Then try to remember…
- Those first halting steps in dance class when your daughter smiled at you and her eyes sparkled “look at me, look at me!”
- Watching her savor the scent of her first pair of hard shoes and the almost pious manner in which she put them on.
- Painfully enduring the first time she danced in them.
- The smiles, giggles and pattering chats she would have with all her friends while “lacing up” before dance class.
- The magic of the first Feis.
- The ice cream cone you bought to console her for not placing.
- The squeals of delight when, after looking back and forth between the results board and her number card for the third time she was finally convinced that was really her number in third place!
- Her sleeping exhausted in the back seat of the car on the way home while still managing to grasp the trophy.
- The wonder and pleasure in her face the first time she spun around in front of the mirror in that totally intoxicating brand new dance school dress!
- Watching her on stage at her first-dance out in front of a crowd of at least twenty people.
- Seeing the shock on her face as she walked out on stage in front of thousands of people as the pre-fireworks entertainment on Independence Day.
- Bragging about it all next week to everyone you met at work.
- Listening in bemused interest as she described the “Conor Beck” shrine she created in her sixth grade hall locker.
- Trying to pry her away from the vendor tables at a Feis and then buying that “perfect brooch” anyway.
- The startled look of surprise on her face when her number was announced as recalling at her First Oireachtas.
- The warmth, humor, and absurdity of the conversations among the parking lot parents at dance practice.
- All of them danced, sung, laughed, celebrated, played and shared with your daughter!
It’s not an obsession…
It’s an incredible, unexplainable magic, and it swims and sparkles!
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Freckles are Back!
Dear ZandB
I’m hearing rumors that the adjudicators are looking for the “Traditional Irish Look”, and that orange legs from fake tans are “out”. What is the “Traditional Irish Look” and does it come in a spray can?
Distraught Feis Mom,
Dear Distraught Feis Mom,
Young Ladies with the” Irish Look” are indeed, “where it’s at”, I’m told. They’re even having contests for the “Reddest Hair”, “Greenest Eyes” and “Most Freckles” at Irish Festivals throughout North America.
But all is not lost! You can always buy a flaming red wig and green contacts for your daughter, and now, with the invention of “ZandB’s Instant Freckles Butter”, finally capture the much-desired “Freckled Franny” look.
Yes with ZandB’s Instant Freckles Butter, you just “spritz it on” (by applying some to a tooth brush like the one on dad’s sink and flicking the bristles with your thumb). Allow it to set for a few minutes and spray off the excess, for that Fresh Freckled Face Girl Look! (See before and after pictures below)
We ran exhaustive safety tests on the product prior to releasing it on an unsuspecting public. OK, I’m gonna level with you; we shaved our cat, “Trebles”, spritzed him with it. He actually looks pretty impressive and there were no side effects with the minor exception of when we let him out at night all the neighborhood cats are waiting patiently on the back porch to whoop his cat butt, but I’m sure it’s just a communication issue.
As with all new products, your dancer should practice spritzing the butter before applying it on herself. Family pets and young siblings are great in this regard. You can spritz just the arms and face (watch out for those eyes) or go the “full Monty” for that authentic Gaelic Look!
Remember ladies, your daughters need all the help they can get climbing that podium. Don’t let them down!
Available soon from your favorite Feis vendors.
ZandB
I’m hearing rumors that the adjudicators are looking for the “Traditional Irish Look”, and that orange legs from fake tans are “out”. What is the “Traditional Irish Look” and does it come in a spray can?
Distraught Feis Mom,
Dear Distraught Feis Mom,
Young Ladies with the” Irish Look” are indeed, “where it’s at”, I’m told. They’re even having contests for the “Reddest Hair”, “Greenest Eyes” and “Most Freckles” at Irish Festivals throughout North America.
But all is not lost! You can always buy a flaming red wig and green contacts for your daughter, and now, with the invention of “ZandB’s Instant Freckles Butter”, finally capture the much-desired “Freckled Franny” look.
Yes with ZandB’s Instant Freckles Butter, you just “spritz it on” (by applying some to a tooth brush like the one on dad’s sink and flicking the bristles with your thumb). Allow it to set for a few minutes and spray off the excess, for that Fresh Freckled Face Girl Look! (See before and after pictures below)
We ran exhaustive safety tests on the product prior to releasing it on an unsuspecting public. OK, I’m gonna level with you; we shaved our cat, “Trebles”, spritzed him with it. He actually looks pretty impressive and there were no side effects with the minor exception of when we let him out at night all the neighborhood cats are waiting patiently on the back porch to whoop his cat butt, but I’m sure it’s just a communication issue.
