Datebook: Monday, June 2nd ~ 2008
With Lake Placid less than 2 months away, I want to talk about competition dresses.
Skating moms have many mementos they cherish—the infant coming-home outfit, the first competition costume, and the most expensive skating ensemble.
There are probably many reasons for this—when we see a costume from programs past, we replay the music in our heads and we visualize the program elements (mentally photo-shopping out any mistakes or falls) and rebroadcast the 3 minutes or so on our memory video screens. It would be great if this was just a pleasant stroll down memory lane—like looking at photos from a Hawaiian vacation.
Unfortunately, the costumes represent our Hawaiian vacations, our luxury upgrade cars, our beach houses, and our 401Ks. Let’s be honest—if anyone had ever told us when our kids strapped on their first pair of rental or JC Penney ice skates for that initial group lesson that 5 or 6 years later we would be in it to the tune of 50 or 60 thousand a year—we would have laughed in his face.
It’s like a time-share sales pitch—you make a pledge before entering the room—no matter what they say, the answer is “no”—you’re only there for the free hotel rooms, but it’s all out the window when they get you cornered. We all have an Achilles Heel.
“Your son has natural talent.”
“Your daughter has such a presence on the ice.”
So we treasure these beaded dresses and jackets, savoring them like knitted booties and the first hugged toys.
Our children don’t understand this--which is why we need to bring it down to their level of comprehension: Skating costumes are like former boyfriends (or girlfriends)—they’re not really available until we say they are.
“Mom, a couple of people have asked if they can borrow some of my costumes from last year.”
“Do you mean for a show or something?”
“No, I mean for the season—to wear, to perform in.” (It is hard to get nuances of tone here, but it is a bit like when people speak louder to those from another country who ask for directions, and although you can’t see it, you know there is a rolling of the eyes.)
“Oh. That isn’t really “borrowing”, that’s “using” it.”
“Whatever….”
“Do you mean Clare? Ginna? Liz?
“No-you can’t wear your best friend’s costume! (Translation—that would be like them dating your ex-boyfriend) Maybe they would rent them for the season—I hear people do that.”
“Rent them?” I query, “Why don’t they buy them? We would sell them for a fraction of the cost—not even what we paid for crystals.
“I don’t know—I think people want to save money. This sport is expensive!”
I am seeing dark blotches in my peripheral vision.
“So, you don’t care about them anymore? “
She is giving me full frontal eye-rolls now, but she has backed up a few steps, afraid I am going to launch myself into a total eclipse of all that is symbolic, or worse, the inequities of skating where the development of talent is not really funded in this country.
I vacillate between the two before I fall heavily over to one side.
“I will always see you, with your “tango” face when I look at that purple dress. Do you know, just the beading cost nine hundred dollars on that dress—just the beading-not to put them on, not to make it, just the beading. And the Envelope please—ah yes! 1250 three times a year—and you need what—oh, yes, a minimum of five costumes a year. Where do the ‘powers that be’ think we all get this money?”
“Mom, it was my “Paso” face. And who are the “powers that be”? And, that’s really the point—we should help other skaters out. You always say, we need to stop and help whenever we can.”
I hate it when they use reason in the middle of a good tirade.
So, like a former boyfriend/girlfriend, you have to let go eventually and stop calling “dibs”—only your best friends respect that it is forever (well, except Denise Richards but we’re not friends with her anyway).
“Okay,” I say, “But not the Gold dress. And I really can’t see anyone wearing your red…..”
“I know…I know the ones you want to keep.”
I smile a bit to keep from crying. It seems like skating moms are always close to the checkbook, laughter, a wine bottle, and tears—in no particular order.
“You can loan out your OD costume from last year…I’ll be fine with that.”
She smiles back. “Pretty sure there won’t be any takers on that until Halloween, and then it will only be Chase.”
Mombo
Skating moms have many mementos they cherish—the infant coming-home outfit, the first competition costume, and the most expensive skating ensemble.
There are probably many reasons for this—when we see a costume from programs past, we replay the music in our heads and we visualize the program elements (mentally photo-shopping out any mistakes or falls) and rebroadcast the 3 minutes or so on our memory video screens. It would be great if this was just a pleasant stroll down memory lane—like looking at photos from a Hawaiian vacation.
Unfortunately, the costumes represent our Hawaiian vacations, our luxury upgrade cars, our beach houses, and our 401Ks. Let’s be honest—if anyone had ever told us when our kids strapped on their first pair of rental or JC Penney ice skates for that initial group lesson that 5 or 6 years later we would be in it to the tune of 50 or 60 thousand a year—we would have laughed in his face.
It’s like a time-share sales pitch—you make a pledge before entering the room—no matter what they say, the answer is “no”—you’re only there for the free hotel rooms, but it’s all out the window when they get you cornered. We all have an Achilles Heel.
“Your son has natural talent.”
“Your daughter has such a presence on the ice.”
So we treasure these beaded dresses and jackets, savoring them like knitted booties and the first hugged toys.
Our children don’t understand this--which is why we need to bring it down to their level of comprehension: Skating costumes are like former boyfriends (or girlfriends)—they’re not really available until we say they are.
“Mom, a couple of people have asked if they can borrow some of my costumes from last year.”
“Do you mean for a show or something?”
“No, I mean for the season—to wear, to perform in.” (It is hard to get nuances of tone here, but it is a bit like when people speak louder to those from another country who ask for directions, and although you can’t see it, you know there is a rolling of the eyes.)
“Oh. That isn’t really “borrowing”, that’s “using” it.”
“Whatever….”
“Do you mean Clare? Ginna? Liz?
“No-you can’t wear your best friend’s costume! (Translation—that would be like them dating your ex-boyfriend) Maybe they would rent them for the season—I hear people do that.”
“Rent them?” I query, “Why don’t they buy them? We would sell them for a fraction of the cost—not even what we paid for crystals.
“I don’t know—I think people want to save money. This sport is expensive!”
I am seeing dark blotches in my peripheral vision.
“So, you don’t care about them anymore? “
She is giving me full frontal eye-rolls now, but she has backed up a few steps, afraid I am going to launch myself into a total eclipse of all that is symbolic, or worse, the inequities of skating where the development of talent is not really funded in this country.
I vacillate between the two before I fall heavily over to one side.
“I will always see you, with your “tango” face when I look at that purple dress. Do you know, just the beading cost nine hundred dollars on that dress—just the beading-not to put them on, not to make it, just the beading. And the Envelope please—ah yes! 1250 three times a year—and you need what—oh, yes, a minimum of five costumes a year. Where do the ‘powers that be’ think we all get this money?”
“Mom, it was my “Paso” face. And who are the “powers that be”? And, that’s really the point—we should help other skaters out. You always say, we need to stop and help whenever we can.”
I hate it when they use reason in the middle of a good tirade.
So, like a former boyfriend/girlfriend, you have to let go eventually and stop calling “dibs”—only your best friends respect that it is forever (well, except Denise Richards but we’re not friends with her anyway).
“Okay,” I say, “But not the Gold dress. And I really can’t see anyone wearing your red…..”
“I know…I know the ones you want to keep.”
I smile a bit to keep from crying. It seems like skating moms are always close to the checkbook, laughter, a wine bottle, and tears—in no particular order.
“You can loan out your OD costume from last year…I’ll be fine with that.”
She smiles back. “Pretty sure there won’t be any takers on that until Halloween, and then it will only be Chase.”
Mombo
posted by ice-dance.com @ 3:55 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home