We took the girls to see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular starring the Rockettes. It was a really cute show jam-packed with plenty of dancing, singing, and high kicks. I think the amount of rhinestones, Swarovski crystals, and glitter they have on their costumes might rival Elton John's evening wear collection. Well at least his cruise wear evening collection.. I had tried to explain to Isabella exactly who the Rockettes were.
Me: "They are very famous dancers from New York who are known for kicking their legs very high when they dance."
Isabella: "That does not sound very interesting at all. It sounds boring."
She was totally unimpressed. I hoped that by the time she actually saw them onstage she might change her tune.
Heading to a Christmas show made me feel like we should dress up a bit. I always enjoy having a reason so look sassy. Isabella can be convinced quite quickly. Sophie is another matter. I had to choose an outfit that says, "Yes I am appropriately dressed for the holidays and maybe even church yet I do not look like an American Girl Doll." It is a very fine line with her. Dresses, tulle, ruffles, sequins, and any "foofy" stuff is off-limits. If there is a millimeter of anything scratchy touching her flesh she will start convulsing until I cave and let her wear a velour hoodie and pants from Limited Too.
Santa came out and danced like no old, fat man in a heavy red suit I have ever seen. I think it was Mario Lopez fresh from trying out a second time for Dancing With the Stars. This dude had hip gyrations and pirouettes a lazy man at the North Pole who eat millions of plates of cookies each year could never do. There were back-up dancers in bright plaids, stripes, and day-glow legwarmers galore. It should have been called "Supergay--A Christmas Xanadu Odyssey".
Then out came those Rockettes. They ARE pretty spectacular-ific. I know that's not a real word. But these long-legged ladies maybe deserve a new word to describe their synchronized sass. It is pretty hard to choreograph dancers together. You would think a solo might be harder but you are wrong. If you are dancing by yourself if you totally fuck it up and freestyle because you have a brain fart on your moves, who will know? Unless you piss yourself in the middle of stage and run off crying your audience will assume it's all part of the show. These women kick at the same height. It's a tad higher than hip level but not past their chest. In perfect harmony. Quite amazing if you've even seen it. And they change showgirl-style costumes so many times I got whiplash. Glitter, glam, and cellulite-free gams. You might be scoffing at me thinking, "Geez, this show looks sappy as hell. I would waste my money to see that dumb toy soldier dance." If you saw this soldier piece you would shut your pie-hole. Very cool the way these women fall like dominoes into each others' arms really, reaaaaaallllllllyyyyy slowly. Got my money's worth!
But wait! There is a bonus to this holiday show. Jesus comes and hijacks the whole performance! Beware if you are Jewish or Muslim or Buddhist. This might border on religious zealot cabaret. We are talking live camels, donkeys (heard them hee-hawing in the makeshift tent in the parking lot), sheep, and goats. There were shepherds and wise men and the most outlandishly metallic cloaks and robes at every pace. There was a giant flat-screen TV which stated how important Jesus Christ was to the world, comparing him to all other gods and prophets. Jesus and Mary knelt in their manger scene appropriately. The baby Jesus was presumed there in his metallic swaddling clothes. There was more light coming from his aura (spotlight induced) than a disco premiere at Studio 54 in its heyday. I am a Christian so it was all good with me. I was hoping Isabella wouldn't be a drooling princess by this point so she could see the live camels and I would not have to schlep her in her silky foof-a-loof all the way back to row TT in the parking lot. No dice. She missed the camels and I made a papoose of satin to give her a piggy back ride rather than wake her. I did this in high heeled boots and a skirt, mind you. One of the Rockettes came out and said, "Damn girl, look at those legs!! You are strong to carry that kid. Wanna try out for a sweet-ass kick line?" Then Sultan pinched me and I realized I had simply hallucinated because I had sniffed too much incense and fake snow. I slept soundly that night and did not dream of sugar plums dancing in my head. I dreamt of Jesus in day-glow legwarmers getting tossed about by 50 women in fishnets and a perverted dude in a red velvet suit. I'm pretty sure that was not a candy cane in his pants....
1 comment:
Yeah, I noticed how synchronized the kicks were. Unbelievable. I could not get over how each Rockette seemed to be the same body shape as well. Their hips had to be the exact same width, etc. I don't know how they do it! I kept waiting for one of the camels to sneeze and blow snot on the crowd, but it did not happen. Damn. It was all too perfect for me.
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