And one day I became flamenco

I needed a break from tango. It is an incredible dance that I will always return to and that I have danced for years, but its codes are sexist. It is the man who takes you to dance (and if not, there is no way) and it is he who leads you around the dance floor. And what do you want me to tell you, I handle the dependencies badly. And one day, already fed up, I turned flamenco.

At the beginning of last year I decided to escape from dependency and male egos and try some individual and more active discipline. I thought about funky. Aerobic, fun and freer. But I didn't find any nearby academy that taught initiation classes for women in their fifties, or rather, I didn't find any group of women in their fifties who wanted to embark on the adventure of modern dance. My joy in a well!

In a school, given the opportunity to recruit a new student, they offered me to try flamenco.

"Come to a class and then make a decision," the person in charge suggested to me over the phone.

"Why not?" It was a passionate dance, like the tango; very down-to-earth, like me, and didn't need a partner. And so it was the beginning of a new relationship that is turning out wonderful. Throughout the course I attended classes, first for one hour a week and later for two. One knew little to me. We form a great group. Several women, who arrived at the locker room whipped because we all linked our dancing moment with the end of the work day. We forged a beautiful friendship and, among others, I met María, fun-loving, exciting and cheerful, with whom I immediately connected. My partner, in addition to dancing, had another great passion: horses. I took note.

I worked hard with my new discipline. Every day, the same warm-up. Wrists, arms, feet. Toe, heel, sole, toe, heel, sole... On Tuesdays and Thursdays I returned home happy. Along the way, I was practicing in my head and at traffic lights, I timidly moved my feet. "Bread; peak, bread; peak, bread; bread, bread”, I repeated to myself while clicking my heels. And when I arrived at the portal, while waiting for the elevator, I executed the steps looking at myself in the enormous wall mirror.

In spring, my academy announced an intensive d workshop at its headquarters in Gijón.

with a dancer, “La Truco”. It was a Saturday afternoon and I could go. Good! I called the or

ganizadora del evento y me interesé por el nivel del taller, la edad de las participantes y el espacio de la sala. Todo bien. Me lo recomendó encarecidamente y en mi escuela, mi profe, lo corroboró. “Te va a encantar».

The Saturday in question arrived and off I went, with my eight-goth black skirt and my old tuned tango shoes (the shoemaker had put nails in the tips and heels to adapt them to flamenco). I paid for my workshop at reception (50 euros) and went to the locker room. Upon entering, first surprise. All girls. They all look at me as if to say, what is this lady doing here? and I close the door and don't go in, out of pure panic. I return to reception and inform them.

-The locker room is full of girls. You didn't tell me it was a children's workshop.

-Yes, don't worry, there are several women signed up. They will not have arrived.

I retraced my steps and changed, with some modesty, it must be said, among the little dancers. There were many. Once dressed, I left the suffocating environment of the changing room and went out into the hallway. There, a small girl was crying with her mother because she was afraid to go to class. She was 8 years old and the smallest of them all. Her mother tried to convince her to overcome her fears and enjoy the class. I felt the same.

-Don't worry. The same thing happens to me and you see, I'm the oldest in the group and I don't know how to dance. What do you think if we go in together? - I invited

I took her hand and we did it. The room was huge and I felt like a giant in the land of the Smurfs. Even the dancer was short. My little friend and I stood in the last row. But the teacher noticed her small stature and told her to stand in the front line “so that you can see better, girl, that you are very small.” I was left helpless. I can't wait to run! I looked towards the door in case any adult arrived but nothing.

The beginning of class wasn't much better. La Truco began to perform a choreography that the girls seemed to know. I tried to follow them but... Suddenly they were all going to the right, and I was going to the left. We clapped and mine sounded uncoordinated, we moved our arms and mine went to the opposite side and suddenly, a turn. I had never been around in my life. Well, a flamenco turn. I tried. No way! I saw my reflection in the mirror and the image that came back to me was that of a bunch of little girls, rather pale, with their still unformed bodies stuffed into their flamenco skirts and dancing to the beat and there, in the background, a very pretty aunt. tall (in comparison), very dark and with a body full of curves, rather forceful, moving without any type of style or grace and totally out of rhythm. He looked like an elephant in a china shop.

