Lizzie's Lashes - A Blog

She sees the world through rose-tinted glasses

Eduardo maestro, Talk to me!

Morganstown Milonga, Eduardo is sitting momentarily apart in the first few moments of the milonga. Teasingly I approach him, not for a dance, but for an interview. He smiles a smile that knocks out every brain-cell, but I’m armed and prepared, so drawing out my notebook, and returning his smile, I sit down.

“Place of first kiss?” is the first question on my lips, but chastening the impropriety of my thoughts, I gather myself to find out a little more about the man behind the music and art that is tango…

LL: “I’m wondering, Eduardo, what’s your favourite colour?”

Ed: “Red”, he responds looking inwardly. “Fading black into furious red… You know, when I was a kid I was fascinated with hidden places. The places that are kept away from you as a child. The attics, the mills in the countryside at night... (you know, my dad's family have some land in the Pampas and I used to spend the summers there). And of course, that places in the cities where people share their adult fantasies: the theatre and the night clubs. Maybe that's why I'm a trained actor and a tango dancer. People becomes at night someone else, like in vampire stories we "transform" ourselves; sometimes into heroes sometimes in seedy characters of a film noir movie.

So the night fades into lipstick or blood rush"...

LL: “…and your favourite sound?”

Ed: “the violin, or the sound of feet walking and brushing through autumn leaves”. It is something about the pulse, the heart beat, like in a Di Sarli piece, the way he stokes the piano... he has the sensitivity of a cat walking through the roof of black and white tails of a piano.

Hmmm, I think, time find out a little more about this man. Eduardo, I ask him quietly, “What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you on the dance floor?” The ground is knocked from under both of us.

He looks at me, his eyes are laughing, “I can’t answer that” he jokingly explains. He moves on to a powerful account of a dance lasted an entire evening. The connection was intense, they moved to a space that was timeless, both eternity and a moment. Ten years later they met, by chance again, in Vietnam. I almost forget to take notes. He talks, I listen. Once more they danced, and the connection was as it was the first time. I reflect on a dance that was for me very intense, starting at 1am and lasting until dawn. I can still feel his presence.

It doesn't matter where you are from, who your partner is. There's a willingness to dance. That's what it counts and how much intention or craft you have invest into that thing call tango dance. There's a passion for the tango that we, milongueros, carry through the salons of the world, like possessed specie. And you perfect that technique in the instrument of your body and that connection with other dancers all through your life.

And then, one day, ten years later let's say, you meet again with that ideal dancer that fit into your embrace like a glove. And everything becomes like a mystical or religious experience...

“Finally Eduardo” I ask, “what are your hopes for the future?”

He talks, describing people who seem to have forgotten about happiness. His mind wanders, and we discuss the importance of time. Time costs nothing, but is priceless. Within dance, he explains, people are given back that time, they step out of their lives, connect on a different level, perhaps something new happens.

Finally, our discussion returns back to the question, “Your hopes for the future?” He looks at me once more, “Just dance,” quietly he says.

~ LL, 4th February 2010

Morganstown, a lesser-known jewel in the crown

Morganstown seems an unlikely place to travel to when you are heading for a serious cold and your house is full of strange people. But with Morganstown comes some of the most gentle, warm and welcoming people I have had the opportunity to embrace in this rich land of tango. They welcome me like a child returning home, and their 10th anniversary party, on no account could be missed.

I was not disappointed. Welcomed at the door, and returned the £26 I had unwittingly over paid, I was fed like a queen on their banquet of goodies. That should have in itself been enough, but they had persuaded their friend and good neighbour Eduardo fresh from BA to teach workshops, entertain us with stories and play to us some of the finer selections from his musical library. Not once was I refused a dance, and I was invited many times despite sporting the reddest nose this side of Lapland, as tissues on my face leave an indelible mark.

I was enchanted. I’d taken my new camera and used it to good effect, the room at times was awash with emotion as the hosts for this fine weekend worked tirelessly to provide us with a weekend to remember. It’s a weekend that quiet valley will not quickly forget.

I also had the opportunity to discover a little more about the man who is known as Eduardo. We collaborated on a short interview, resistance was futile.

