The Progressive Series, Part II by Vivienne Palmer

Have you been following guest blogger Vivienne's journey through The Progressive Series/Level 2? Last blog she posted about her experiences in her first few classes. Part II brings you up to date!

Day Eight: Fifth Class of Level 1-2 Progressive Series
Now that the showcase has come and gone there aren’t any Happy Hour Open Pole sessions on the calendar. Bummer. I appreciated the unstructured time to practice and this new development means I’m gonna have to take a closer look at the schedule. As you can probably tell, I am definitely working towards and end result and one class a week won’t get me there. Add to that a rather alarming anecdote from a fellow classmate about a rapidly progressing cohort:

“Did you know how much so and so goes to class? Sometimes three times a day!”

Excuse me? Three times a day?!? I better step up my game.

But back to the class. It was on the day the BIG STORM was to hit, the one that the networks kept yapping about like it was going to be Armageddon. As if we don’t live in COLORADO where it has been known to snow from time to time. Thursday rolled around and it seriously wasn’t looking like it was going to snow, but you couldn’t turn the radio or T.V. on without someone warning you to batten down the hatches. A few flakes started to sift down when it was time for me to head out around 6:30pm and it looked like something might happen, but I was still skeptical.

The upshot of this was that it gave the whole day that Will It or Won’t It feel, where at any moment the whole city (and class) was going to get shut down, and it might be nice just to stay in and relax on the couch in front of the fire, so maybe it would be okay if class was canceled, so I kind of had one foot in and one foot out the door. It’s not the greatest state of mind when resolve is key.

Class started on time but I wasn’t entirely all there. In an inverse of previous classes when an hour seemed to be too short, it seemed interminable since my ass was already on the couch. Once Sasha got us going with the warm-up and stretching I got my head back in the game and the time flew by, especially when we learned the pinwheel spin I had been admiring, and when we learned how to link a forward spin with a backwards spin. There were some requests to learn certain moves – as seen in the showcase which I must go to next time – which sounded to me like, “You take your leg and put it waaay up here and then your hand goes there and then you kind of go like this and it’s really awesome!” Sasha looked as perplexed as I felt and said, “You’ll learn all that, but not today. Today we’ll be working on …”

Me? I’m okay with the old step-by-step. Truth be told, I’m wondering if I should do the beginners series again, just to really nail all the basics. Either that or I’m going to have to find a place in my house to put a pole.

Day Nine: Sixth Class of Level 1-2 Progressive Series
This was not one of my better days, the problem being entirely my own. A blow-up with a close friend has got me stewing in my own juices and thinking about stuff that has nothing to do with spins and climbs. Sasha also approached me about doing the instructor training. I have to say that I am so incredibly flattered, yet a bit incredulous. Clearly she sees potential in me and I trust her instincts. However, it does make me turn a critical eye to just about everything I do.

My work in this class took on a whole new level of gravitas as with each move I asked myself, “How can I teach this if I can’t do it?” Of course I have a long road ahead of me before I could ever teach, a 20 hour teacher training, probably a repeat of the 1-2 Progressive Series while doing the Level 3 Series simultaneously (provided a get my yellow garter), sneaking in to practice once or twice a week... Actually, when I think about it that way, I see some possibility, but you get the picture. It was a challenging day on lots of levels.

The big news is that I had an important breakthrough. I noticed that all of the sudden I was naturally placing my lower hand further down on the pole and pushing away with it, rather than having it up high and hanging on it. While this is a small thing, I see it as the key to looking like I are floating around the pole rather than flinging myself around it. This small victory did a lot of buoy my spirits and keeps me thinking forward and up.

Day Ten: Seventh Class of Level 1-2 Progressive Series
Today was the make-up/review day before we attempt to test out of Level 2 next week. Something really profound has happened to the class since last week. Until tonight I can’t say that I knew any of my fellow students. I know a few names and everyone is familiar but aside from random tidbits of information thrown out here and there (Eliza is a teacher and has a child, Desi works for Spirals, Neka is married, etc.) I know next to nothing about anyone. My work feels largely solitary and when we freestyle, there is a sense that everyone goes inward and deep, which is actually quite remarkable, yet I don’t make a whole lot of eye contact or small-talk.

Increasingly, though, people are showing up 15-30 minutes prior to class to do a little warming up and stretching on their own. In this time there is a little more conversation and connection. Today the subject is the Level 3 Progressive Series and who has signed up. Suddenly there is a sense that we are in this together. “What? You haven’t signed up? Who here is in? C’mon, everyone else is doing it!” There is a camaraderie that we didn’t have before and the desire to stay together in this journey.

Since most of us were there early and already warm, Sasha got us moving along, doing drills on the poles and across the floor, which is a first for us. As we waited our turn in line, there was a little talk. Stacy talked about her experience with the teacher training and encouraged me to do it. Alicia cracked everyone up by drawing an imaginary circle around her and calling it her “Sexy Space”. We commented on each other’s progress and encouraging each other. It was like a wall came down, right as we were in the home stretch.

We went over all the spins, climbs and holds and I noticed how much my stamina has increased. I can climb all the way to the ceiling on both sides and the tops of my feet don’t hurt quite as badly as before. Some of Sasha’s technique is clicking with me and I can see a great difference. I can’t believe that the instruction portion of this series is over and next week will be the big test. I feel confident about next week and unconcerned about whether I pass or not. I know that Sasha wants us all to succeed and will provide us with the tools we need to do so. I’ve already signed up for the next series and am excited to keep going, especially if there are some friendly faces with me.

Day Ten: Level 1-2 Progressive Series: TEST DAY!
I’m in a room with a handful of ladies whom I have just started to bond with and we are at the end of our Level 1-2 Progressive Series. It’s test day. When we started this class about two months ago we could barely hold onto the pole and lift up our feet, and forget about climbing the pole. What’s most striking is how far we have all come.

The only goal for today’s session is to go down the list of must-know moves: spins, holds, climbs, booty bumps and stripper shuffles. I’m less nervous about this than I thought I would be, in part because Sasha is so completely supportive of everyone. She’s not here to fail people or intimidate, she’s really here to help and teach us. So after a quick warm-up and stretch we take our places at the poles and she pulls out a list and starts calling out moves for us to do. Since we are all going at the same time, she has us do each move several times on each side so she can get a good look at everyone. She’s not concerned whether we know the technical name of the move and we often turn to Stacy (a newly minted instructor) to demonstrate when we are confused.

The hour goes by quickly as everyone demonstrates a working knowledge of the mechanics of the move, if not complete mastery. What I like the most about taking classes at Spirals is the sense that this is a journey. There isn’t the pressure to be perfect or perform in class. It’s about learning the technique and getting to the point when all the pieces line up and fall into place. I hear the word “breakthrough” bandied around often and that’s because it really is the best way to describe the process. You observe, you attempt, you get instruction, and you try and try and try then suddenly your hand just goes to the right place, or your leg is able to find that mysterious arc that it was missing and BANG, you’ve got it.

For a test day there was so much support and encouragement from everyone in the room. No one had to fail for someone else to win, quite the contrary, we wanted everyone to pass so they could come along for the next step in the journey. At the end of the hour we all sported our yellow garters for a group photo. Some signed up for the next session while others lamented not being able to swing it. I can’t believe that two months have gone by so quickly and that it’s over. Fortunately the Progressive Series: Level Three starts next week. Same time, same place.

A Look at Progressive Series/Level 2 from Vivienne Palmer

The Progressive Series/Level 2 takes you through all the spins, tricks and transitions in our Level 2 curriculum, methodically and systematically. It's a new program that Boulder Spirals is very proud to offer. Guest blogger, Vivienne Palmer, writes about her experience from her first class in Level 1 to her fourth class (out of seven) of the Progressive Series/Level 2 in her essay "Spiraling Out of Control". To sign up for our upcoming Progressive Series/Level 2, February 11-March 31, 2012 at 11:30am, please CLICK or call Boulder Spirals at 720-989-1838.



 

SPIRALING OUT OF CONTROL

By Vivienne Palmer

Pole dancing, or Pole Fitness, has been on my mind since a friend raved about the amazing transformations she saw, in physique, self-esteem and confidence, from an S-Factor Class she observed in L.A. I’m athletic and while I’m happy with my looks, I’m bored of the gym routine I dutifully bang out six days a week. Like almost every woman I know, there’s something fascinating about the prospect of learning how to pole dance, maybe because it’s a little taboo. But then there’s this other part that is reticent to try because, to quote Ryan Gosling’s character from Crazy, Stupid Love, “The war between the sexes is over. We won the second women started doing pole dancing for exercise.”

I’m not one to admit defeat but I’m also not one to give up something before I even try it.

I’ve never been a shrinking violet and I’m usually the first to wear something revealing if I think I can get away with it, so I’m not daunted by the exhibitionism of pole dancing, or the performance aspect. However, it still took me about seven years to finally get around to taking my first class. Having two kids has a way of setting one’s plans back.

Day One: Beginning Pole

My first experience at Boulder Spirals was a beginning level class that consisted of me and a couple of women redeeming a Groupon. Always one for research, I Googled my instructor ahead of time and saw some images of Sasha Viers, owner of Boulder Spirals and my soon-to-be instructor. I have to be inspired by my instructors and Sasha looked like she could inspire me. Armed with a preconception of who my instructor would be (young, childless, most likely a former stripper – clearly I am as guilty of stereotyping as the next persona), I showed up in the requisite tank top and shorts but felt overdressed and bloated standing next to Sasha. Girl owns it.

Sasha quickly introduced herself started out with a warm-up routine of arm circles, isolations, core-strengthening moves and modified yoga positions. I had my eye on the clock and noted with some dismay that this was taking up a good deal of allotted one-hour class. We got down to business with a body wave which felt awkward but came together when Sasha put on an old-school Massive Attack song which gave me the sense that musically speaking, we could get along.

We spent a solid five minutes body waving from crouching to standing and working up a good deal of effort in the meantime. Sasha said, “This is way more fun than crunches” and I had to agree. Eager to get my feet off the ground, I was psyched to try our first trick: grip the pole one hand above the other at eye level. Hold on tight and lift up one leg, then the other, now put your feet down. Sounds easy right? Only one word was going through my head: RESPECT.  This simple move, a galaxy away from the mind-boggling tricks I watched on Youtube, was at the outer edge of my ability and I’m no slouch.

Day Two: First Class of Level 1-2 Progressive Series

I brought a friend to the first day of Level 1-2 Progressive Series. The class was overfull (my friend didn’t register ahead of time, her bad) and had to share a pole with me. After the standard warm-up, Sasha re-visited the Booty Bump and the Speed Bump I learned previously, got our feet off the ground with a simple fireman’s hold, and taught us the Girl-On-Top spin and the Stripper’s Strut. To leave us with something to look forward to, Sasha demonstrated a Front Hook spin and walked us through it.

First, I have to say that watching Sasha move is like watching a bird catching an updraft, or maybe a minnow gliding in a lazy current. She’s lithe and incredibly slender. If not for her sensuous movement, she is almost childlike. Her spins float and her hands barely seem to grip the pole. She is the picture of effortless grace. That said, I got one doozy of a bruise on my shin from violently rushing the pole in an attempt to get some momentum up.

The next day I deflected questions about said bruise by claiming my husband kicked me in the shins. I want to get good at the pole before people start asking questions and demanding a demonstration. Meanwhile I discovered that my hooping instructor is a mutual friend with Sasha and I learned that she has a small child. I am not sure whether to be encouraged or dispirited to know she came to this with the same challenges as me. On the one hand, if she can do it, so can I. On the other hand, I don’t have an excuse if I can’t hack it. Driven much? You bet.

Day Three: Second Class of Level 1-2 Progressive Series

My friend dropped out due to time constraints but I stayed on, resolved to give it the old college try. I am determined by nature and aware of how learning curves work. I figured if I could apply consistent effort, I might not embarrass myself for much longer. It was encouraging to see familiar faces yet I still felt self-conscious, which isn’t a normal feeling for me. I am known for my self-deprecating humor, for being the first person on the dance floor and the class-clown.

This class consisted of learning three basic variations of the Front Hook spin. Then we learned how to climb the pole, which got me exactly two feet off the ground and in a world of hurt. Throughout the class Sasha worked from student to student, spotting and giving advice on technique. I pried a little into Sasha’s background and was a tad disappointed (and chastened) to learn that Sasha was not a former stripper (because I love a sordid past), but had a background in modern dance, gyrotonics and yoga. The truth be told, it shows in her teaching style. She is methodical and balanced, with a strong emphasis on form, safety and technique. There is nothing informal about her approach. I’m not exactly young so I have a healthy fear of injury and will go to great lengths to prevent it. I’m glad that I have an instructor who feels the same way.

My original dismay at the amount of time spent stretching and strengthening was replaced with gratitude. Sasha clearly understands that people new to pole dancing have to build strength and stamina. She has us practice moves but not to the point of complete frustration-plus-fatigue fueled failure. This is very important because it kept me from flaming out too early.