But it made me laugh. The situation was so ridiculous that there was no other option. “You are fifty years old. If you want to learn to do something from scratch at fifty years old, don't count on the rest of the students to be your age. You will always find younger people. Is that going to stop you?” I asked myself. “Well no,” I responded. “Well, enjoy.” I continued dancing the rest of the hour as best I could and absorbing, like a sponge, what the afternoon brought me. I was still not conscious, but with that attitude I was also becoming flamenco.

In the second hour of the workshop, the advanced level students joined the class. To my surprise, they were all adults, young, but, at least, of legal age. La Truco announced that her son Cristian would be the one who would teach the class and dance bulerías. I stayed back, to go unnoticed, and for the first fifteen minutes I tried but it was beyond me. I had never heard the bulerías compás in my life and it has no more and no less than twelve beats! I went from little girls to girls who were preparing to be professional dancers. What mastery! Impossible to follow them. I then left and sat next to the dancer to enjoy the workshop as a spectator. At the end, I stormed out to the locker room to change, at least in solitude. But a little girl came looking for me. “Sandra, they are calling you in class to give you the diploma,” he told me. My mother! What a shame!

My sister and my daughter came to pick me up on the way out because we were going away together for the weekend. During dinner, telling them about the experience and reliving it, I had such a fit of laughter that the three of us ended up lying on the floor. The truth is that I was somewhat angry with the academy because I felt cheated, but only with the laughter we had that night and with what I saw during the bulerías class I reaffirmed that I wanted to continue dancing flamenco, no matter what the cost. And he was in no hurry. That's the good thing about starting with fifty, that there are no goals, just enjoy.

I continued at my academy until the end of the course and I tried very hard to learn and memorize the flamenco tango choreography that the teacher taught us. I had been thinking about it since the beginning of the course and I had already decided, in some way, I wanted to link flamenco with the store. Create an advertising campaign that included it. But he still couldn't establish a coherent link.

One day, at the beginning of summer, while having breakfast at home, inspiration came to me: Get flamenco. I already had it. From there, I came up with the entire fall campaign. I drew a parallel between women's empowerment and flamenco dance and attitude.

When something doesn't work out for you, when you doubt, when you fall, when you suffer, when you have to start over, when you fight, when you face something that scares you, when you overcome your fears. Get flamenco. And I wrote: “Get up, feel, shout, hit the ground with your shoes, raise your arms, straighten your body, spin, make yourself heard. You are unique. You are powerful. This fall, go flamenco. The old Iriarte”.

Wow! I had it. I already saw it in my head. I kept thinking. I watched a video. Flamenco music in the background and images of women riding horses alternating with women dancing. Autumn clothes, from the new collection, but the flamenco attitude. High chin, upright shoulders, challenging look. The video would be followed by a campaign of photographs of clients with the same philosophy, street clothes, flamenco attitude.

I got to work. I told it to Ezequiel Sebastián Beltrán, graphic designer and owner of Objective Drone. As usual, he praised my idea and offered his collaboration. I spoke with Luz Sol, photographer and my soulmate, author of the photos of Mujeres Bellas y Flores Preciosas. He joined the project. I asked María, my dance partner, to let us film with Kalinor and Sinya, two of her horses, and to accompany me in front of the camera with some flamenco steps. He agreed to the first and was left to consider the second, which he finally rejected. I proposed to Bea, Clea and Lu to be the young Amazons. Clea couldn't due to work reasons but my other two girls happily agreed. And I started suggesting it to several clients. Most accepted the project with enthusiasm.

In total, sixteen real women have been involved in Ponte flamenca. Once again, I was surprised by the affection, enthusiasm, enthusiasm, desire to collaborate, generosity and dedication of so many people. Thank you very much, from the bottom of my heart. There are no words.

But the most difficult thing remained. That my low level of flamenco passed the test to record the video. I immersed myself in YouTube to watch tutorials. I danced in the doorway, moved my arms in front of the bathroom mirror, twirled my wrists as I walked down the street and listened to everything I could get my hands on. I contacted a friend who presides over the Enrique Morente flamenco club, in Oviedo. I attended a talk about flamenco styles and, in Malaga, I went to a tablao with Nole, my boy and another of my great strongholds in everything that comes to mind.

