Saturday, January 1, 2011

And a Happy New Year!

After a week at the beach up north, dressed rather less often in my togs than I'd hoped to be, I saw the New Year in  back in Wellington, in the afore-mentioned Keith Matheson skirt. I usually spurn New Year as a social occasion, not to mention frills and diamantes as decent apparel for anyone over the age of 10.
These days, though, usually means BT - Before Tango.
BT, there was nothing like telling me I had to stay up past 12 to bring on an intense longing for an early night. It's different though when you can tango your way to this daft, man-made deadline. You don't have to kill time to the countdown, the toast and the exchange of kisses with desultory conversation or pointless drinking. In fact, you want the time to go slower so you can dance some more.
At one point J approached me with a diamante in the palm of her hand. Yes, it had fallen off the skirt. But I fumbled the handover and spent several minutes searching on my hands and knees under the furniture before it reappeared in someone else's hand.
I was also wearing new shoes. I stayed in S's mother's house up north, and S had warned me of a seductive shoeshop en route. Naturally, when we hit Matakana, I screeched to a halt, located the shop - Heavenly Soles - and plunged in.  I emerged some time later with new tango shoes (not, as I'll get around to telling you some time, a matter of pure indulgence this but a practical necessity if I want to keep on dancing til I can get some custom made in Buenos Aires).

This is my third pair of footwear from Minx, and all three are danceable in. Their shoes are fun, various and reasonably priced, and designed in New Zealand by this clever young woman - Cushla Reed.

I can't speak for her entire range, but those of hers I own are also very comfortable. Three or more solid hours dancing in unbroken leather, though, was bound to take its toll. I'd been distantly aware that all was not well in the toe and heel department but it wasn't til I got home to discover three big, luckily still unbroken, blisters that I realised these body parts had been sending me urgent and repeated stop-dancing messages. But their source had been too remote from my dancing pleasure centre to register. Tango - the ultimate pain killer, good for whatever ails you.

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