My Love Affair With Pointe Shoes, Part I.

Every young ballerina dreams of the day she will first go up on pointe. Pointe shoes are the stuff of magic, giving a dancer the illusion of floating or flying. (Before pointe shoes were developed, dancers were hoisted into the air on ropes and pulleys… but pointe shoes made it so much easier to move around the stage instead of just up and down). The pink satin gives pointe shoes an air of elegance, conjuring up images of fine ladies strutting about in even finer gowns made of billowing layers of stain and tulle. But in all honesty, wearing pointe shoes takes a lot of getting used to. They hurt like a mother.

I couldn’t wait to get my first pair of pointe shoes. However, my teacher was very particular about starting girls when their bodies were ready and not a moment before. She was a stickler about this because starting a dancer on pointe too early can cause real damage. As I got closer and closer to the right time, my anticipation grew to the point of near explosion. Buying your first pair of pointe shoes was a big deal in my ballet studio, you see; it was like a field trip, a festival and a huge family celebration all rolled into one.

We all drove together as a group on the big day, partly because my teacher wanted to be there to oversee the process and partly because the nearest store to buy them was located forty-five minutes away. We flocked into the tiny store and were seated in a tight little circle. None of us could sit still on the cold metal chairs as we waited for our turn while our friends were fitted. We watched their faces as they rose up on toe for the first time while we anxiously wiggled in our seats.

In my teacher’s mind there was only one brand: Capezio. So that’s what we all got. Size and width were the only thing that differed among us. But on that day there was nothing more wondrous in my mind than those pink Capezios. At last my feet were happily encased in what felt like pink satin cement blocks. My fitter offered me a hand to help me stand up and man, even standing in the things felt awkward. They had absolutely no give and were thicker and taller than ballet slippers. It felt like my ankles couldn’t flex enough to stand properly- my weight was being forced back on my heels, making me feel like I could teeter over backwards. The fitter continued to hold my hand while I rose up on pointe for the first time. The tips of the shoes, called the boxes – the hardest parts of the pointe shoes dug in to the soft, virgin flesh of my feet. It really hurt! I didn’t know how I would ever get used to wearing them, let alone look graceful.

Still, even the pain did not lessen my love affair with those shoes. That would happen much later.

Once everyone was fitted properly (and to my teacher’s satisfaction), the shoes were boxed up and we were all given the standard-issue packs of pink satin ribbon to sew onto our shoes (pointe shoes do not come with the ribbons attached- it is always a dancer’s job to do that… imagine how much sewing professionals do when they go through several pairs of shoes each week) and a box of lamb’s wool, which was used to cushion and protect the toes inside those super-hard boxes.

I was on a huge high during the entire car ride home. I couldn’t wait to sew those ribbons on my shoes and get started with dancing… like a real ballerina. Finally.

Little did I know that my love affair with pointe shoes would be short-lived and tragic.