Dance Me to the End of Love

In an attempt to add a little culture and meaning to my life, I attended Le Gala des Etoiles at Place Des Arts tonight. As with all "classical" events in this venue, I am forever amazed by the amount of money some people make and the plastic surgery they can afford. "Beauty is only skin deep" is not a motto popular among this well to do societal set. Still, despite the blue haired matrons who couldn't stop commenting on every move as if they had never seen a body in motion, and the noisy, Botoxed, bejewelled, wives of the local succesful cardiologist set, it was an enjoyable experience. I was floored by two dancers in particular. Ilhan Karabacak is an androgynous marvel despite his masculine physique. His piece could - as my wife explained- easily be called "Dance of the One Veil". Rasta Thomas of the Bad Boys of Dance combined classical moves with swing dancing steps and fluid movements that would indicate a youthful past in breakdancing. There was a also a hodgepodge of modern and classical pieces, and the matrons were dutifully impressed by the classic piece from Romeo and Juliette. It was the type of crowd that spacemonkey Marc Garneau could have worked well, but I am saving the political rants for another time.