~ LL, 30th January 2010

The fortunes of 33

The mystery surrounding the overnight closure of 33 Portland place was quickly overtaken by the welcome news that 33 had moved, migrated and found a residence of majesty, splendour and candlelight to entertain the fairer folk of London!

They are now appearing at Porchester Hall, where they offer Tango by candlelight with free nibbles and wine, in a delightful, friendly atmosphere. Thank God!

The fate of their former host, seems as yet still uncertain. Having enjoyed the hospitality of his residence, at 33 which gave these excellent people the setting for the most exquisite tango I have experienced, I bid him a fond farewell.

~ LL, 26th January

The cat crept into The Crypt...

... And was entertained all evening.

Unfortunately, her host the following night was indisposed so the delights of 33 were placed on hold pending her Majesty's pleasure.

This is all we know.

~ LL, 19th January

I really should get out more.

After weeks of being secluded by the snow, I found the darker depths of London a welcome relief the white landscape of the Midlands.

Welcomed and entertained by my excellent host Tony, I had a night of waiting, watching and some exquisite tandas at the Negracha club. The pleasure of being able to dance till 3 in the morning, was one that I had badly missed.

My friends howled with laughter at the title of my blog "Lizzy's Lashes". "Sounds like an S&M site" one commented.

Ooops. I've added a by line hoping to clarify the nature of the content, but with regret may have to rename it, so that "it does what it says on the tin"

~ LL, 15th January

To Hell and back

The arctic weather has sent me crazy. After a week of slush, sleet and freezing conditions I’m broken. My mind, my body and my soul are in desperate need of some serious tango attention. I need to get out like a drunk needs drink, so I’m heading to London to dance until my feet kill me and beg to go home, and the thought of being frozen in with no way out is a damned relief.

It’s a daunting cocktail I’ve arranged. The newly “un-re-decorated” Negracha Club with appalling toilets and even worse floor craft, the lovely Crypt followed by the exquisite wonders of 33. This weekend is going to be one long milonga. If I can squeeze in Mariposa on Sunday afternoon I’ll be seriously impressed.

~ LL, 15th January

Poetic trees

I saw these trees today and they reminded me of some dances that I had that were stunningly different. These peoms capture the best and the worst moments of tango beautiful enchantment, and an entangled mess.

Both, at the time, seeming endless eternity within a single tanda.


Standing, eyes closed,
I feel your breath.
perfectly calm, a breeze, a flutter, the quick swirl of movement.

I touch your hand.
It rizes slowly, the enchantement is deep.

Slowly, in perfect silence,
I move your body.
Your senses waiting for every gesture.
Quietly, I lay you to rest,


We stand in tension,
United and yet quite apart.
I watch you move,
then follow slowly,deviating quietly,
creating my own patterns within your tanglements.

~ LL, 7th January 2010

The cold light of dawn

It’s morning and the cold light of dawn strikes me between the eyes, I’m musing.

 Shall I write a potted history of my journey so far, or live hard and tell the tale, letting the history unfold as the year unravels?

Plan B I think. Live hard and tell the tale. Restricted use of images and dialogue. I’ll cut a new path in tango as sharp as a blade on ice. LizzyLashes, every step leaving it's mark.

~ LL, 7th January 2010

A dress and a beginning

It was snowing hard, and I was deep into action on Ebay bidding furiously for that little coast number. It was fucking freezing, The text chat popped up, desperately trying to kill it off I agreed to what ever in the last few frenzied minutes of bidding,

It was a cool little number and believe me the Bramshaw set are hard to penetrate. It would take a few well put together outfits and some exquisite heels before the alpha males in that room would even glance in my direction. And it just so happened I was a tanguera on a mission.

It was later when I found a link to a blog that it twigged what I’d agreed to. Write a blog and tell the world was I was doing? Not a chance! Yet, the idea of anonymity beguiled me. Only he and I would know, and let’s be honest it will knock the pants off the Diary of Ann Frank.

So, let me set the scene. I’m at the start of the most exciting year of my life, been dancing tango for three years and have one year from here to next to make my mark on your world.

I intend to share all.

Let the party commence!

~ Lizzie's Lashes, 6th January 2010