I wanted to become flamenco no matter what the cost. That's how, by those delicious whims of fate, being in the store one day telling Martín, my tango mentor and an exquisite friend, about the experience I had had with La Truco, a girl who was trying on a dress in the fitting room, He overheard our conversation and asked our permission to intrude. We were delighted to give it to him. Galatea, who was her name, told us that she lived in Switzerland and that she had been dancing flamenco for many years and that, curiously, a friend of hers who also lived in those parts but whose mother was Asturian, was going to give an intensive bulerías workshop in Gijón. for three days in August. His name was Covi Passantino and, he assured us, he gave great classes for all levels. He showed us the workshop sign and gave us his contact information. That same day, I sent her an email and called her.

What a nice aunt! She explained to me that everything had arisen from a small workshop for her friends but that it had gotten out of hand and that they had already exceeded the quota. It was left to put me third on the waiting list. I told him the idea of my campaign and he thought it was great. I also told him that my level was beginner but he encouraged me. There is always a beginning.

The thing remained like this. However, it was destined for me to enter that workshop. Two days before, he called me and told me that the space was larger than expected and that, if I was still interested, I had a place.

-Of course!- I didn't hesitate for a second.

There were three afternoons, from eight to ten at night. Covi turned out to be even saltier than on the phone. One of those people with immense, contagious, unique energy. In the workshop there were many women, an 11-year-old girl (you can't see how she danced), a 17-year-old boy (son of the owner of the academy, a phenomenon) and the husband of a woman with serious vision problems who, still So, there he was giving everything. What a beautiful group, what integration and what a good vibe. There were people of all levels starting with the most basic, which was mine. But at no time did I feel displaced, neglected or awkward. It was just another one of me giving my all and enjoying being with a scandalous teacher. My first challenge was the beat. “One, two, One, two three. Four five six. Seven eight nine ten". And start again. I spent the rest of the summer counting. When I was walking down the street, in the elevator, in the doorway, while scrubbing the store, on the beach… “One, two. One, two, three…” Covi urged us to record it at the end of each class so that we could later study at home and learn the steps. I studied, I watched them over and over again, I tried to repeat them but it was really complicated for me. Many nuances escaped me and I couldn't fit the steps into the beat.

"Peaceful. Patience. Little by little,” he told me. On the last day of the workshop, Fran, a guitar player and singer with incredible artistry, came and an end of party was set up in which we all had to go out to the center of the circle to perform the pataita por bulerías that Covi had taught us. I was terrified. It didn't work out, I still didn't understand the step and even less knew how to fit it with the music, but I put on flamenco again and told myself that I had nothing to lose. That was not an exam and I was among very good classmates. Raquel, a woman who danced very beautifully, urged me to go out to the center accompanying another girl who was doing very well, so she would be my guide. And I did it! It was probably the worst bulerías pataita in the world but what the hell. Even Sara Baras had a first time. And then I relaxed and enjoyed myself like crazy, I clapped my hands, cheered on my teammates, and even dared to go out again. As Covi said during those days, that attitude gives her an ole.

The following week I went on vacation for three days to a world dance festival. I've been going every year for eight years. There, another gift from a friend, Domingo, helped me dismantle Covi's choreography to rebuild it in the rhythm and make it mine. We practiced a couple of afternoons and then I continued rehearsing. I had to have it by the beginning of September. There was a video to record.

When I returned I contacted Martín to give me a space at his academy, La Bombonera, to rehearse, but he was on vacation. However, it was he who, upon his return, provided me with a board and an old mirror that I placed in my garage so I could click my heels without disturbing anyone.

A week ago, Eze, Puri (his girl), Nole and I went very early to Xagó beach to record the images with a drone and a ground camera. You already know the result and, if not, you can see it here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8gR8OH8Kvw

This has been the story of the gestation and birth of our latest campaign. How nice it is to get excited, overcome fears, face up and succeed for the simple fact of doing what you like or what comes to mind. I am an enthusiast of ideas, of projects, of what is to come. And to bring them to fruition, to face my fears and come out successful, I have often put on flamenco. Although it is true that without the friends I have, I would still lose my temper. Thank you to each and every one of you who have made this campaign possible. I feel very proud of all of you.

And you, you already know. This fall, and in life, go flamenco. For the moment, I bought some new shoes and yesterday I started the course.