Tag Archives: Height

Dancing in Dallas

by Colleen

Last Saturday night, the first semi-formal dance of the year was held here at UD.  It was in celebration of the end of a thing called Charity Week here, a week filled with Princess Bride (the theme of the week) references  because of course, everyone here is awesome and knows the script verbatim.  Seriously.  My history professor has quoted it more than once in class.  If you haven’t seen it, do it now.

Anyway, I wasn’t quite sure if I even was going until the night of the dance.  My family (ie, Cale and Mary) had come to visit for the weekend, and I was not going to miss hanging out with them if I could help it.  Luckily, they didn’t have any plans for the night, so I threw on a black dress (compliments of my sister-in-law, Aurora), let down my hair, and headed out to the dance with my trusty sidekicks, Emma and Killian.

This picture brings up the issue of height that I’ve been having here in college.  Simply put, there is a startling lack of tall people here-specifically guys.  A couple of weeks ago, I asked Clare what I should write a a blog post about.  Her answer was: guys.  The fact is, there really aren’t enough guys here that live up to my standard of being at least (come on, please!) an inch taller than me.  College was quite the culture shock in this aspect.

But, I’m done with that tangent for now.  The dance was a success at least.  Guys or no guys.  They played “Cotton-eyed Joe”, the ultimate Slattery dance song, and I danced until my feet hurt, looking like the Irish, country bumpkin that I am.  I returned back to my dorm that night happy to have gone, feet aching pleasantly, and eyes heavy with sleep.  But then again, this IS college.  When am I not tired?

Until later, everyone.  I have a paper to write!

A Tiny Tall Tale

by Kate

Last night we went out to the very glamorous and very hip Kelly-Strayhorn Theater to see the Bellydance Superstars and to bid adieu to Pittsburgh’s amazing Zafira Dance Company, performing as a troupe for the last time. The Theater is a gorgeous old movie palace, and as is fitting for a theater named after Gene Kelly (who grew here in Pittsburgh) they book lots of very dynamic dance performances. I was excited to see the dancing, but to be completely honest I was even more excited to four inch stiletto heels in public.

Oh, it has been a long time since I’ve been in the spike heel giantess mood. When you are six feet tall standing in bare feet, the decision to wear four inch heels is quite a commitment. I am grateful on a daily basis that my husband is six foot five, and when I met him I was so excited about this fact that I wore high, high heels every chance I got and reveled in the startled looks of passerby. Lately, however, I’ve been wearing bright fuschia flats, cowboy boots, gladiator sandals, and barefeet. I just haven’t been feeling the high heel vibe.

I realized how much I missed it last night, slipping on a pair of black stiletto with skinny jeans. I threw on a blazer from Banana Republic that I found last time I was at Goodwill, and felt very chic. Olympia was in a stylish striped top and Casey was tall and handsome and the theater was beautiful and the dancing was amazing and all was well.

Until right after we took this picture. Olympia had kicked off her shoes and was dancing and running wildly through the lobby, until she slipped and came down hard while biting deep into her bottom lip. We mopped up the blood and put her in the sling, where she slept peacefully through the second half of the show. She also slept peacefully when, while attempting to perform the challenging feat of walking down three steps, I caught my (four inch) heel and went tumbling forward through space, managing to stab myself in the foot with one spiked heel before catching myself clumsily with my arms and knees. Except for the stabbed foot, I was fine, and the swing just swung like a hammock on a gentle sea and Olympia slept right through it, but the 50 people behind me let out a collective gasp of horror.

I turned red and beat a quick stagger of a retreat, thinking three things: 1) I love that sling, 2) Perhaps I should put some of the energy I spend practicing dance into learning to walk, and 3) This totally did not dampen my desire to wear high heels in public. But perhaps I need new ones?