My youngest sister often mocks me (yes, mocks) because when I dance, I point.
Apparently, this is hilarious, and given that there’s more than seven years between us, this could rightly be classed as a bit of cross-generational mocking. I point when I dance because when I started going out dancing, in the late 1990s, that’s how we danced.
A fact that was confirmed last Friday, when CC and I with some others, headed to the Jazz Cafe in Camden for a 90s club night. Imagine my delight when I found myself in a room full of people who all pointed when they danced. It was like a homecoming.
It also made me realise how rosy my memory of 90s music is. I had forgotten the existence of tracks by the Vengaboys and the Scatman. Boom boom boom (I want you in my room) and Ooh aah (Just a little bit) had been erased from my mind. The 90s of my memory were halcyon musical days filled with Blur and Faithless, when you could only like either indie OR dance, not both and. I’ve tried to make a list of what I think I thought they played when I went out in Blackpool in the 90s. But I suspect we actually DID dance to the Vengaboys and 2 Unlimited…
Hearing the actual soundtrack to your sixth form years was a bit disconcerting. I felt like I should be looking around me anxiously every five minutes, checking that the girls I’d come out with hadn’t pulled randoms and gone home without me. I realised I was wearing a skirt that finished several inches above my knee, whereas when I was 17, I’d have been out in something completely floorlength and absolutely unrevealing. I feel very different now.
But I still point when I dance.