As with all new products, your dancer should practice spritzing the butter before applying it on herself. Family pets and young siblings are great in this regard. You can spritz just the arms and face (watch out for those eyes) or go the “full Monty” for that authentic Gaelic Look!
Remember ladies, your daughters need all the help they can get climbing that podium. Don’t let them down!
Available soon from your favorite Feis vendors.
ZandB
Thursday, December 04, 2008
The History Wigs in Irish Dance
"And they did tie back their hair which was their own from birth and festooned instead on their heads ponderous wigs having an appearance not unlike raccoons on which they placed silver diadems and crowns.”
Source: “ The True and Unexpurgated History of Feis – Part II -The Ten Commandments of Feis”
As a commentator on various terpsichorean aspects of Irish culture, one question I’m frequently asked by the uninoculated public is, “What’s with the wigs?”
I myself inadvertently blurted out the same question a couple three years back while staring incredulously at a petite, eight-year-old dancer during an awards ceremony at a local Feis. She was wearing the newest trend in Irish dance tresses, a rather voluminous wig that, with the exception of the color, would make Marge Simpson envious.
A Feis dad, possibly her father, overheard my somewhat callous remark, and responded, “It’s traditional.”
“Uh . . . what I meant was….” I began to apologetically blabber as he reassuringly added, “Wigs are part of the tradition of Irish Dance.”
Yet another piece of the puzzle solved in the myths and legends of “Traditional Irish Dance,” I bemused.
Now if one examines photographs of Irish Dancers through the ages it becomes readily apparent that, up until about a dozen years ago, girls danced festooned in whatever hair styles were currently fashionable outside the Irish dance arena. There are a few pictures of the occasional ringlets and a bow or two, but for the most part, hair was, well, hair.
No jigs with wigs…
Then one day, as the story goes, a young dancer showed up at a Feis with striking red hair and naturally luxurious curls bouncing and soaring above her as she cavorted across the stage, dancing brilliantly and enthralling the judges with her grace and beauty, her tresses accentuating every leap and move.
Feis moms stood transfixed with the knowledge that they were witnessing yet the next round of “tradition” emerging before their very eyes.
Like some modern-day female “Samsonite”, her hair was imagined to be the major component of her success, and she was quickly emulated.
Competitors began showing up at the Feis with more and more curls as parents competed in an absurd race to add yet one more ringlet to their daughter’s mane to heighten their dancer’s jumps and leaps.
It might have stopped there, but for the efforts of one inventive Feis Mom to devise the ultimate curling technique. The evidence of her success (her daughter) showed up at a Feis wearing scores of thin foam strips in her hair in some porcupine spiked fashion. The other Feis moms stared slack-jawed as each strip was removed exposing one perfect ringlet after another.
The age of the “soft spike curlers” was upon us.
Mother after mother scrambled to see who could entangle their daughter’s hair with the most foam barbs. Sixty, eighty, one hundred spikes and more were not uncommon. Each mom had her special “installation technique” complete with preferred wine selection for this laborious ritual preceding each Feis Day.
For a while, Feis after Feis rolled by, and no significant changes occurred in regards to hair. An apparent truce seemed to prevail, and this new curling practice became the norm. Sure, an occasional wig would make an appearance but, at the time, they were considered either to be shabby novelty items worn on Halloween, or a bit too haughty for Irish dance. Same difference.
And then everything changed one year at the Glen Echo Feis, a popular outdoor affair in the Washington D.C. area.
On the particular day in question, storm clouds had settled in and dancers scrambled from tent to tent, avoiding the rain while racing from one competition to another. Needless to say, it was a woeful time for hair curls. As the day wore on, moms watched in hopeless frustration as each dancer’s hair wilted like lettuce left out in the sun.
During one competition, shortly after a group of dancers lined up with their now drooping locks, an abrupt silence among the audience seemed to stop time itself and all eyes were transfixed on one petite competitor in the middle of the flock. She was fidgeting ever-so-slightly, aware of the stares riveted on her. Something was different about her, something not quite right. It was . . .
“A wig!” the stage monitor exclaimed, on closer examination.
“A wig!” several moms gasped or whispered to each other.
There, amidst dancers who had spent several hours meticulously crafting strand upon strand of curls only to watch them wither and die, stood a girl with a perfect, perky, pelt of curls, undisturbed by the humidity, the heat, and the rain.
