It usually takes a few tequilas to get even the best of us dancing, but tonight I’m stone cold sober, in my trainers and about to learn a dance routine to Baby Boy by Beyonce. The principle of this class is to learn a new routine to a song from the pop icon’s arsenal of hits. You copy the instructor’s moves step-by-step until you have it. Sounds easy enough in theory.
We begin with some attitude-heavy pacing, hip gyrating and a lot of stomping, but clearly we’re not doing well. Our instructor yells: “I don’t want to see you walking to Tesco, I want to see attitude! Walk like you’re in killer bitch-heels and you’re holding a couple of guns.”
Despite us all whacking each other in the face a few times – the studio is very packed – everyone gets into it. The moves are a challenge, but they’re not impossible. Soon we’re shaking our hips and strutting our stuff. And, although I look more like a dad doing the robot than a slinky backing dancer, I’m having far too much fun to care.
It’s not non-stop cardio, but because you’re shaking it like Miss Knowles, it definitely feels like it’s bringing you one step closer to those hotpants. Clare Vooght
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Train: Shoreditch High Street
