Gillian Kessler's Musings on Glimmer Ball
Local writer, educator, and dance machine Gillian Kessler wrote a beautiful musing on her experience at Westside Theater’s Glimmer Ball, and we couldn’t resist sharing it with you. Her beautiful and wholehearted reflections transported us, and hope they transport you too.
(If you’d like to learn more about Gillian, check out her blog and her writing workshop offerings)
Written on December 29, 2024
I woke to snow today. Snow falling hard like rain, not gentle, soft flakes, more like a snow blow drizzle. It’s the perfect gift for a girl who is so ready to maybe not go anywhere all day. I need a natural affirmation for my desire to just stay inside and read and write and burn candles and drink tea. I was just working on my year end reflection questions but they are kind of dry. I’ll keep doing them, but what I wanted to share was why my neck is so sore today: GLIMMER BALL!
There aren’t too many invitations that I get where I’m like, YES! I want to do that. But I realize that this past year, most of those sorts of invites were from the Westside Theater. They killed it with Hedwig. They delighted with 40 over 40. And Both Sides Now this fall, which had me bawling like a baby, ready to jump on the tour bus with the two actors and become their best friends. And then they decided to do a fundraiser.
I have a bit of beef with the fundraising culture in this town. There are a gazillion nonprofits, which is really swell. I’m so proud to be a part of that. All the nonprofits have fundraisers. Duh. But most of the fundraisers follow a really similar pattern involving giant (blah) ballrooms, sorta bad hotel food, silent auctions and live auctions. Live auctions make me super uncomfortable — I don’t like to deal in such big numbers and always feel equal parts overwhelmed and lame, like my little paddle doesn’t mean shit. I also don’t always feel the SOUL of the organization that is being represented. I want to feel what they do deep down in my bones so that I can give from an inspired, rooted sense.
But then the Westside throws Glimmer Ball. And there’s some sort of tagline about no gimmicks, just dancing and a free drink with your $30 ticket. A dance friend, Tracy, sent me the image invite a month or so back, Kelly and Joy dancing with abandon in sparkle suits. Suits me perfectly. I’ve had the date low key on my to-do for my stay at home holiday break, but didn’t really have a crew. Gita said she was gonna come, but then bailed. Elke is still messed up with her concussion. Bri is in the South Pacific. I wanted to have the right sidekick, someone who was all about the moves and wouldn’t want to leave after a short amount of time. Someone who could keep up.
Tracy and I have never had a real date. I know her from way back in the DDC days when she used to come to my classes. She still comes to my workshops from time to time and we were in a community class together this fall at Westside. She’s a gorgeous dancer. We met for a quick drink first and broke the ice, breaking it down with abandon and ease. When we first walked into the dance party, I felt like I didn’t really know anyone, which was fine, but which was kinda odd because I thought I’d see a ton of familiar faces. But by the end of the night, everyone felt familiar.
We danced just the two of us for a bit, and then joined up in the back of the room with an old friend and her two buddies. They were a blast of a threesome, all silver sequins and sassy pants. I found a spot where I could put my good ear by the speaker, just like I used to do at middle school dances. And it’s a good thing because most of the songs made me feel like I was back at a middle school dance, my most favorite thing! Psyc Furs “Love my Way”? The Cure, “Close to You”? Check and double-check. “Delirious”? Totes. “Get Into the Groove”? I mean, was this a playlist created just for me? Oh! “Hungry Like the Wolf” came on, and I got to reenact my little crawling routine from that empty apartment in Brooklyn. Do you remember, sissy? Wasn’t that dude's name Peter? The theatre kid who crawled and snarled around the wood floor? I was so thrilled to be able to do that AND to learn that a few folks matched my snarl claw for claw. I made a new friend on the dance floor and she was the perfect partner for I’m on a Hunt I’m after you radness.
There was a sparkle costume contest and remarkable humans of all ages strut their stuff. Some dude busted out some sick breakdance moves, and the crowd went wild. One of my 7th grade students was there, the only kid in the place, and he walked up and down the makeshift catwalk in his red shimmer suit, all of his dancerly ease emanating from him. He dances with me some at school, but I’m always pushing him to go even more full out. I know he has it in him, but it’s different when you’re a 7th grade boy dancing at school for a bunch of kids you play soccer at recess with. Put him in front of a room of Glimmer Ball attendees? The razzle-dazzle was flying from his limbs.
Towards the end of the party, space opened up. I found myself in a big circle of connection. Tracy and I had really meshed with the three women in the back and picked up a new gal, my crawling on the floor Duran Duran fan. She has super fast feet and I kept wanting to try and catch her moves. That’s a sure bet of a good dance party for me, as generally I am totally all about my own stuff. I loved that there were people who felt wilder and wackier, with faster feet and quicker turns and more wild abandon.
At the end of the night we talked about creating some sort of dance club, like a book club but where we go to random venues to dance hard. I’ve wanted to be a part of such a club for years, but it never materialized beyond my imagination. We exchanged phone numbers. I put my name into new phones and added “Dance Partay” as my business. It felt official. My new friends had already texted by the time I got home, thighs burning and inner arms chafed from the rub of my electric blue sequins.
I write this with my back extra supported with pillows, the burn of biofreeze on my neck and shoulders. The teenagers and dogs still asleep. The husband already on the ski hill. The quiet of the snow falling the perfect antidote to all of the extroverted wild of my night, this reflective stillness to be so very savored. I’m feeling so grateful for this community, for places that make and share art, for the capabilities of my body, for my spirit for saying yes.