It was more than the average Feis mom could endure.
That night, all over the region, emails abounded, online orders were placed and wig after wig purchased by mothers who can still to this day recall that exact moment when they muttered, “That does it, I’m getting a %@*%$@ wig!”
So now when someone asks me, “What’s with the wigs?”
I respond like I always do …
“It’s traditional.”
Source: “ The True and Unexpurgated History of Feis – Part II -The Ten Commandments of Feis”
As a commentator on various terpsichorean aspects of Irish culture, one question I’m frequently asked by the uninoculated public is, “What’s with the wigs?”
I myself inadvertently blurted out the same question a couple three years back while staring incredulously at a petite, eight-year-old dancer during an awards ceremony at a local Feis. She was wearing the newest trend in Irish dance tresses, a rather voluminous wig that, with the exception of the color, would make Marge Simpson envious.
A Feis dad, possibly her father, overheard my somewhat callous remark, and responded, “It’s traditional.”
“Uh . . . what I meant was….” I began to apologetically blabber as he reassuringly added, “Wigs are part of the tradition of Irish Dance.”
Yet another piece of the puzzle solved in the myths and legends of “Traditional Irish Dance,” I bemused.
Now if one examines photographs of Irish Dancers through the ages it becomes readily apparent that, up until about a dozen years ago, girls danced festooned in whatever hair styles were currently fashionable outside the Irish dance arena. There are a few pictures of the occasional ringlets and a bow or two, but for the most part, hair was, well, hair.
No jigs with wigs…
Then one day, as the story goes, a young dancer showed up at a Feis with striking red hair and naturally luxurious curls bouncing and soaring above her as she cavorted across the stage, dancing brilliantly and enthralling the judges with her grace and beauty, her tresses accentuating every leap and move.
Feis moms stood transfixed with the knowledge that they were witnessing yet the next round of “tradition” emerging before their very eyes.
Like some modern-day female “Samsonite”, her hair was imagined to be the major component of her success, and she was quickly emulated.
Competitors began showing up at the Feis with more and more curls as parents competed in an absurd race to add yet one more ringlet to their daughter’s mane to heighten their dancer’s jumps and leaps.
It might have stopped there, but for the efforts of one inventive Feis Mom to devise the ultimate curling technique. The evidence of her success (her daughter) showed up at a Feis wearing scores of thin foam strips in her hair in some porcupine spiked fashion. The other Feis moms stared slack-jawed as each strip was removed exposing one perfect ringlet after another.
The age of the “soft spike curlers” was upon us.
Mother after mother scrambled to see who could entangle their daughter’s hair with the most foam barbs. Sixty, eighty, one hundred spikes and more were not uncommon. Each mom had her special “installation technique” complete with preferred wine selection for this laborious ritual preceding each Feis Day.
For a while, Feis after Feis rolled by, and no significant changes occurred in regards to hair. An apparent truce seemed to prevail, and this new curling practice became the norm. Sure, an occasional wig would make an appearance but, at the time, they were considered either to be shabby novelty items worn on Halloween, or a bit too haughty for Irish dance. Same difference.
And then everything changed one year at the Glen Echo Feis, a popular outdoor affair in the Washington D.C. area.
On the particular day in question, storm clouds had settled in and dancers scrambled from tent to tent, avoiding the rain while racing from one competition to another. Needless to say, it was a woeful time for hair curls. As the day wore on, moms watched in hopeless frustration as each dancer’s hair wilted like lettuce left out in the sun.
During one competition, shortly after a group of dancers lined up with their now drooping locks, an abrupt silence among the audience seemed to stop time itself and all eyes were transfixed on one petite competitor in the middle of the flock. She was fidgeting ever-so-slightly, aware of the stares riveted on her. Something was different about her, something not quite right. It was . . .
“A wig!” the stage monitor exclaimed, on closer examination.
“A wig!” several moms gasped or whispered to each other.
There, amidst dancers who had spent several hours meticulously crafting strand upon strand of curls only to watch them wither and die, stood a girl with a perfect, perky, pelt of curls, undisturbed by the humidity, the heat, and the rain.
It was more than the average Feis mom could endure.
That night, all over the region, emails abounded, online orders were placed and wig after wig purchased by mothers who can still to this day recall that exact moment when they muttered, “That does it, I’m getting a %@*%$@ wig!”
So now when someone asks me, “What’s with the wigs?”
I respond like I always do …
“It’s traditional.”
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