Actually, this isn’t Austin at all. It was in downtown Cincinnati at something called D’aug Days back in the 70s. I used to be more tolerant of weirdness in my youth. Perhaps this is just interpretative dance. But as I age, I understand all the feelings of that family of four. The moon goddess doesn’t need your shaken tambourine, hippies. Go stretch your hip flexors back at the commune. This ground is filthy, and you’re going to get hepatitis–and you probably don’t have insurance, even though that’s the law, so my tax dollars will be paying for your antibiotics. This is clearly not the safety dance.
Did you do a double-take, too? No, that’s Sherry’s index finger, inviting you to watch her and fellow University of Texas dancers as they shake and shimmy in spandex and high-cut leotards. Such form! Such extension!
Something tells me that most guys won’t be put off by her 1988 bangs, even nearly 30 years later.
What are these keen teens up to? Is it dancing, diving, or snake-charming? Perhaps it’s proof that Odo-Ro-No works?
I guess the name is meant to imply there is no odor, but it looks more like “Odor? Oh, no!” Maybe that’s why it disappeared…
Some folks don’t like the aluminum in deodorant (thinking it may be linked to cancer and Alzheimer’s disease), but what’s the alternative? I was in line the other day, downwind from a woman who reeked of what is best described as wet, hot polecat. I fought to keep my lunch down. But hey, some folks dig it.
What do you think? Thumbs up to musky partner pits? I think I’ll pass. Especially when it’s 101 degrees here today.
This straining adolescent is performing the Posin’ maneuver, as part of a new dance craze called The Big Apple. Nope, I’d never heard of it, either. But I bet Liz at The Vintage Inn has (she knows all about the Lindy and other swing dancing). In 1937, Time magazine attempted to describe it in words I can’t comprehend: