In the fall of 1995, I found myself at the Centre de Dance du Marais in Paris, studying ballet under Anne, a petite teacher who one day during a class, abruptly stopped the piano and the music staring at me. I feared I had made a mistake or lost the rhythm, in fact , she looked at me and asked, “Leo, why are you here? You have started ballet when the others retire.” Although it was hard to hear, she spoke the truth.
I had started ballet at the age of 30, after suddenly feeling a strong desire to pursue it. I knew I wasn’t especially gifted or talented, but I loved it and was determined to improve. I spent severals years taking classes at the Centre de Danse du Marais in Paris, while also studying architecture at the Arts Deco.
My passion for ballet was so strong that I even spent several summers at the Rosella Hightower dance school in Cannes. Despite my level being below that of a beginner for someone my age, I persisted in chasing my dream until I broke my foot and took it as a sign to stop.
Years later, in 2004, I found myself in New York City and heard about the Alvin Ailey Dance School. Remembering how many dancers in France dreamed of attending, I decided to check it out. I walked into the new glass building in Midtown and immediately felt like I had arrived at the Mecca of dancers.
y passion for ballet was so strong that I even spent several summers at the Rosella Hightower dance school in Cannes. Despite my level being below that of a beginner for someone my age, I persisted in chasing my dream until I broke my foot and took it as a sign to stop.
When I met Wendy, the teacher of a body conditioning class, I asked her “ I could I watch your class?” With her bandana on her hair and the eyes popping out of her glasses she said “ watch it?? You gone do it”.She took my arm and dragged me into the studio to dance. It wasn’t easy, but I persevered and gained some confidence and after a year, at roughly 42, I made the daring decision to take Mr. Martinez’s boys’ ballet class at the Alvin alley school.I turned a completely irrealistic dream into reality, lets say I forced reality.
I turned an idealistic dream into reality
Despite the wide gap in skill level between me and the 14-year-old boys in the class, the joy, pride, and happiness I felt while attempting pirouettes and jettés was indescribable, on top the glass studios on the fifth floor even offered stunning views of Manhattan.
I spent around two years with Mr. Martinez, who never acknowledged me until one day I showed up to class totally exhausted from sleepless nights with my young daughter, Chloe 2 yrs.
While attempting a releveé at the barre, my ankle gave out, and Mr. Martinez placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Take it easy.” In that moment, I felt seen and recognized in his ballet class. He made my dream of becoming a dancer feel like a reality.
I stopped for good some years later at the age of 48.
