Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you
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I’m currently away from Buenos Aires, visiting the much smaller and less well established London tango scene. In this context, I’ve been thinking a lot about the basics of tango: what really enables us to connect with each other and feel the tango bliss, even when not necessarily in the arms of the most technically accomplished dancers. For me, there are two main elements that give the tango experience its magic. I have written elsewhere about the power of the music. But there is something even more bitter-sweetly addictive, more universally appealing. And that, of course, is the embrace.
My friend Osito is a professional salón dancer who prides himself on the elegance and craftsmanship of his traditional Villa Urquiza style. But nothing is as important to him as the embrace. “She could be the best dancer in the world, technically, musically and in every other way,” he tells me, “but if the woman doesn’t really embrace me like she means it I have no interest in dancing with her.”
In my very limited experience as a leader, I have certainly experienced women who were very good dancers but who gave me the strong impression that they didn’t want to embrace me. In some cases, I felt their main concern was to ensure that my body didn’t touch their body in any potentially intimate way (the result of a homophobic squeamishness, perhaps, at the idea of feeling another woman’s breasts resting against theirs?). As soon as I had any sense of this, I froze and found it almost impossible to dance.
Osito, by contrast, amply demonstrates what it means to commit to the embrace. Although he adjusts the distance between us constantly, to dance the open embrace giros that characterise Villa Urquiza tango, whenever he can wrap me into a close embrace he does. Suddenly, there he is — his torso pressed fully against mine — and I can feel his right cheekbone raised in the grin that seems to inevitably spread over his face when he has the woman nestled in his arms like this. And it’s not that he pulls me towards him with his right arm. His right hand rests as lightly on my back as ever. Nor do I feel the need to use my arms to try to pull him nearer. My left hand goes on just barely cupping his right shoulder blade. He comes to me. In his happier moods, the close embrace has him almost purring. A cat that got the cream.
And that, I think, is the important thing about the embrace. It is born of something real. It’s not a hold, a position or a set configuration of arms and torso. I respectfully disagree with those teachers — though they are many (and include Osito himself) — who claim that the important thing is to stand tall, open out the chest and keep the leader’s right shoulder from creeping forward. I don’t like to feel a leader’s bony breastbone pressing into me. I like to feel encircled. What I personally look for is an embrace that is as close as possible to the real thing. As Pablo Pugliese, one of my favourite dancers, puts it: “Don’t think about where to place your hands, guys. Embrace her as if she were your mother, your sister or your lover.”
Of course, harmonious embraces are not always so easy to achieve. I feel like Gulliver in Brobdingnag among the London beanpole men. It’s not easy to snuggle when there is a 30cm height difference between you. My friend The Philosopher proves that it is possible to find a comfortable embrace even when the man is much taller than his partner, but I will always feel more at home in the arms of a smaller guy. And if my partner holds me in a way that is stiff or rigid, if I feel that I cannot freely twist the muscles of my back, then I can no longer dance, and just have to try to endure the tanda.
And there is no doubt that an embrace that is too deceptively beautiful can be emotionally dangerous for an overly sensitive and boy-crazy girl like me who spends so much time crushing on someone unattainable or mourning a relationship which ended sadly. The tango embrace is only a simulacrum, the holodeck version of intimacy.
But it can also have healing powers. Even amid the stress of a private lesson, when my teacher dances with me in order to scrutinise my following technique, I can often feel her soft embrace melting away any little worries and sadnesses I might have brought with me. When I was nursing a bruised heart, the embraces were my arnica. My friend Il Ingenere put it very succinctly, when he was dealing with a painful break-up. “Tonight,” he said, “I really need to feel some nice embraces.”
Comments From Original Post
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Hey.. I am one of those beanpole men and i have to agree that when there is a massive height difference between myself and a partner it becomes almost impossible for me to relax into a tanda…
If I sense a cabeceo from someone who is, shall we say, on the petite side, I will usually consider how brave she must be to consider me a suitable match, before firmly avoiding eye contact for the rest of the track. It’s almost like a natural selection that will ensure only couples of a similar height will succeed at tango (maybe this is why Argentine couples always seem to be quite little)
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"I hope you get ou tof London, while in the UK. Plenty of good embraces on the south coast."
"Thanks for the recommendation. This post was originally published a while ago during a UK visit. I don't spend a lot of time dancing in London; I am based in Buenos Aires. I didn't actually visit any of the south coast milongas because of the expense and difficulties of getting back home late at night after the milongas (trains don't always run so late and then you still have to cross the city to get home). But I'll try to check out the scene if and when I'm next in London."
"I can really identify with this; my favourite partners vary in skill and experience, but they all have one thing in common - they fully enter into, and return the embrace. After that, whatever follows is almost like a bonus."
"Yes! The embrace is crucial."