Month: October 2021

Here are some of my thoughts about different brands and styles of pointe shoes!

Necessary for pointe shoes:

• Has to have correct length, no more than pinch
• Complement feet shape
• Accomodate individual toe shape
• Breaks in the correct spot
• Proper support
• Good feel

 

Bloch Eurostretch- 

• I liked the fit of the shoe and the feel of the material as it can easily stretch to accommodate being on and off pointe.
• I also jet glued the inner part of the pointe shoe at the ball of the feet, but the shoe still broke very low.
• It was extremely easy to get up on the box, to the point of not being as supported during pirouettes and any movement that applies torque. I am used to Russian pointe shoes, which are definitely harder and require more energy to get up to pointe.
• I used a technique called darning to ensure that the platform is more stable when on pointe and preventing loose threads from ripping off, which also helps keep me in balance.
• I felt very grounded on pointe, which is a different feeling than I am accustomed to.

 

Overall: I would recommend this type of shoe for beginners on pointe and not those who are more advanced and have more strength to get on pointe. Personally, I felt like I was pushing far too over the box. This shoe had more of an aesthetic appeal to me with my arch in the initial stages of wearing it, but ultimately lacked support for my feet.

Russian Rubin, v-cut flex medium shank-

• There was excess fabric at the heel of the pointe shoe when I went on pointe, despite my attempts to sew ribbons lower, into the heel.
• I appreciate the support and feel of a full shank, but it did not flatter my arch, despite breaking higher and closer to my arch.
• The platform is larger, which allows me more area to balance on. The box is also tapered, which fits my foot shape and my narrow feet.
• This type of pointe shoe feels fairly rigid on either side of my foot.

Overall: This type of shoe is for those that have gained more strength on pointe, and it may be somewhat difficult for beginners to make sure they stay over the box. I loved the support from the shank of this shoe, but it did not enhance the look and shape of my feet. This shoe is quite hard on the inner and outer parts of my feet, causing blisters and pinches in my pinky toes.

 

Merlet Diva ¾ shank-

• This shoe had the proper length and was not constricting at all.
• Unlike the other two types of pointe shoes, the Diva has a three-quarter shank, meaning the shank only goes up to the middle of the arch or heel. Therefore, the shoe can bend more, thus improving the look of my feet.
• Like the Russian Rubin, this shoe has a longer vamp to accommodate my longer toes as well as a larger platform to balance on.
• The Diva is quite easy to break in, especially near the ball of the foot. Despite not having a full shank, it does provide enough support for my feet.
• The feel of the shoe is very fluid and flexible, yet able to support all ballet movements. 
• Additional features:
• This shoe has suede tips (on the platform), which prevents ripping of fabric and slipping. 
• On the inner part of the box, there is extra padding to reduce the noise that the shoe makes when landing from a jump.
• The shank is made out of plastic, which is supposed to last longer than those made from layers of cardboard and paper glued together, like the Russian Rubins.

Overall: I absolutely adored this shoe as it was the perfect fit and complemented my foot shape fairly well. I particularly like the effect of the three-quarter shank in being flexible, yet able to support the strength of my feet. The additional features in this shoe made it one of my favorites to dance with, especially with the suede tips. Even though this shoe did improve the look of my arch, it shaped my feet in a more elongated way, versus bending to show off the arch.

“Bye, Marvin!” she cried out, gently patting my hood. 

 

The blaring beep of the morning bell, signals a new day, eliciting a sigh as she trudges onward toward the building. I wave goodbye with my white and black checkered mirrors, wishing her a gentle farewell that she will never see.

 

It’s a waiting game until her sixth period- around 12:28 or so. Occasionally, a few other cars pass by, busily revving their way to where they are supposed to be. But I am here in my parking spot,

watching

 

as 

 

the 

 

clouds 

 

drift 

 

away. 

 

Sometimes I see a squirrel scurrying about the parking lot, weaving its way in and out of the lines and across the street. It settles near the acorn tree at a corner of the tennis courts, where students can cross the street to the fields behind the school. A bushy tail curls its way up the tree and out of sight.

Other times, I think about her. When she first began driving me. Her hands clasped tightly around the wheel, panicking because thirty miles an hour was far too fast. At that time, she had a heavy foot, impatient to accelerate as the person behind her was “judging” her for not keeping up with the speed of traffic. Traffic always goes faster than the speed limit. 

 

In any case, with much practice, she has finally gotten much better since the beginning. Now, she feels more relaxed driving on her own- no mother to reprimand her for not stopping a thousand meters before the car infront of her. From place to place, no matter how short the distance, an assortment of music reverberates off the seats, accompanied by her decent, albeit improved, singing voice. Apparently, she has taken voice lessons since sophomore year, and it shows to some degree. 

 

Her ultimate passion is ballet though. Frequently during the week, we go to her ballet studio together, churning away down Ogden, late as always. Her purple bag on the passenger seat is heavier than it needs to be, filled with exercise equipment that she does not really use except at home. Her ankle weights total five pounds, and her theraband and flexistretcher torture device inflate her bag. It has gotten to the point where she cannot even fit her ballet shoe bag into the purple bag. Her little eccentricities get me wheeling in laughter. 

 

Oh, she is heading out now! Quickly, she glides down the steps toward the lower parking lot, despite the heavy load on her back- yet another bulky, overstuffed bag. Scrambling for her key she unlocks me and starts my engine.

 

Are you ready to go? She puts on her music as usual, setting up her phone to play whatever Youtube has curated in her playlist. And off we go.

 

This time, she is silent as we drive home. Only the music drifts through the air, accompanied by the low hum of the air conditioning. Her mind is elsewhere. Sometimes, she seems despondent, a pensive look spreading across her unmasked face.

 

She arrives home, hurriedly eats lunch, and we head back to school.

Again, I find myself waiting.

I do not understand her adolescent gloom. 

 

If I was her, I would be eternally joyful, having the freedom to go wherever I desire without a key. I could be gallivanting around the world right now, observing artwork at the Louvre, witnessing the pyramids’ majesty in Egypt, tasting the handmade mochi of Granny Mochi in Japan. People would call my name on hotel bookings and restaurants. Reservation for Marvin. My newfound friends among different cultures would love to speak on the phone. Hello, Marvin! And I could show love and be loved. No more side view mirrors. Goodbye, Isabel!

 

She exits the doors of the school, down the same set of stairs, back to me. When she removes her mask, I see a grin plastered on her face. Whatever happens at school appears to be forever rebounding from good to bad. Or a capricious attitude gets the best of her. She unlocks the door, and tumbles inside, her burdensome backpack crashing in next to her.

Or, maybe she realized just how lucky she truly is. To be free, to be able to speak and sing and dance and wave and go anywhere she desires. 

 

But for now, she is also confined to a routine, just like me. I find it funny that we have the same dream: to travel the world, see new places, experience life. And I hope that someday we both will get that chance. Until then,

 

“Let’s go home, Marvin!” she exclaims. Will do.