Day Four: Open Pole

I dropped in on an open-pole session that consisted of lots of stretching and watching more accomplished performers practice for the upcoming showcase. Sasha kindly walked me through pole climbing and spins, which I worked on until my body cried “Uncle!” I got in about 15 minutes of actual practice which didn’t seem like much until I took the next class.

Day 5: Third Class of Level 1-2 Progressive Series

My seemingly unproductive open-pole session actually made a difference! Sasha commented that I had softened my approach to the pole, which I took as a compliment. The spins I struggled with came easier and, while I didn’t float effortlessly, I felt like I wasn’t hanging on for dear life and unceremoniously dropping myself on my knees. I was also able to climb halfway up the pole.

Sasha worked on our floor moves and taught us how to take a spin to the ground, roll it over, do some flirtatious leg moves and bring us back to standing and voila, we had a mini-combination. Add some music and now I was feeling damn sexy and a little bit good at this. We reviewed the three front hook spins and I felt like I was finally getting the hang of things.

As I write this, I am aware of the various tender spots on my body, namely my calves, tops of my feet (from pole climbing) and behind my knees. Maybe it is my age (I just turned 40), or my athletic zeal for muscling through the movement (I’m working on my finesse) but I’m feeling like it was pretty smart to start this during the winter months when I can hide my bruises behind long pants and tights. Like any athlete, there is a part of me that relishes my battle bruises and sore muscles. I worked for these and I am using parts of my body that I’ve never used before. I am also hoping that come springtime my legs will be as unblemished as my technique.

Day Six: Open Pole

After approaching the general manager at my gym about installing a pole in a corner of an unused racquetball court (and getting totally shot down), I decided that I’m going to have to take advantage of as many of open pole sessions as possible. I find it inspiring to be around more experienced dancers, and that would be everyone but me. Some of the faces looked familiar to me and although most, but not all, of the women appeared to be college age, I am eager to perform with them in a showcase one day. There is a small bulletin board near the entrance to the studio that advertises the services of various choreographers who can help with routines. It is encouraging to know that I don’t have to figure out a whole routine on my own. Nine times out of ten I’ll enlist the best help I can find because I believe in killing it. This gets me psyched.

Day Seven: Fourth Class of Level 1-2 Progressive Series

We reviewed our Front Hook spins and started in on the basic back spins and learned how to link the two together. Between all our “big” tricks, Sasha taught smaller transition moves, both standing and on the floor, that can work to make sexy little combination.

Linking moves together elevated the pole from simply trying to master a trick to doing something creative, personal and dancer-like. Sasha broke down how to execute a full back-bend to the floor that took it from being a total no-go in my mind to something completely doable. The great moment really came when she turned down the lights, put on some music and encouraged us to freestyle for the last five minutes of class. For a few minutes I almost lost myself in the movement that came easier and felt sensual and empowering.

I’m still trying to figure out how to approach talking about my new passion. I don’t want to be snippy with people about it, but I’m getting a little tired of the smirks and the jokes about my “second job”. I challenge anyone to try it and not walk away with a deep respect for the athleticism and commitment of an accomplished pole dancer: stripper or otherwise. So if I’m unlikely to blurt out in a mixed crowd that I am taking these classes, it’s because I want to get so good at it that I can wipe the smirk off anyone’s face who thinks it’s easy and for layabouts. When I’m that good, there will be a pole in my living room.

Part II of Spiraling Out of Control coming up in March! Stay tuned!

Wax On/Wax Off

I've lived in New York, Miami Beach, Las Vegas, Santa Fe and now Lafayette, CO. I've pole danced in all those places, and therefore, have gotten Brazilian waxed in all those cities. While I may not be an expert, I know a thing or two about ripping hair off of sensitive body parts.

It was the mid '90s when I first received a Brazilian wax. As a matter of fact, it wasn't even called a "Brazilian"--nobody performed that service so it didn't even have a name yet. Suzanne, a pre-Goth chick working at Salon 123 on Fifth Avenue was discovered by my friend, Kina. I had never done any waxing whatsoever so I had nothing to compare it to. She was serious and intense and reminded me of Parker Posey wearing hardcore black stomper boots under her white aesthetician coat. I was intrigued by her long, jet black hair and perfectly blunt bangs. She was also quite an efficient waxer. I was in and out in 25 minutes. Salon 123 was a converted loft on the 2nd floor with 12 foot arched windows between every hair station and beautiful, creaky dark wood floors. It was a Greenwich Village/Chelsea clientele who apparently never waxed because while the rest of the salon was fairly luxe, the waxing room was barely bigger than the table it held. I called up one day asking for Suzanne, who always booked her own appointments. Unfortunately Suzanne was out, and the following conversation was...painful:
     Me: I need to book an appointment with Suzanne. She knows me.
     Her: What is it for?
     Me: (squirming) Um...she knows.
     Her: (immediately snotty) Well I can't make an appointment unless I know how long it'll take!
     Me: It's...a bikini wax...a FULL bikini wax...
     Her: What the hell does that mean?
     Me: (extremely agitated by now) She takes all the hair off my ¥%**y!
     Her: (meekly)...well you don't have to be rude about it...
As I said: nobody was doing it and nobody was getting it done then.

Miami was the exact opposite. There were waxing salons on every block and every place offered a Brazilian...for $20. The ladies were lovely, but clearly came from the Grip & Rip school of beauty. Some were more careful than others, but practically every time I got waxed, I came home with slightly burned skin in a very delicate area. I shrugged it off: it was pretty much what I'd expect for $20.

One would think that with all the showgirls and strippers in Vegas that there'd be a plethora of salons at extremely competitive prices. Perhaps there were, but I never found them. The one place I went to charged close to $80 and perhaps to offset the cost, I was given a hot pink thong as a parting gift. I did find one aesthetician that I liked, but she had plans to move out of state in the next few months. FYI: turns out that all the professional dancers had their hair permanently removed by laser. It seems that the price of the laser procedures would end up costing less than waxing for eternity. Makes sense, but who knew?

I did not hold out any hope that there would be any waxing options in the marijuana smoking, granola eating, Birkenstock wearing City Different. I was pleasantly surprised to find a salon close to the end of our 6-month stint in Santa Fe. The aesthetician was wonderful but the price tag was exorbitant. It was enough to make me consider going to aesthetician school and opening up my own waxing establishment.

