flâneur: “from the French masculine noun flâneur—which has the basic meanings of "stroller", "lounger", "saunterer", "loafer"… or "a person who walks the city in order to experience it". (wiki.com)
la flâness: sexier, female version of the above.Archive for March 16, 2010
The Dark Angel, and Men in Sparkling Pants
Given the cultural emphasis Guadalajara seemed to ooze (it is THE place to see Lucha Libre (Mexican wrestling), seek out underground nightclubs, brave soccer games and watch free outdoor orchestral concerts…), I figured I`d take the opportunity to see a show in the gorgeous, old Teatro Degollado - conveniently located only a few blocks away from my hostel*!
I love dance, and had planned to see the Universidad de Guadalajara`s famous Ballet Folklorico… but it was unfortunately not around for another month when I was there. BUT, since I would use my student card to get 50% off anyway, I took a chance on the Guadalajara Philharmonic, and hoped to God my family`s intense love for classical music had in fact been genuinely instilled in me at some point over the last 23 years… Otherwise, I figured I could just leave!
The show turned out to be fabulous. The first little bit had the orchestra playing some nice tunes, led by their incredibly energetic conductor… I took the time to get settled in, and admire the golden, gilded arches, balconies, and artwork on the ceiling my travel book had described as “breathtaking“. My favorite part was the massive, hungry-looking bird holding a broken chain in its mouth.
My mind wandered a bit, but I just let it go… my usual thoughts and daydreams backed by some music that I thought was pretty enjoyable…
Then a most haunting young woman was introduced. She wore a slinky, long, backless white dress, that draped over her thin body to the floor. She had dark hair and light olive skin; she was Spanish-speaking, and from the Canary Islands. Her name was Eva Leon.
She entered the stage like she`d rehursed it a thousand times, and crossed it because she had to. She would play the violin, backed by the orchestra for the next couple numbers before the intermission.
This spiced things up a bit for me! The orchestra began, and though she played too, it was quietly, as if she were listening in on an important conversation from across the room, at a crowded party. Her music matched her look – incredibly elegant, but devastating.
It seemed like the only time she could ever be happy was when the violin was attached to her chin. Like she was never meant to do anything else.
Then the sound of her violin got louder, and her arms moved faster manipulating every string – and she swept in to take over the orchestra! She led them with her troubled brilliance from verse to verse, song to song. She had some sort of spooky, effortless grace and insanity… and she alone was the focal point of every compilation. The orchestra had gone from her peers to her puppets!
Her thin arms moved quickly and manipulated and controlled every STRING, movement and SOUND that violin had! It was mad she didn`t break it, the way she was playing!
If it was ever her time she did take a quick break, her eyes darted around the theatre (no smile), as if to reassure the audience that she knew they were there. She`d stand up tall, and readjust. She felt us just as much as she felt the music; and we felt her too.
She moved like an angel, played like a demon…
At the end, she smiled and bowed, and broke the trance. She let out some sort of haunting, young and beautiful laughter that spewed dust and butterflies into the air… it all turned to powdered sugar for the audience to inhale, and we all stood up clapping.
And it was very impressive.
…
The Mariachis, however, dominated the second half of the show. And that half was my favorite!
They had a harp, six violinists, four different sizes and shapes of guitars, three of which were swapped for trumpets after a little while. They stood playing all in a row. Every man was dressed in his own sparkly white outfit, adorned with jewels. Pants were the tightest of tight, and I suppose reminiscent of something Elvis might dig. The three singers were perhaps the sexiest men on the planet, if only for this particular hour.
They were lively, and everything was such a production! Mariachi-style is such a show, and so different than any other musical production I`ve ever witnessed. The colours, the happiness, the dancing, and singing, the delighted little “ohhs“, “CAWCAWs“, and “YIPPEEESS!“ they shriek out between songs! They were having so much fun!
The music is very masculine, romantic, and just… tacky! In the most gorgeous sense of the word! My eyes burst into bunches of little pulsing cartoon hearts every time the lead singer belted out a good line! Or at least that`s how I picture it in Japanese anime…
I tried not to let their smooth romance and tight pants take away from their reputations as the incredible, orchestra-backed musicians that they are… and surprisingly, this wasn`t hard. This was hands down the best mariachi I`ve ever seen, and I think the only time I`ve truly appreciated it. Surprising… Horay!!
*Hostel Guadalajara Centro (see my hostel page for a brief review…)
Femininity
Someone told me the condition doesn`t exist anymore.
It does. You were clearly just trying to make me feel better. The women here – Mexicans, Latinos – they have it down. Somehow, they just exude it – in dress, in flirt, in laugh, in expression. I don`t get it.
No, I simply choose to believe in a new sense of femininity – one that I exude wholly and with some sort of modern grace. Doesn`t translate? Fine with me. Thank you very much.
