Swan Dive: The Making of a Rogue Ballerina by Georgina Pazcoguin

Author:Georgina Pazcoguin [Pazcoguin, Georgina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Performing Arts, dance, Classical & Ballet, women
ISBN: 9781250244291
Google: bLwDEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Henry Holt and Company
Published: 2021-07-27T00:02:08.074524+00:00

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While I always hope my costume can withstand the fervor of an adrenaline-fueled gala performance, I also have to brace myself to manage the logistics. Gala night can be complicated for me. We have rehearsal all day, the final tech of the premiere piece, then magically switch gears—being red-carpet ready and smiling for the cameras like you have no other business in the world than looking hot. Then off comes the red-carpet garb I’ve spent days curating but have only publicly worn for a few minutes because it’s time to switch gears again and into our costumes. Over the years my gala-night costumes have ranged from a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt (with all of my hair tucked into a pixie-style wig) to a gorgeous cape-wielding creation Stella McCartney made just for me, to … a horse costume. Imagine, if you will, equine S and M meets ballet. That little number consisted of a brown velour unitard, a custom-fitted saddle for my back, and the pièce de résistance … a whip-style tail that I could flail around however I pleased!

There was one element of that costume that I did flat-out refuse.

“So, Georgina. I’m thinking a face harness. I’ll design a bit that you can hold in your mouth.” It was one of the final fittings with Carlos Campos and Christopher Wheeldon. I channeled my inner Mr. Ed: Oh, we are done here. You wanted a wild Argentinean filly, and I’ve been game for most of this bullshit, but I am not holding a bit in my teeth while I dance.

I whipped the shit out of that tail in the performance, and I got a great review—no bit required. And by the way, I’ve got to take a sec to address some of my male colleagues—yeah you, you know who you are. I never was and will never be YOUR FARM ANIMAL.

Whatever I’m wearing, I’ll dance my hardest, knowing full well it can be the inspiration for donors to open their wallets. The audience that night will be dressed to the nines; this is the elite of the elite of New York society and celebrity. After the applause and curtain calls, I dash back to my dressing room. Released of my fetish costuming, I’m primed for a stiff one (a DRINK! Excuse you). My hair and makeup are recalibrated back to red-carpet ready, my gown goes back on, and I head to the dinner to socialize, schmooze, and most importantly, partake in sustenance.

People have paid lots of money to have a real live ballerina at their table, and it’s a role I’m conditioned to excel at. Although I will say that nowadays I’ve earned the right to be seated next to friends, so my schmoozing days are, thank God, mostly behind me.

But back in 2011, I’m the only dancer at a table of top-tier donors and a celebrity or two.

After salads and a dinner of some lightly poached fish that costs as much per plate as my rent, a donor approached from another table and leaned toward me.

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