If Ian Eastwood Were Your Dance Partner
Photo by Erin Baiano
(Inspired by
this.)
If Ian Eastwood were your dance partner, your hair game would instantly improve by about 100 points. So would your hat game.
If Ian Eastwood were your dance partner, he’d occasionally come into rehearsals with notes on the choreo…from Justin Bieber.
If Ian Eastwood were your dance partner, you’d already have blocked off the entire month of April for High Strung premiere parties. He’d have let you know the dates weeks in advance, because he’s conscientious about “respecting your time.”
If Ian Eastwood were your dance partner, he’d occasionally hide custom old-school mixtapes in your dance bag, complete with little handwritten notes. You don’t have a tape player, but you’d cherish them anyway.
If Ian Eastwood were your dance partner, he’d have an adorable new nickname for you by the end of each rehearsal. On the anniversary of your partnership, he’d present you with a sweatshirt on which he’d artfully graffiti-ed all of them—even the ones you’d long since forgotten.
If Ian Eastwood were your dance partner, you’d suddenly find that jumpsuits looked amazing on you. Like, literally every jumpsuit, even the ones that no human body should realistically inhabit.
If Ian Eastwood were your dance partner, he’d end rehearsals by taking out his digital Leica and shooting casually incredible black-and-white photographs of you freestyling. He’d only post the ones where you looked REALLY pretty to Insta. No filter.
If Ian Eastwood were your dance partner, he wouldn’t tolerate self-negging. He’d force you to stare at yourself in the mirror before every performance and repeat: “I am a goddess. I am a goddess. I AM A GODDESS.” And with his support, you’d be able to do it. Un-ironically.
If Ian Eastwood were your dance partner, you’d expect to meet him at the indie coffee shop downtown to talk through choreo ideas. But he’d propose Dunkin Donuts. Because he’s chill like that. (And he knows you like their coffee better, anyway.)
If Ian Eastwood were your dance partner, you’d find yourself sitting between Tricia Miranda and Dave Scott at The PULSE gala. For his sake, you’d keep yourself from hyperventilating until the subway ride home afterward.
Photo by Erin Baiano