So when we got to Boulder (yet another hippie-dippie town)  I was hopeful, but not expectant. My husband thoughtfully bought me a gift certificate to a chichi spa that our neighbor said was well-known in town. I was shocked that the receptionist was so condescending, unhelpful, and resentful. I almost left before the service even began. The spa was blissful but the waxing itself was only serviceable. The second time I visited the spa, the receptionist was new with a slightly better attitude, but the wax resulted in my very first ingrown hairs. For all the time I had been getting waxed, I had never suffered ingrowns or even irritation. As well, upon closer inspection, I found at least five missed hairs. I was beyond annoyed and heading towards desperate. As a pole dance instructor, I couldn't very well sashay around with a "situation" going on down there.

After two short flights of stairs, I opened the door to Waxing The City. I peered down the long, bleached hallway, and the receptionist welcomed me with a greeting and a smile. I asked if they took walk-ins and she replied sincerely: "we try to". She asked me if there was at least 2-4 weeks of growth (to which the answer was a firm "yes") and then went to see if anyone was free.  The waiting room was bright and pleasant, and before I could even settle down with October's Allure, I was asked to fill out an information sheet. There was a thorough checklist asking if I were on certain medications or pregnant, etc. It was professional and very appreciated by this particular client. Summer came in to introduce herself and lead me to a room. After explaining what she wanted me to do (again, very much appreciated because it left no room for wondering how much clothing to take off or which way I should face on the table), I requested a pillow because I was battling a mild attack of vertigo. She returned with a bolster normally used to prop oneself up in bed. I was grateful not to have to lay flat on my back.

Summer, a genuinely kind woman, chatted easily with me as she worked adeptly with the hard wax. The temperature was perfect--I never felt in danger of being scalded or skinned. She rolled up a towel to support my injured hip and I relaxed into the table. She revealed that she'd been an aesthetician for 13 years and had, up until recently, been traveling to Texas twice a month to work there. Clearly she was in demand and excellent at what she does in order for her company to fly her around, rather than merely hire another waxer. She worked quickly yet unhurriedly, casual in manner but extremely professional. Before I knew it, one side was bare and she was leaning in with her tweezers and lighted magnifying device.

Waxing The City has three tiers of "cerologist", their own term for waxing expert. The tier determines the pricing but is not necessarily an indication of expertise--it only means the amount of time the cerologist has been working at Waxing The City. When I checked out, I noticed there was no line on the receipt for a tip. Summer told me that tipping is not allowed, but that if I were happy with the service, they would like it if I would recommend them to a friend. I hope a blog counts!

A word of warning: Summer only works at Waxing The City in Boulder two days per month. The rest of the time she's in Denver. I really lucked out!

Glass Houses

When I first got interested in pole dancing, I spent countless hours at the computer watching YouTube videos. There were endless amounts of vids out there ranging from the novice to the industry dancer/semi-professional (there weren’t any real professional pole artists at the time like there are today). I was fascinated by each and every one of them. I identified with the beginners and loved watching them work out the same tricks I was trying to work out. I was in awe of the advanced dancers and favorited many of their “blooper” videos. My husband had to force me to turn off the computer and get into bed at night.

As I took more classes and learned more technique, somehow my views began to shift. Now that I knew what I was looking at, my eye became more critical. I gasped when I saw girls kick up into inversions, or monkey feet during pole climbs. I groaned out loud to see "wrong" arms, "wrong" legs, "wrong" music. (Yes, yes, I know I sound like a truly awful human being, but I'm trying to be really honest so stick with me to the end, ok?) I was tacitly vicious, for I never spoke my thoughts out loud, nor shared them in written comments. I sat smugly at home in smarmy judgment. (Can you see where this is leading?)

One evening I attended a student showcase at the studio where I took classes in Nevada. The registration deadline to perform had passed by the time I started at the studio, but I was a regular in the mornings and learned quite a bit in a relatively short period of time. It was very easy for me to be upset that I had missed the deadline. My friends consoled me, patting me on the shoulder and reassuring me that there would be another chance to perform soon. But inside, I was silently relieved, almost giddy really, that I was in the audience and not up on stage.

Which leads me to the turning point in this little story. I stared wide-eyed at a dancer who was attempting to sit up onto the pole from a headstand. She was clearly stuck and struggling and I was embarrassed for her. I glanced around at the audience, which consisted mainly of friends and family of the dancers.  I watched a woman clap her hands over her mouth, her own body twitching as if she wanted to jump up onto the stage to help the upside-down girl. A glance in the other direction brought me to another audience member muttering "come on, you can do it..." It seemed like everyone was cheering her on. No one looked away as if it were a humiliating scene not to be witnessed. Everyone was on her side and everyone wanted her to succeed.

I sat in my bubbling hot shame, wishing someone could have heard my previous thoughts so they could slap me hard across the face like I deserved. There I was, judging that dancer for not having the "perfect" sit up from a headstand, when I didn't even have the balls to even get up there to dance! I thought about all those videos I watched and all those girls I had criticized without ever having the guts to post a single video myself. It takes a thick skin to put a video up on a public forum like You Tube or Facebook, or to compete or even participate in a student showcase. Not only do you have to bear the opinions of narcissistic jerks like myself, you also need to allow yourself to be vulnerable to the process of creation. Those girls had the courage that I didn't, and until I found the stones to put myself out there like they did, I hadn't earned the privilege of uttering one single word--unless it was a word of unconditional support.

Several weeks ago, Boulder Spirals hosted our very first September Student Showcase. The girls did everything themselves, from choosing music to choreographing to rehearsing. I was ecstatic that girls brand new to pole opted to perform. Some asked me if you had to be advanced to dance in the showcase. I told them that the showcase was for any student who wanted to perform. If you had something you wanted to express, then you were welcome to do so, regardless of whether you were doing Russian splits or simply walking around the pole for four minutes. We were lucky enough to have professional pole artist, Holly 'Honey' Miely, close the showcase with a breath-taking, stellar free-style routine that left the audience on their feet, screaming and clapping. Stunning? Yes, absolutely! But it was no more impressive and inspiring than our incredible and courageous girls who signed up to perform in the Student Showcase.
Bravo, ladies, bravo!

DollHouse, dollhouse, doll house, the doll's house?

DollHouse, Dollhouse, doll house, the doll’s house...it seems like you can’t spit these days without hitting a pole studio with one of those names. How do I know this? Because I am co-owner of one and the spit is hitting the fan!

Ms M and I christened our studio, DollHouse Pole Studio, from Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House. We saw Nora, the heroine, not only as a frivolous self-centered woman who is second-class to her husband, Torvald. We recognized glimmers of her self-realization, which are the roots to empowerment, whether the form it manifests is socially acceptable or not. We wanted to champion her innate understanding of her sensual power over Torvald, rather than vilify it. Every woman’s journey to find her strength is unique and Ms M and I make no judgements on the different routes taken. The concept for DollHouse Pole Studio was never about ‘objectifying women’ but giving women a safe environment to explore those paths. Our dolls aren’t fragile or helpless or only to be viewed from behind a glass case. Our dolls are courageous, brilliant, able to laugh at themselves, and always ready to encourage one another. This is the DollHouse that we hoped to create.

