitch.
4. Caress that shit!
Here’s a cute move. Pause while walking, and face the pole with it just a little closer than arm’s length away from you. Trace it down with your hands while bending over with an arched back and your ass proudly blowing in the wind. When your head’s level with your hips, dip it around one side of the pole and flip it up on the other. If this is too complicated, just remember to caress the pole. It’s sexy, because Freud.
5. Fall
No, not off the pole. If that’s happening, wipe your hands, girl! I’m talking falling out and around the pole. Try this to practice the motion: standing about 6 inches away from the pole, grab it over your head with your inside arm (straight, always straight!), and lift your outside leg to form an X shape with your body. Then, push off a little with your inside foot and slowly, controlled-ly, fall forward and around the pole, using your body weight for momentum. Step and pivot to face forward again, and try it on the other side.
If nothing else, get comfortable with that motion–it’s the base of all spins–and mix it with other little moves. Fall out and around, then hike up (ie. hook the pole with your leg at hip level). Or when you pivot, keep turning until your back is flat against the pole, and throw in a little backwards grind. The possibilities are many. And if you’re following rule #1, hopefully you’ll have a few seconds to get creative!
It’s kind of sigh inducing when you say “pole dancing” and people hear “Elizabeth Berkley in Showgirls.”
Let’s get something straight.
First of all, nobody licks poles. Poles are gross. Poles are covered in sweat, rubbing alcohol, and Dry Hands (that stuff golfers use to grip).
Second of all, there’s nothing particularly exotic or sexy about a pole dancing class. I’d say it’s on par with Bikram yoga, as far as the amount of time you spend with your legs in the air, or showing the wall mirrors your crotch. Heya!
It is much more fun though. You listen to hip hop! You spin around at high speeds! You wear heels! (Actually that part sucks. And it’s only sometimes).
But still, only slutty sluts who are slutty do pole dancing. Right? Otherwise they would just do yoga! Those whores.
Let’s set aside the fact that yoga sucks and talk about what pole does for your body.
Actually, let’s not. Let’s talk about why I hate yoga: there are no distractions. Yeah, yeah, I get that that’s the point. But when you’re uncomfortable, why think about it? You’re stuck in an unnatural position for an ungodly amount of time with nothing to detract how irritated and in pain you are. (A sampling of my thoughts during a yoga class: “THIS IS UNCOMFORTABLE. WHEN ARE WE DONE. OH GOD WHAT IF I SUDDENLY HAVE TO FART”).
It may be good for your body, but mother of god, yoga sucks.
But I digress.
Pole dancing tricks you into thinking you’re having fun while beating the crap out of your body. I bet if you were to tell me to do oblique crunches, leg lifts, squats, pull ups, reverse abdominal work, and glute squeezes for an hour, I would give you the Rage Comics “Bitch Please” face. And yet, that’s exactly what an hour of dancing accomplishes, plus aerobic work.
Take a pinwheel spin with an ankle hook, or an extended-leg hangman, for example. (Youtube that shit!). You don’t notice because you’re whipping around a pole like a little kid and generally having a blast, but wow are you busting your abs and increasing your flexibility. True story: doing nothing but desperately trying to make a pinwheel spin look good, I somehow built up the flexibility to so a split in six months. I’M NOT EVEN KIDDING YOU. It might have even taken less time, but I only recently discovered this when somebody asked me if I could do a split, and I laughed at them–“Haha, no way, look at how pathetic this attempt at a split is going to–OH MY GOD I JUST DID IT.”
That’s a life long dream right there, accidentally fulfilled by pole dancing. I also do zero additional exercise outside of dancing, yet magically wake up with batman abs after drinking or it’s hot out (thanks for the chiseling, dehydration!).
Of course, I’m not exactly objective when it comes to pole dancing, because I’m a teacher now. But all the same, I want you to respect it. Cherish it. And before you talk trash, maybe even TRY IT!
Why?
A. It’s harder than it looks (seriously, give the girls that do this some credit).
B. We would all be making much more stripping instead of seriously dancing or teaching…except that we’re interested in seriously dancing and teaching
C. Looking sexy while pole dancing doesn’t mean you’re slutty… it means you worked your ass off in practice
and D. If you knew how fun it is, you’d be doing it too!
Curious? Consider giving it a spin! (see what I did there? WORDPLAY.)
You can check out some of the classes my studio offers here, and call or email to learn more. Just ask for Cathy! (Or “Britney Spears” or “The White Girl.” They’ll know who you’re talking about).
The Spin Diaries: Your Guide to Everything Pole and Aerial 