The Gotham Suite

The costumes are dreadful said the woman behind us. She was wrong. Just wrong. Even if I hadn't known that they were by Tara Subkoff, I would have thought them great. The pale blue gingham frock worn by the dancer whose calves were so well formed that when she lay on the stage in the final piece her thighs didn't touch the tarket. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Tall. And Lou Reed. Above my chamber door. Wonderfully, slowly rhythmic and then maintaining, holding a lazy rhythm through frenzy. Above my chamber door. At the end Jo Dyer clapped even higher and more expressively than usual, and yelled Bravo as watermelon Petronio took his bows. It was to let them know that we're cool too, and it doesn't mean anything that there were only a few rows of us. That they're great and cool and inspiring. And it's not all for nothing. Please come again.