Before opening our doors in March, Ms M and I did a quick internet search and discovered one studio with a similar name residing in a town several states over, as well as a burlesque troupe located in another coutry. Six months later, two more pole dance studios have cropped up in the US with names almost exactly the same as ours. Again, those other studios were nowhere nearby, but suddenly we were uneasy. Had we been unknowingly sucked into the collective consciousness of pole studio owners?! Here we’d been mistakenly believing that our identity was unique, only to find that we were as common as a Prius owner in Boulder.

We sat down and did a lot of soul searching. We didn’t want to be lumped in with the other dance studios, nor did we want to be necessarily associated with the zillions of xxx venues that use some form of ‘doll+house’. Our business plan changed, grew and expanded, and we clearly saw that we, as a studio, had to follow suit. As Summer drifts contentedly into Autumn, Ms M and I would like to invite you to embrace the transitions that fill the air. We recently put up 8 new stainless steel PoleDanzer poles; we are currently stocking our shelves with new apparel and new shoes; we’ve got new classes, new teachers, new apprentices; and soon we will be offering a brand new Teacher Training Program.

You see, we realised that we are unique, regardless of what our name might be. Our identity wasn’t tied in with words. We saw that the studio was no longer a tiny idea that we birthed earlier this year.  It had grown and matured before our very eyes, due to the love given to it by you, our clients. It is your commitment to yourselves and your support of us, that fuels the studio.

Without “you” there is no “us”.

Please help us celebrate our new name: Boulder Spirals!

A Doll Dances

Change prickles the air all around me and I squirm uncomfortably. I’ve been trained to cultivate balance, to inhale and exhale, but I fail miserably as I dart from one activity to the next. I don’t feel like I’m breathing at all and my eyeballs ache from tension. I can’t concentrate and I want to throw something hard at the wall. There’s nothing that I am able to control and so I feel helpless. And I hate feeling helpless.

I’m playing a waiting game. Waiting to hear back from so-and-so, which effects the decision I’m waiting on from so-and-so, as well as waiting for work to be done, for choices to be made, for actions to begin. And so I am biting my nails, gritting my teeth, and pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. Still, I cannot make anything happen yet.

I search schedule after schedule of dance studios. I want to take class and work and sweat. I need to get my endorphins to release. If I’m going to have to struggle mentally, I might as well do it physically, too. But none of the times work out for me and I end up frustrated and irritated.

And so I dance alone. I choose music that is moody, indecisive, yearning and melancholy. It reflects my simmering kettle of emotions. There’s not enough heat to boil, but there is enough to agitate. My anxiety is tangible, leaving a flat metal taste in my mouth. Perhaps it’s related to the lead that I feel in my chest. I force my hands to uncurl from the fists they are automatically making and begin walking around the pole. I let the music move my body. There is anguish in my movement, tense recoil in my muscles. I don’t worry about the tricks, but I push my lines further and further. The angles that I normally make become more elongated as I reach as far as I can away from my center. I don’t think. I just am.

A Darn Good Post from A (Male) Guest Bloggist

Why every woman should take pole fitness:

Ok, to start this off on the right foot; I’ll just get it out there that I’m a guy, and no guy has any business ever giving women advice or telling them what is right. Just the fact it comes from a guy means its bs and he’s obviously wrong. So stop reading now.

I said stop reading.

Ok, if you’re still here you don’t follow instructions very well. I am going to voice my opinion anyway and likely be damned for it. So read at your own risk.

I’m a guy who loves to study women. Yes, in every creepy weird way I love to try to figure out what makes them tick. I know there is no answer; I know any answer is subject to change at any moment but for some reason it is all fascinating to me . I love the 1001 ideas of “what a woman really is “ inside every woman’s brain, all at the same time and the huge gap between those ideas and the reality of what women actually do and actually are. Women have a self-image that is constantly shifting within American society and their own personal self-image that is sometimes in direct conflict with society’s view and somehow in the moment it’s still the right way to be.  Sound confusing. I’m guessing it is and I’m only peeking through one window, who knows what’s really going on? 

So I guess I had better get to the point. Every woman should take pole fitness. Why? Look most women in the United States are constantly bombarded with images of what “sexy is” and why they are not. You allways having some short coming being pointed out to you by some magazine or commercial. You have to have “X” to be more perfect. I’ll let you in on 3 secrets. First, every guy knows the sexiest thing is confidence.  It’s just that simple. When you are confident everyone wants to be around you. Second everyone can be confident. If your not born with it you can learn it. Get naked, look in the mirror and say, “This is what I have!” and be truly happy with what you have. It’s freaking special there is only one of you in the universe, and there will never be another. Which brings me to secret #3: someone out there thinks the worst part of your body is more than just awesome but likely has some fetish about it. 

Years ago all women thought huge asses were bad. Now thanks to J-Lo and Kim Kardashian, anyone with a huge ass now carries it with tremendous pride. And if you missed the memo, get out there and be proud of your huge ass, ‘cause most men love it. One personal example, my own wife is a 99.5 pound Asian (who have their own fan club following them) was living in South Beach. She loved the attention of being the "the token Asian girl" around all her gay friends, BUT; when she got pregnant (not a little preggers, I mean the two, maybe three chins and the funny waddle going on) the Latin guys went crazy. It was the first time she had guys whistling at her walking down the street. When she thought she was at her worst,  there were still guys more than willing to flirt and be, what I would call, our normal idiot selves. The reality is: for every body type there is some group of men who would put you on a pedestal. Did you know there is a fetish for almost every part of a woman, and usually it’s some part they try to hide? The muffin top is the Holy Grail to some men, the flabby part on the underside of your arms, drives some men nuts. Hey-- you with the crooked toes, there is a group of men dying to kiss and honor your feet. Really, all us guys are not that hard to find, you just have to learn to be confident with what you have and suddenly you will find hundreds of them. And like your friends say, don’t take the first guy who loves your creepy toes, there are others out there. (Trust me, really!)

Which brings me back to the point: you need somewhere to practice your confidence. There is no better community than a place where other women are just learning to move their bodies in that same way, too. Did your mom really teach you how to walk in heels? When did you ever practice being sexy? Where do you practice the wink and the partial lip bite (god that’s hot!). Where do you get to practice saying, “This is who I am and screw anyone who disagrees.”?  Pole studios are the only place I know of where women can learn and practice these things, plus get in shape, and make some great friends. A pole studio offers all this and more.

