Shoes hold a sacred place in a dancer’s life. From the first time you rise above the box of fresh slippers, hear the clatter of metal faucets on the floor, or stand under the force of heels, a meaningful connection is born. Many dancers’ careers are literally sustained by the shoes they cherish (or, if blistered, curse). Here are three dancers on their beautiful shoelaces.

Olivia Boisson – Corps Dancer, New York City Ballet

PHOTO BY QUINN WHARTON.

Having the right shoe is so important. It should be an extension of your body, and that takes work and patience to find. I am so happy that Freed came out with a bronze color so that not only do my shoes fit my feet, but they also match my skin tone and body line. NYCB switched to flesh colored shoes during the pandemic and I think it was wonderful.

I remember getting my first pair of slippers at Capezio when I was 11 years old. I was super excited but had no idea how hard it would be to articulate the legs or even just be on top. I think my first pointe lesson was half an hour long and after only 10 minutes I wanted to take them off. They looked beautiful but it really hurt!

I’ve been wearing the same shoe maker since I was at the School of American Ballet. Maltese cross. My shoe specs are size 6, 1X, forte-flex heel pin and 3/4 shank. I can go through a pair of slippers every rehearsal, but I try to wear them for about two days each. (I remember wearing my first pair of slippers for a whole year!) I spend every spare minute sewing so I don’t end up in dead shoes. It’s actually kind of meditative and strengthens my relationship with shoes.

Michelle Dorrance – Tap dancer and Artistic Director of Dorrance Dance

PHOTO BY QUINN WHARTON.

My shoes are my voice. They are responsible for the tone, texture and essence of my sound, and my sound is one of the most important parts of my artistry. Faucet shoes can be supportive or disruptive. When you walk into a new pair, they still don’t sound like you, and you have to spend a significant amount of time getting them to the right place. You wear them until they become part of your body.

My first pair of tap shoes were Mary Janes. I now wear custom Capezio K360s in charcoal gray because I think they sound the most like my voice. I wore my latest pair for four years and they finally ran out. The heel cap is done, I can fold the heel down to the base of the shoe – you shouldn’t be able to do that – and there’s a leather support structure that’s gone. I’m finally getting into a new pair.

The worst is when your faucets are worn down to the perfect spot, but the holes where the screws go are removed. I will use anything from a match to a toothpick to small pieces of metal mesh and super glue to hold the screw in place. It becomes something you carry with you, in addition to a screwdriver, to make sure you don’t lose the faucet during performances or rehearsals. Otherwise, it’s the fastest way to put a huge hole in the floor!

PHOTO BY QUINN WHARTON.

Hector Invictus Lopez – Heel dancer, teacher and choreographer

PHOTO BY QUINN WHARTON.

The first time I danced in heels I was told it was a waste of time. It was 2014 and most people thought I should focus on my masculine energy. But I couldn’t get it out of my mind, so I went shoe hunting with a friend and bought a pair of black strappy shoes—the only ones in the store that came in a size 12. I was surprisingly very comfortable in them from the jump. I’m hyperextended with a slight rocker back, which works well for heels, and I felt really confident and secure.

I wear Burju shoes—I actually have my own collection with them called Pump with Pride. They have sizes up to 15 readily available which is amazing because when I first started I struggled to find shoes that fit. My favorite is a pair I created with an open insole with a zipper on one side and laces that go up the back and wrap around the ankle. It gives you the security of a boot with the freedom of a pump.

Dancing in heels forced me to confront the way I view gender expression. I’m Latino and I grew up in the Bronx, so I had many layers of machismo to shed. I used to wear my heels and club and then I wanted to take them off as soon as possible so I could be comfortable in my masculinity. I am now much more confident in exploring all the nuances of who I am. I am very grateful to heels for the opportunity to explore my identity more fully.

PHOTO BY QUINN WHARTON.



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