Nobody Puts Peggy In the Corner

Dear Swing Enthusiast,

Last night was not without its triumphs. I wore one of those trendy shorts onesies with footless tights and heels. HOT! Unfortunately, the ensemble’s magic worked best on The Chief, whose response to the outfit was to call me a “tramp!” True story.

Cowboy Girl and Gal Pal were in attendance, along with Apple Guy, who danced quite a few with me. Mr. Apple and I did some of the best dancing of our swing lives last night. But my best turn was with the mysterious Grisly Adam. Let’s face it. I have a bit of a crush on the shy but steady bearded boy who’s just a little bit behind my swing level, giving me an edge of confidence that puts ideas in my head. Grisly only comes out of hiding occasionally, looking like it took all of his nerve to come and ask me to dance. This could be because (a) he covertly dances with his girlfriend most of the night and only looks for some other partnerless girl when she goes to the bathroom, or (b) because he thinks I’m super cute! I have nothing more to say on the matter other than he peaked my interest last night, so today I’m hoping for option b.

I actually don’t want to talk about myself right now though. Shocking, I know. I do want to talk about one of my favorite people in the whole swing universe, Peggy. I met Peggy a little over a year ago when I started working for her, and it was love at first sight. Peggy is a fashion icon to the girls in our workplace. Every day she breezes in looking like a vintage fashion plate from the 20s, 30s, 40s, or 50s, often wearing a hat of her own crafting. Peggy is not only fabulously beautiful and fashionable, but she is also truly unassuming about her glamour. She’s bighearted, modest, mischievous, witty, sensitive, sincere, and a terrific dancer to boot! Simply put: She is dazzling inside and out.

So why would someone this amazing have any trouble getting someone to ask her to dance?

That’s the question Apple Guy and I were faced with last night when we found ourselves once again walking to the subway together. (Please try to keep in mind that he is admittedly only attracted to Asian women before your minds go running to a seedy romantic gutter in which they do not belong!) On our familiar walk, Apple Guy mentioned that last week (when I was scarcely speaking to him) he asked Peggy to dance with him for the very first time. Originally, he asked her if she was just taking a rest on the sidelines on purpose, as most advanced follows, such as herself, are on the dance floor all night long. However, much to his surprise, she responded that she, in fact, rarely got asked to dance.

Enter the rakish, handsome, exceedingly popular swing teacher, “Woody Bellagamba.” AKA: Peggy’s husband. I know, I know, Woody and Peggy’s combined names may seem too quaint a bit of assonance to bear for all the days of this blog. Trust me; there was just no getting around it.

Now, Woody Bellagamba is 100% extraordinary in his own right. He’s a marvelous professional swing dancer with his own flair for vintage fashion. In sexy opposition to each other, at first glance, Woody is a rougher, roguish, definitively male answer to Peggy’s lady-like demeanor. They’re like a grown-up version Sandy and Danny from Grease, minus the singing and camp. Whereas Peggy excels in all things ballroom, Woody prefers the down and dirty, fast-paced world of lindy hop. They’re the Green Acres couple of the dance studio. Hold on a minute while I think of another old school film or tv reference to better explain how I see their relationship. He’s Mork; she’s Mindy. He’s the Ghost; she’s Mrs. Muir. He’s Oscar; she’s Felix. He’s Scarecrow; she’s Mrs. King. He’s Rock; she’s Doris. He’s Cagney; she’s Lacey. If Mary Tyler Moore could date the Fonze, you’d get Peggy and Woody. Get it? It works. It’s hot!

…to the untrained eye!

Actually, they’re smoldering in any light. But when you see Woody cutting a rug all night with every lovely swing enthusiast tart on the floor, while Peggy waits in hope of a partner on the side, you start to wonder. Now don’t get me wrong; they do dance together. Because it draws on their combined dance fortes, they dance a particularly mean Peabody. But whether Woody is aware of it or not, he’s like a rooster in a hen house when it comes to our little dance studio. All the women want him. Hell, last time I checked, I wanted him! (Don’t worry, Peggy. It’s a purely figurative lust.) So, while Woody happily swings with all of his students, Peggy, who is also clearly adored by her own male following, has a huge, invisible, rubber stamp on her hat that says:

Property of Mr. Woody Bellagamba. Hands off!

It’s sad, but true. You can look at her perfect porcelain features, but there’s a general sense that you can’t touch ‘em. Apple Guy couldn’t help but feel as though he was trespassing when he first approached her last week. And such is Peggy’s plight. She follows her husband to many a dance function within their charming swing community, and often watches him dance with the rest of the ladies in attendance from afar. But even though Apple Guy and I felt distressed when we realized that Peggy was not getting all the dance happiness she deserves, it didn’t diminish one ounce of the delight we each felt in being or, in his case, becoming her friend. I told Apple Guy about how Peggy started taking advanced ballroom classes with a competitor of our regular dance studio- someplace where there wasn’t so much social red tape to wade through. We both thought- Good for her!. Even Apple Guy, who barely knows her, can see that Peggy is a particularly amazing woman. Her qualities are, in fact, sometimes intimidating. And to all those cowards who let some preposterous idea about Woody (who, I must admit, I adore) or fear of a beautiful woman stop you from asking such a fine lady to dance, I say you made the right decision. Seriously, well done.

She’s way too good for you.

Love,

Sara