Look, as a guy I have a vested interest in seeing women be happy. The happier women are surprisingly the more things in the world are not my fault and I get to have more fun. So there is no reason for me to lie or make dumb suggestions.

I’ll be brutally honest. Your mom lied. Bad girls do have more fun.  Society lied--there are no barriers or lines in the sand. You can be a great mom, a dirty slut, and a successful businesswoman and not be a bitch. You can be a dom and a sub in any situation and change your mind at any time, and still be in total control. We think in black and white terms, yes and no answers. We all know reality isn’t that simple, and neither are people--especially women. We are moving towards a society where roles are not defined by genitals and where you put them, and it’s going to be as confusing as hell for a while. So put on some lipstick, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

There are skills you know you don’t have. There is a level of confidence you wish you could attain. A pole studio is a fun safe place to practice, play, succeed and even sometimes fail. When you do occasionally fail you will have tons of support on how to get back up and try again.  Gyms and diets are about making a new you. Pole fitness is about finding the you that is already there and just helping you believe in her.

One class is all it takes; trust me you will get hooked. 

A Dancer of a Certain Age

The first pole dancing videos I had seen on YouTube was of TaraKarina, the Vertical Ballerina. I remember being shocked to discover that she practiced 9 hours per day. As I took a closer look at her information, I realized that she was in her early twenties at the time, and that she was using pole dancing as therapy for her agoraphobia. I justified that I couldn’t possibly devout more than a 1 hour class per week, due to my husband, my toddler, teaching Gyrotonic and Gyrokinesis, as well as ordinary day-to-day household stuff. I protested that I was very, very busy, but the major factor that prevented me from swinging around the pole for hours on end, was the fact that I was fast approaching the big 4-0, and my body simply wouldn’t allow me to do so.

For my age, physically I was in moderate shape. Before my pregnancy, I had a strict and demanding yoga practice. Three days after learning I was already 9.5 weeks pregnant, I was in a scooter crash that left me bed-ridden for several weeks. The baby was fine, but I was going mental. I had gone from daily Mysore practice and teaching 3-5 yoga classes a day, to laying still and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathons. I recovered, but never had the opportunity to regain all my strength back. So when I began pole dancing, I was not at the peak of fitness and my endurance was extremely low.

There is a tremendous excitement in learning anything new, and pole dancing is no exception. Many self-taught pole dancers tend to rush into learning new tricks, as there is no one there to stop them or correct them. I was fortunate enough to have a pole studio nearby and their curriculum only allowed for 3-4 spins per week. When we moved and I started at a different studio in a whole different part of the country, the instructor who taught the one class I could regularly attend saw that I had solid fundamentals, was fairly flexible, and was light enough to invert easily. She excitedly began showing me how to flip up, and unfortunately, her teaching relied heavily upon repetition. I don’t think she once asked me my age, but later on, I figured out that she was at least a decade younger than I was. She meant well, but I suffered my first injury with her that lingered for almost 4 ridiculously long months. I kicked myself for being so stupid. I had previous completed a certification in beginning pole dance and I used to regularly remind my yoga students to always listen to their own bodies, not push too hard, and to leave any ego at the door. I was properly chastised and hung my head in shame.

I switched to another studio, a little wiser, a little older, and a lot more cautious in my body. I took a lot of beginner level classes because they gave me a chance to heal, as well as develop my strength in a regimented way. Most of the other students were around college-aged, and because they were young and unburdened with injury, they eagerly devoured new trick after new trick. They never had the need to warm up, nor did they ever learn the actual technique of a move, but rather the gross instruction of how to get into it. I winced every time I saw one of these girls fling themselves into an inversion and kept waiting for a cry of pain that never happened. I was amazed. It was the raw power of youth that protected them from getting hurt. Was I perhaps more than a bit jealous? Oh yes! I would fondly reminisce about the “good old days, twenty years ago”, when I could do those kinds of gymnastics without a second thought. (Or when it didn’t take 3 full days to recover from 1 evening of drinking…) But I was also grateful for where I was in my life, in the use of my body as an expression of dance.  I clearly saw the distinction between how I did a fireman spin, for example, and how a younger girl did hers. I was building technique whereas she was impatiently waiting to perform the next trick.

There is an integrity that exists now in my almost 43-year-old body, due to the safe progression I’ve exposed it to while learning how to pole dance. My dancing is slow, controlled, and well…mature. I know which muscles to engage and which to relax. I’ve experienced enough in my life to know to use the grace and power in an arm gesture to tell a story, rather than rely on the wow-factor of a big, splashy trick. I no longer suffer the big injuries that come with improper technique, but do occasionally become afflicted with the little injuries that happen when one gets older. These I accept as nature, instead of something I've tried to do against nature. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t watch a fantastic pole video starring a phenomenal 20-something year old and feel the dull slap of envy. When I was younger, I would probably have desperately wished to have been her. Nowadays I'm pretty happy with how I am, but I do wish I had her ability/agility. I am not afraid to tackle the advanced tricks--I'm just prepared that it will take me a lot longer to nail them.

Right now I am struggling with the Plus Sign, a move that my 19-year-old friend performs with stunning ease and a lightening bolt of pizzazz. I’m taking my time with this one and I’m fine with that. I don’t care whether I get it tomorrow or by the time I’m 48. I have no time limit or expiration date.

My Gripe About Grip

Fact: The human body has millions of sweat glands, and more than half of them are located in the hands. When the body becomes agitated – through physical activity, extreme temperatures, or stress – the sweat glands release sweat to help cool the body back down to its optimal temperature range.

General Observation: Women new to pole often confuse the combination of adrenaline (which results in sweaty palms) and lack of pole-specific strength with the obsessive need for grip aid to stay on the pole.

Time and time again in studios all over the country, I’ve seen well-intentioned instructors supply a brand new student with every grip aid possible. In my humble experience, unless the student has the medical condition, hyperhidrosis, or excessive sweating, it’s not that she lacks grip in her hands, it is usually that she lacks strength in her hands. For example, I was helping out another instructor who was teaching beginners and one student kept complaining about her sweaty hands. The Wonderful Teacher gave her a grip aid. New Student tried the one spin that they had previously been taught, and declared flatly: “It doesn’t work.” When I asked New Student to wash her hands, I took the opportunity to clean her pole. I was shocked by the extreme sticky-ness.  I wrapped my hands in a baseball grip (with the towel between my hands and the pole) and easily pulled myself into a pole pull-up from a dead-hang. New Student returned from the bathroom and happily finished her class, but I’m sure she now firmly believes that she will need “professional strength” grip aid in order to pole dance.

