Lauren Kessler - Raising the Barre: Big Dreams

Praise for

Counterclockwise

Kessler takes on the marketing, (sometimes pseudo-) science, and the psychology of the anti-aging industry in this funny personal tale.... Her journey through the temptations of quick-fix anti-aging options treats the fountain-of-youthseeking side of us with humor and compassion. Publishers Weekly

An entertaining and informative investigation into growing old. Kirkus Reviews

[Kesslers] breezy style conceals an aptitude for reasoned analysis, and she incorporates a cogent summary of clinical research on aging into her tour of the fountain grounds, a one-woman guinea pig gamely trotting down a dozen different paths in search of the bubbling waters. New York Times Science Times

A fascinating new book... Essential reading for every woman who wonders whether problems ranging from brain fog to wrinkles can be reversed as she ages... Take charge of your health and your options for feeling and looking younger with Laurens ultimate guide to anti-aging empowerment. Examiner.com

You could not hope for a smarter, savvier, more committed guide to the multibillion-dollar anti-aging industry than Kessler. The Oregonian

[Kessler is] an intrepid explorer of all things anti-aging. Psychology Today

Kessler is fun to read as she perkily pushes herself to become biologically younger. Harpers

Informative and witty. Wall Street Journal

Praise for

My Teenage Werewolf

Straight from the trenches, a moms tale of weathering her daughters transformation from sweetheart to snark mouth. People

A hilarious and insightful read thats sure to resonate with any mom. Ladies Home Journal

Readers who live with Lizzies of their own will enjoy this glimpse into the adolescent brain, which is not yet open for the business of wise and measured living. More

If youre battered by a daughter whos 10 times smarter and 100 times cooler than you are, this book could save your sanity. It turns out that that teen monster is still your little girljust dont let her know that you know it! Barbara Ehrenreich, best-selling author of Bright-Sided, This Land Is Your Land , and Nickel and Dimed

Praise for

Stubborn Twig

Excels in its historical sweep and in Kesslers flair for dramatic storytelling... an eye-opener. San Francisco Chronicle

Winner of the 1994 Oregon Book Award for Literary Nonfiction

Praise for

Clever Girl

A spellbinding tale of a woman who fell prey to her idealism. Library Journal

Compelling... Kessler masterfully explores and exposes the myriad, competing facets of Bentleys tumultuous life. Booklist

Clever Girl vividly traces the dramatic life of New England blue blood Elizabeth Bentley. Elle

Superb... [brings] to life the loneliness, the fear and the thrill of [Bentleys] life as spy and anti-spy. Seattle Times

An insightful biography of an extraordinary American woman [and] a thrilling character-driven drama... Reads like good fiction... fascinating. San Francisco Chronicle

A well-paced and sympathetic chronicle. Boston Globe

Also by

Lauren Kessler

Counterclockwise: My Year of Hypnosis, Hormones, Dark Chocolate, and Other Adventures in the World of Anti-Aging

My Teenage Werewolf: A Mother, a Daughter, a Journey through the Thicket of Adolescence

Finding Life in the Land of Alzheimers: One Daughters Hopeful Journey

Clever Girl: Elizabeth Bentley, the Spy Who Ushered In the McCarthy Era

The Happy Bottom Riding Club: The Life and Times of Pancho Barnes

Stubborn Twig: Three Generations in the Life of a Japanese American Family

Many of the designations used by manufacturers and sellers to distinguish their products are claimed as trademarks. Where those designations appear in this book and Da Capo Press was aware of a trademark claim, the designations have been printed in initial capital letters.

Copyright 2015 by Lauren Kessler

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address Da Capo Press, 44 Farnsworth Street, 3rd Floor, Boston, MA 02210.

Designed by Trish Wilkinson

Set in 11 point Adobe Caslon Pro by the Perseus Books Group

Cataloging-in-Publication data for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

First Da Capo Press edition 2015

ISBN: 978-0-7382-1832-8 (e-book)

Published by Da Capo Press

A Member of the Perseus Books Group

http://www.dacapopress.com

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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To Kim

and to AE: So there!

To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful. This is power, it is glory on earth and it is yours for the taking.

Agnes de Mille

I dont understand anything about the ballet; all I know is that during the intervals the ballerinas stink like horses.

Anton Chekhov

Contents

T he Troyanoff Ballet Academy is a single-studio dance school, a storefront wedged between a dry cleaner and a pizza joint in a Long Island strip mall. My mother drives me there twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday after school, to take classes with Professor Troyanoff and his seriously arthritic wife, Madame Troyanoff. They were Russian dancers of little renown who left the motherland between the two world wars. My mother calls them white Russians to distinguish them from the Reds, this being the Cold War.

The distinction is lost on me. The inelegance of the academy is lost on me. I am six, seven, eight, nine, and what matters is pulling on pale pink tights and a black three-quarter-sleeve leotard in the tiny dressing room no bigger than a closet, sitting on the bench on the side of the studio and carefully slipping my feet into soft leather slippers. What matters to me is standing at the barre: first position, demi-pli, pli, relev, second position, third, fourth, fifth; tendu, battement, rond de jambe, arabesque; and later, in the center of the room, glissades, the thrill of the grand jet. What matters is dancing.

The Professor is a kindly middle-aged man with a handsome fleshy face and a luxuriant head of silver hair who wears snug T-shirts, billowing trousers, and black leather ballet slippers. While he instructs, his accent so thick one or another of us has to ask him to repeat, again and again, his wife, stern and crabby, stalks the studio, leaning on a cane. When one of us gets sloppy, when our grand plis are not grand enough or our turnouts are not turned out enough, she raps the backs of our legs with the cane. It doesnt hurt as much as the idea of it hurts. I learn much later that her ballet career in the old country crippled her before she turned forty.

The Professor loves to choreograph. He puts together bits and pieces of what my mother tells me are the classics, each little dance ending in dramatic grand tableaux with all sixteen or eighteen or twenty of us young dancers striking and holding poses. The academy presents two parent-pleasing recitals a year, held in whatever elementary school the Professor manages to persuade to host us. I love the music. I love learning the steps. I love the costumes, the lavender tutu edged in silver with matching silver-sprayed ballet slippers, the white satin Swan Lake costume with yards of netting, so gorgeous that, after the recital, I find reasons to wear it: several performances in the backyard, show-and-tell at school, Halloween. But its not just the trappings, its how it all makes me feel: a part of something big and important and glamorous, a (pointed) toehold in a world of romance and pageantry so very different than my small suburban life. I dont think of it as my small suburban life at age nine or ten, but already I feel the insularity of it, the ordinariness. Already I feel the need to look elsewhere.