Oh the pain!!!
BUT... I suppose there is always a tinge of bad with the good.
I haven't seen the video yet, but as far as I could tell, we started off fine... all in synch and in stoic Bedouin character.
And then came the veils.
Let me tell you a little about the veils......
Now, these are beautiful veils, and a huge part of Dalia's vision for the piece, as we sweep from a stoic debke line into the piece's sandstorm climax.
As you might expect, they are a deep, sandy gold, made of heavy poly-silk, which drapes beautifully and glows in stagelight.
And they are long. Long, long long. Mine was the longest, at over 4 yards. The shortest was just under 3.5 yards.
We start sans veils -- very stern, lean and mean.
About two minutes in, the group of eight splits, with my half exiting as the others hip-twist forward.
My group returns, ritualistically draped in our veils (sorry, I can't show you a pic of that here... these photos are from the DNA performance in October '07).
Anyway. We cross forward and split to the four corners of the stage.
Now, bear in mind, it looks like the veils are draped very simply over us, so we look like a bunch of sandy ghosts, but in fact they are slyly tucked into the backs of our dance pants so at the right cue -- woosh!
So, while I'm there spinning my little head off, I feel something at my feet. Of course I can't look down. But I feel a tug at the veil in my hand.
During the first cross, my veil came untucked from my pants and was dragging on the floor behind me, completely ruining the effect of the sail!!
And what killed me was that, in all the rehearsals and performances, I have never had a problem with my veil. In fact, I think this whole sail-veil thing may have been my idea!
So my pertard was firmly hoist (and, no, a petard is not a sail or other nautical device... it's actually a bomb -- no kidding!).
But I didn't look down, and I didn't trip. I just went on as normal for the minute or so that the section lasted, and then leaned waaaaaaay back, as far as I could, so Yowalka could grab the veil -- as planned -- with a spectacular flourish.
Anyway. The people I spoke to after the show said it looked all right. It helped that I kept on going, which is the most you can expect from anyone in a prop/wardrobe malfunction situation.
And sometimes it is exactly the malfunction that shows just how professional you can be.
Feeling my pain, a friend sent me this hysterical clip of the unforgettable Anita Morris. Keep your eyes on her little skirt -- especially around 2:41.
Yes, she was a goddess -- and a great inspiration to us all!!!