By Sarah Parmet
“I think all of you can be like, 100% more sexy.”
The year was 2021, and I was in jazz dance class.
The way I think of jazz in the dance world is the alcoholic, slightly promiscuous aunt of the family who takes many lovers and has no kids. Always blurring the line between being “sassy” and “mature”. The costumes are usually incredibly short, and look like they were made for Vegas — rhinestones, plumed feathers, the works.
The jazz teacher was a woman around my mother’s age. Well, the only reason I knew this was because she said she called herself old and she dissed millennials, but not in a boomer way. Ah, Gen X, the forgotten generation. The first thing I noticed was that her face never moved. It was perpetually frozen. And she couldn’t quite smile either.
“HEYYYYY BESTIES!” She said, swinging her car keys around in her hand as she strutted across the room. She held a giant Starbucks cup in the other. “Soooooo, how are we all doing today?”
“Good,” we all mumbled.
“Well, girlies, I’m TIFFANY!!!”
“Hi.”
“You guys!!! We really need to fix the ENERGY in here! I literally can’t. Ooh…I know what can boost our mood…..a pose-off!!!”
A pose off is when everyone gets into two lines, and aggressively poses on count to the music (usually an upbeat Britney spears/diva pop song with questionable lyrics) while making duck faces in the mirror.
Today, the song was “Cover Girl” by mother RuPaul herself (a personal favorite of mine). I somehow ended up at the front of the line. I lost the pose-off after my fourth pose (I suppose it was the lack of booty-popping, as they say). I then had to subsequently sashay away to the back of the line.
After that, she had us do a little stretching, nothing crazy. Then, we started learning the combo. I don’t remember what the song was called….something about a BOOM BOOM POW JACKIN MY STYLE COPY MY SWAGGER — I don’t know. A lot of booms.
The lack of booty-popping that I did in the Pose-Off was well compensated in this piece of choreography. At least, it seemed we were popping something every beat. And you know. There would be like, three turns. And a few split leaps. Complicated floorwork. Some sort of bizarre flexibility position throughout.
“Ok, I wanna see you guys do it!” Tiffany said. She strutted to the front of the room, and played the music. And that’s when she said the sentence that changed my life:
“I think all of you can be like, 100% more sexy.”
Just kidding.
“Like, I think the most important thing to be is hot! Being hot is actually just as important as being kind, or smart. Maybe even more so. Now, can we go through the first four 8 counts of this dance, but more hot?”
As you can see, Ms. Sexy I mean Ms. Tiffany was incredibly well-versed in childhood development, she had her values set. I couldn’t think of a better role model.
One of the girls raised her hand. “Um, I have a question —”
“Yes, Angelbaby.”
The room went silent. Tiffany didn’t actually bother learning our names. I actually thought that was kind of unfair. We all had to learn her name, but she got to make up names for all of us?
“Yes, Cutie?”
“Yes, Lil Mama?”
“Yes, Hotness?”
And of course, the quintessential, “Yes, Sexy?”
I was Cutie, which I supposed wasn’t a bad name compared to the others. Lil Mama didn't seem like the right fit, and Hotness would’ve made me call CPS, considering the fact that we were all 12-14.
“Ok, so now we’re going to do this move. You’re going to get on the floor, and you’re just going to WHA! WHA! And HEY! HOOO! HAAAH.”
In comparison, mine sounded more like a “What? What? HEY! NO! BLEHH”.
No matter how I tried, I just couldn’t get the WHA! WHA! HEY! HOO! HAAAAAH.
“Can it be saucier? Juicier? More….sexy?”
That's what it always came down to, right?