So long, spontaneity?

When I first came to Germany, back in 1996, one of the strangest aspects of culture shock was what I called "unspontaneous dancing". I'd been alerted to this to some extent in Austrian ski resorts, but this still couldn't prepare me for the weirdly robotic and joyless spectacle of what the Germans call Disco Fox. The low point had to be seeing a couple grimly going through the mechanical motions to Smoke on the Water. It was enough to make me want hail a taxi to the airport and hop on the first plane back.

Of course, these days, hailing taxis and hopping on planes seem like quaint memories of the past. We have all read enough articles showing how the COVID-19 crisis has accelerated trends in behaviour that were going on anyway. I commented already some years ago about the reduction of (positive) surprise in our lives, both online and offline.

It's apparent in communication and keeping in touch, where phone calls are scheduled, both business and private, and even meetings with friends are organised with the precision of a military operation - aided and abetted by all sorts of apps and software as well as both virtual and real assistants, planners, coaches and organisers.

Even before the crisis, the entire travel, hospitality and leisure industry was going this way with all-important checks on TripAdvisor, and extensive online research even for a trip to the pub. Serendipity was already on its way out of the window for many people who pooh-poohed the "real god of travellers":

All the strangeness, all the distinctiveness of a country will utterly escape you as you are led and your steps are no longer guided by the real god of travellers, chance. - Stefan Zweig, 1926 'To Travel or be Travelled'

After all, who needs strangeness? These days, "stranger" equals "danger" more than ever.

As the world emerges from lockdown, it's clear that chance should play as small a role as possible. It's a world where everything should be controlled, scheduled and traced. Safety and security have become idealised virtues: stay safe, safe spaces. Safety is what is known. Or what we think is known, that is, predictable. And we are armed with templates, frameworks, algorithms and tools to  box in, clarify and capture anything that might care to be numinous, elusive or inexplicable.

But, I wonder. While jumping on planes with gay abandon and merrily ticking off bucket-lists might become a thing of the past, maybe more conscious travel and the knowledge that things don't always go to plan may just open a door to discovering things off the beaten track?

And with social distancing the order of the day could those standardised dance moves foxtrot their way back to the 1980s and make room for something a little more inventive and expressive?

Get Real

Spontaneous acts of dancing in public places, singalong-an-employee, makeovers for your face, your wardrobe, your home, your children and your pets: the appetite from clients and agencies to produce chunks of "realism" as brand communication seems never-ending. It's fuelled by the public obsession with all things Reality Show, of course, and by the mantra that brands should be doing rather than simply telling a well-chosen message or two.

The thinking behind this is all sound enough. Yes, brands should show how they make a difference in real people's lives, rather than merely projecting some sort of unrealistic and insubstantial image. But maybe we should stop and think about what exactly we are doing here.

"Reality" may not always be the answer. "Reality" may be, all too often, the warts and all approach that rides roughshod over dreams and desires. And "reality", as in Reality TV, can mean the very opposite of identification on the part of the viewer. As often as not, this sort of treatment creates distance, from the mild "there but for the grace of God go I" through mocking and Schadenfreude to the full blown freak show.

Rather than "reality", perhaps we should be looking to Real Life to connect and to invite personal identification. Real Life is about what makes real human beings tick - their dreams, hopes and desires. And this can be portrayed better through a piece of beautifully constructed and produced fiction than through that latest makeover for Mr Freak's warts.

Foxtrot Tango Disco

One aspect of German, Swiss and Austrian life that I've always found intriguing, if a little alarming is the rather regimented partner dancing that seems to go on wherever there's music. I first noticed this on ski holidays to Austria in the late 80s and early 90s.

Typically, a lady with a formidable "helmet" hairstyle and severe glasses would grab a man with a grumpy moustache and a paint-splash shirt and the two would march around the dancefloor with looks of grim determination on their faces. Woe betide anyone that should cross their path! Usually this would be to the accompaniment of some ghastly "eurodisco" song - "Macho, Macho" comes to mind.

I'd sigh with uncharacteristic relief as the DJ put on a fast techno beat. Surely they weren't going to dance in that manner to this? Oh, yes they were! It was as if someone had simply wound their clockwork motors up a tick faster.

You can probably gather that I am not a huge fan of Discofox, as this dance style calls itself, and I will not be signing up for a course at my local dance school. But each to their own, I suppose. Discofox has been on the scene in Germany, Austria and Switzerland since the 1970s, inspired partly by Saturday Night Fever, partly by the foxtrot and other ballroom styles and partly by the love of Germanic types for regimented but energetic movement.

But maybe I am too quick to criticise. Far from being a fad or trend for people who were young in the 70s or 80s, the younger generations are also taking to Discofox. A recent survey showed that half of the 15-20 year olds asked have taken part in a dance course and 38% claim to enjoy dancing with a partner as much or more as on their own.

The only thing that remains to be seen is whether these young people also adopt the helmet hairstyles and grumpy moustaches.