Unproven General Fact: If you were to continue to practice pole dancing with regularity, you will get stronger in your body and in your hands, your palms will get dryer, you will sweat less and therefore, your natural grip will improve.

DollHouse Pole Studio carries two kind of grip aid at the moment: Dry Hands and Grrrip. Dry Hands is a liquid that dries to a faint white, slightly chalky substance. The website makes the claim: “So effective, it actually repels water.” The Grrrip spray is advertised as a “Dry non-sticky and non-tacky grip and hold enhancer.” Both are available for use in class, as are Wet Ones wipes, spray bottles of water and alcohol, and microfiber towels.

When necessary, I will direct Level 1 students to use the Grrrip spray on their hands if the normal cleaning, then drying with a microfiber towel does not suffice. Grrrip is probably the most mild commercial grip aid that I’ve encountered. While it keeps your hands “dry”, it still allows you to practice spins. Some overzealous students will reach for the strongest grip aid and then tear the skin off their palms during spins. I usually will go no further to intervene. (Ah, but there was the time I bought Football Receiver gloves for a student who professed to being “super sweaty”. I also bought for her liquid hair spray and shaving gel just in case the gloves didn’t work…) A little FYI for those who think I sound like a Dragon Teacher: once you progress to learning aerial holds and moves, then I’m all for grip aids!

So here are a few tips that might help enhance your experience in pole class:

1) Wash your hands before class:

New students, no matter how clearly it is stated in our website, will inevitably come to class with lotion on their bodies and therefore on their palms. I understand the aridness of the climate—I used to live in Santa Fe, NM and Las Vegas, NV before moving here—but please, please, please, wash your hands and rinse thoroughly before even touching a pole. Even though you can’t feel the lotion on your hands, the minute you start to perspire, it’ll be all over your pole. You will not be able to properly grip, you will be upset, and you will walk away erroneously thinking that pole dancing is “not for me”.

2) Clean your pole:

Hold a white hand towel open in your hand and spray the alcohol solution into it. Then wipe down your pole. There are two reasons why we ask students to do it this way. One, if you spray directly onto the pole, the mist gets all over the floor and if you’re wearing 6-inch heels, that is the last thing you need to be worrying about, and Two, the alcohol will also end up drying out your palms to some extent. If you’d rather not share towels, please help yourself to Wet Ones. When your pole is free of grit, wipe it dry with a microfiber towel. Mary Ellyn Weissman of Empowerment Through Exotic Dance recently introduced me to these little pieces of heaven. They miraculously add a touch of tackiness to chrome. I’m not sure how, but they work!

3) If you use grip aid, please read the directions:

I like Dry Hands. It’s my brand of choice. I’ve used many different grip aids and have always come back to Dry Hands. It’s not perfect—it will definitely wear off and you will have to reapply especially if gets very hot in the studio. How to use: a) shake the bottle, b) pour a nickel-sized drop into your palm, c) gently pat your hands together as if you were politely clapping to get the product on both palms, d) LEAVE IT ALONE FOR AT LEAST 20 SECONDS. Dry Hands needs to air dry or else it will not work. I’ve seen impatient students rub and rub and rub their hands together and then jump on the pole. Guess what? It’s no longer on your hands anymore—you’ve rubbed it away. If you need to reapply, go back to Tip #1 to get the best results.

Personally, I think there is good reason why grip is so challenging for new polers. They are not yet conditioned to the rigors of pole dancing and must move safely through that process. They must gradually build up muscles and work on dance vocabulary to get to the advanced tricks. Sweaty hands are nature’s way of telling us to slow down and be present before looking towards the future.

Does Size Really Matter?

The first time I held it in my hand, I was laughably inexperienced, but I remember thinking:”…eh, what’s the big deal?” I wasn’t terribly impressed considering all the hype. When I had it between my thighs, I was honestly frightened. It didn’t feel right or substantial. It actually felt…dangerous. I immediately jumped off. I was definitely not a fan of the 45mm pole.

In the United States, the commercial poles that are available are of 2 different diameters: 50mm and 45mm (apparently in Australia, the 38mm is popular, but it has yet to debut here).  The industry standard is 50mm, which means that in most clubs that feature exotic/erotic dancers, the poles measure 50mm in diameter.  Years ago, when the only girls who knew how to pole dance were industry dancers, it made sense that the poles that began to pop up for recreational use were the same as the ones in the clubs. As pole dancing began to creep into mainstream society and competitions were developing, it was simply accepted that if you wanted to compete, you had to do so on a 50mm pole.

When I started taking classes at Pole Fitness Studio (Fawnia Dietrich’s studio) in Las Vegas, NV, most of the brass poles were 50mm, but she had installed 2 that were 45mm (rumored to be for the use of Felix Cane). Petite women often prefer the smaller pole due to a better-proportioned grip. A lot of girls at the studio began gravitating towards them. Then they started praising the magical virtues of the 45mm. According to the talk, tricks were easier to learn on the 45. Being the stubborn traditionalist, I turned my back on the 45 and stuck loyally to the 50. It was my teacher’s suggestion, while I was flailing pathetically with a trick, to give the 45 a try. I would love to report that I nailed the trick…but I didn’t…and I hardened my heart against the skinny little pole.

Almost three years later, I found myself taking the best private lesson of my life…on a 45mm Xpert X-pole with Estee Zakar. I would say that most of it was the superior instruction from Estee, but that pole was definitely my friend that afternoon! Tricks that I’d never thought I’d ever get really did seem suddenly accessible. I actually felt stronger, strangely enough. Estee assured me that the 45 was going to become the pole used future competitions. I instantly thought of my friend, Laura, who asked for my opinion on the 45 vs. 50, and I emphatically stated that I would recommend the 50. Did I give her bad advice?

In all actuality, if you learn on a 50mm pole, it’s pretty easy-peesy to switch over to a 45mm. The same cannot be said for the reverse. I can see that the first time I tried the 45 in Vegas, my hand strength was not nearly as developed as it is now.  As a matter of fact, my over-all strength, stamina, and technique were at a much lower level than today. For me, I feel like I’ve finally graduated to using the 45. But I would not have gotten to this point without using the 50. While I’m grateful to all the 50s that I’ve encountered in my life, I’m at last ready to embrace the 45. Yes ladies, it's true...size does matter.

Indomitable Dolls

Friday nights are party nights and this Friday at DollHouse Pole Studio was no exception. The Organizer and seven friends were there to help Birthday Girl celebrate in style. For 75 minutes, these sexy ladies laughed, learned pole tricks, practiced a lap dance, and then free-styled to rocking 80’s tunes. The dress code for this portion of the evening was strictly feather boas and stilettos. At my suggestion, one Guest donned a pair of our “practice” shoes and delightedly whirled around the pole in 6-inch Lucite heels worthy of Pammy Anderson. Flashing digital cameras and cell phones captured moment after moment. The ladies whooped and whistled as Birthday Girl, who later revealed to us that she has a pole at home, broke into several daring spins, showing off her skill and strength.  The temperature rose and the feathers were flying.

Ms M and I were impressed by what we saw: these women had muscles clearly defined by Yoga and/or Pilates and/or circuit training and/or running. If Birthday Girl was any indication, then most of these crazy, confident women were in or around their late 30’s to their early 40’s. Unlike parties I’ve taught where the crowd was younger, these ladies seemed very secure with themselves and where they were in their lives. Most were moms balancing a career. The energy in the room was intoxicating and extremely powerful: everyone was there to support Birthday Girl and remind her how special she is to them.

As their party at DollHouse Pole Studio drew to an end, they changed into clothes suitable for the cocktails awaiting them at a chichi lounge in Boulder. DollHouse Pole Studio does not serve alcohol and these ladies had worked up quite a thirst. While waiting for Banjo Billy’s Party Bus (http://www.banjobilly.com/), Organizer confided in us that Birthday Girl had been going through a stressful time. She said that it was the first time in a long time that Birthday Girl was relaxed and happy.

I was suddenly reminded of the potency of friendship amongst women. Yes, there is that stereotype that females can be catty and stab one another in the back (i.e. any of the Real Housewives), but our girlfriends are our true lifelines who can often understand us when our spouses can’t. They will listen to us rant and rave, without offering a “solution” to our problems. We can discuss deeply personal issues as well as happily indulge in some mind-soothing retail therapy together.

We waved goodbye to the Party Bus and proceeded to sweep up the feathers and put our studio back in order. “Don’t you think that they’d be such a fun group to go out with?” Ms M asked. I smiled and nodded. I had been thinking the exact same thing.

Playing in Someone Else's DollHouse

     My sisters love to ski. Their husbands love to ski. My nieces and nephew love to ski. Me? I'm lukewarm about it, at best. My husband enjoys snowboarding, but not enough right now to do it more than a couple of times per year. And because we're not very enthusiastic about the sport, our 5-year-old son has the same response. Despite this, we still look forward to our annual family ski trip to Park City, UT. It's a 4 or 5 day vacation where the cousins get to know each other again and play, and the adults eat (quite well I might add as my sister is an astonishing cook) and drink, and drink, and drink. This year, I decided beforehand that I was only going to ski (ie. fall down a lot) only once, and use the rest of my time to take classes at Studio Soiree in Salt Lake City.

     Several days before the trip, I checked out the Studio Soiree website to see what their schedule looked like. I had seen some Soiree girls at Jamilla Deville’s workshop in Vegas three years back and was astonished by their strength and dedication, so I knew that Studio Soiree wasn’t one of those places that only taught girls to pose against the pole.

     I was pleasantly surprised to see that they offer a class in Park City at Park City Yoga, but unfortunately it was not during the days of our ski trip.  Salt Lake City is about 35 minutes or so from Park City and I was so excited about taking a pole class from a new teacher that the distance wasn’t an issue. I was determined to make use of my limited time there so I chose three classes: Intermediate Pole Dance Fitness, Open Soiree, and Intermediate Fundamentals. I was particularly looking forward to the last two classes as they were taught by Lizz, the founder of Studio Soiree. I had heard many wonderful things about her. Their online web scheduler wouldn’t allow me, as a new student of the studio, to register for an intermediate level class, so I ended up calling Studio Soiree and speaking with a very nice person who overrode the system and made the reservations.

     The day the three families arrived at the rental house in Park City, Bean jumped off the upper level of the bunk bed and hurt his foot. Dr Sister’s diagnosis was most likely some soft tissue damage with a tiny possibility of a hairline fracture. Lawyer Sister stood on hand in case we needed legal advice (just joking!). Bean’s ski trip was over. And so was my eagerly awaited sojourn to Studio Soiree. The kids were supposed to attend ski school from 9am to 3:30pm while the grown ups had the whole day to ski or ride. Since Bean couldn’t ski, someone had to stay with him at home.

     Bean’s situation had not improved by the morning so I went about frantically trying to cancel my class reservations. On the Studio Soiree website, they recommend sending an email rather than calling, so to cover my bases, I called as well as emailed. I explained to them what had happened, apologized profusely and asked that someone please call me back so I could give them my credit card over the phone to pay for those three late-cancels. About an hour later, Lizz called me. She was sympathetic; she kindly asked about my son; she told me that she appreciated the fact that I made several attempts to cancel; she absolutely REFUSED to accept my credit card information; and then asked if I would be interested in attending class the following day. So basically, not only did I inadvertently screw them over, they actually invited me to come into their studio. Was this a Utah thing? I mean, I did read somewhere that Utahans were overall the happiest people in the nation…

     Despite planning on getting to SLC with over an hour to spare, I ended up walking 8 blocks in the wrong direction and ran into the studio at 12 noon on the dot. I breathlessly asked if I could take care of my payment at the end of class because I was already late. The sweet woman at the desk (who turned out to be Lizz) reassured me that I wasn’t late and that, of course I could. I walked into the packed pole room and proceeded to get my butt kicked by the amazing Lorinda.

     Lorinda is a woman who commands the space around her. It’s not only her beauty or her strength or her sense of humor (all of which are quite formidable), but it’s the fact that somehow, you can tell that she actually cares about you. She made me, the new girl, feel right at home. I remember one time she laughed at me laughing at myself, which of course, made me laugh even more. Her class was extremely challenging and there were plenty of elements that I’m still trying to work through.

     After class, I thanked Lorinda for the amazing class and when she asked me where I came from, I told her about DollHouse Pole Studio. She and Lizz comp-ed my class, gave me their email addresses and sincerely urged me to contact them if ever I had any questions about the business of running a studio. Lizz is the one of the founders of The Pole Fitness Association and one of her missions is to unite and empower studio owners. She is smart and savvy and truly understands the joys and the rigors of being involved in the pole community.

     I have never felt more welcome at any pole studio than I did at Studio Soiree. Lizz and Lorinda taught me that it’s possible to be graceful and compassionate yet still run a successful business. Their students are fiercely loyal and devoted to the art of pole. It seems that they’ve created a sense of friendship and sisterhood that has given the studio a unique personality. I can only hope that DollHouse will blossom in a similar way. I have the hopeful feeling that this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.