My Life With Madonna: A Defensive Retrospective

When I was a kid I went to a private, Christian day care and kindergarten. I remember this well. Like too well. I remember the fish tank full of meal and plastic whisks to play in, the smell of the bark on the playground, and the way the door swung out to the fort on the hill. I also have odd memories, too, like Travis Kessler trying to smooch me in said fort, shaking my friend Gwen by the shoulders during playtime and getting a time out, and the bland taste of something I think may have been gruel. Seriously. It was 22-23 years ago, but I swear it was some shade of yellowish-green.

Anyway, graduation from kindergarten was a big deal. You wore a cap and gown, had a formal picture taken in front of a maroon curtain, and were presented with some sort of “diploma.” But what made it less formal and more fun was they asked you before you walked down the aisle what you wanted to be when you grew up, and would announce it while you smiled and pranced proudly toward your diploma.

Now, this was about the time I remember my mother telling me, “Natalie, no singing at the table.” I performed for my parents and sister every dance I ever learned, every song I knew, and each note I recalled on my recorder. I commanded their attention, and one time, my sister and I made up our own little play, in which I was the star performer, and she was my manager, making sure I ate a healthy meal of noodles in lukewarm water “boiled” in my aluminum kitchen playset pots. Yummy. So, I wasn’t especially a very shy child. I mean I was, but not when it came to showing people my skills. As I walked down the aisle for graduation, there was a voice that spoke to the crowd, “Natalie Emery, who wants to be either a nurse or a singer when she grows up.” I smiled like I was on Star Search. Giggles and “awws” scattered amongst the group.

I still want to be a singer. And I also entered my freshman year of college with the intention of going into physical therapy. How I ended up a writing and journalism major, I don’t know. Oh wait, yes I do. Chemistry 121. That sucked.

But what’s strange about my “performance career” has something to do with Madonna. She’s always been around, lurking about when I least expect it. For me, she was the first person I remember thinking, I wanna do that! Not so much the writhing on the ground part, or failed marriages stuff, but I enjoy the fact that she pushes the envelope, likes being political, and feels as though boundaries are a figment of imagination.

So, I present a short-listed version of my life and Madonna:

Age 5, 1987. So on to what I’ve been trying to write about for a while now. I’ve always sang, danced, and liked being onstage. But everything changed one day when my mom bought the “Who’s That Girl” soundtrack on vinyl. The moment I heard that song I was moved. Literally. I instantly started dancing as hard as I could, thrusting my arms around, spinning wildly, and leaping from one foot to the other. I was shakin’ it. It was the first time music had ever made me feel like freaking out, in the most satisfying way. Don’t ask me why exactly it felt so right, but it just did. I was five years old, and already a fascination with Madonna had begun. I liked her short blonde hair—Hey, I had that too!—the red lipstick, the mole on the side of her face. And the girl could move. Apparently, for Madonna, singing was an afterthought. She was a dance major at a Michigan university, and after moving to New York and trying out for musical theatre, she realized that singing was sort of required. I didn’t care about any of this back then, though. She was a raging superstar, and I liked dancing to her music.

Age 8, 1990. The epicness of “Vogue” comes out, and I freak again. I studied the video and then on recess my friends and I did the routine where she pulls both of her arms behind her body, then brings them out straight. “Come on, vogue, let your body move to the music!” In the video she’s wearing a lace see through top, but it was supposed to be a modern nod to former famous starlets, shot on black and white film. In a recent interview, she said she got the idea for the song and video by finding out about a club where dancers were doing a new form they called “vogueing.” This was the Blond Ambition tour with the Jean Paul Gaultier designed cone bras, and long ponytails. It was controversial, provocative, and even the Pope called for a boycott on this tour. If there was a tour to behold, that was it. If I were 17 then and not 8, I would have been there. I will say, I still love this song. There’s something about it that conjures up nostalgia, movement, and glamour. All the talk of old actresses in the bridge, “Betty Davis, we love you,” is another big point of interest too.

I’m not saying Madonna is the reason why I kept dancing, but she sure made it seem easy. And fun. And alluring.

I went on to my next dance adventure, tiring from ballet and tap classes, I enrolled in “jazz dance.” Now, I have no idea why they called it this, because there were no real moves that people in the jazz community would ever do. It was basically a modern hip hop dance class (circa 1990, that is, and we weren’t so “ethnicity savvy” in Kelso, Washington), with music from Sheena Easton or Kylie Minogue. That was a great class, but I remember when we performed, my half-yellow, half-multicolored leopard print leotard outfit which came with a matching sequined headband (creative!), I kept tugging at my shorts, and think my performance was affected.

Age 22, 2004. I’m back at my parent’s house I call the “vacation home” in The Village (a very small town in SW Washington). They just got satellite television, and as I’m flipping through the 479 channels now at my disposal, I stop at MTV2’s coverage of the MTV European Music Awards. And who else was galloping around stage in a purple long-sleeved leotard and thigh high purple Gucci boots than Madge. She moved around the stage in 4-inch heels like they were made for her feet, she had the body of most women half her age wish for, and she had energy. She was dancing to “Hung Up” a song about telling a lover that she can’t wait for them to reciprocate feelings, so she’s done. I personally think “Confessions on a Dance Floor” is one of the best dance albums out there. She told Rolling Stone that she chose to open with “Hung Up” for her newest collection “Celebration” (a double disc compilation of remastered tracks off the original tapes), “Because it’s a badass song.” And she looked badass. She understood how to perform. With her body, and her voice…I wanted those boots.

Age 24, 2006. Grace DeGallier introduces me to the complex, seedy, glorifying world of karaoke. While she sings more challenging material, like “Cold as Ice” and “Bohemian Rhapsody,” I choose “Borderline.” Or maybe she chose it for me. I sing it, and I fall in love with the damn song all over again, somehow once the music’s heavy synth action, and drum machine took hold of me, and soon I was making up dance moves to the part when she sings, “You just keep on pushing my love over the borderline.” I end up using “Borderline” and “Material Girl” in my karaoke repertoire thereafter.

Age 27, 2009. Halloween is about to roll around, and because I’ve already been Margot Tennenbaum, Courtney Love, and Marylin Monroe in the past, I decide to dress as the one blond I appreciated most—yep Madonna. I planned this particular outfit for almost a month. I researched the era of Madonna I felt drawn to.  I settled on the “Lucky Star” era, as most of what I needed to buy was at Forever 21. I found gloves at an adult store downtown, went to a fabric store to get a long piece of black lace for my hair tie, and chopped off a perfectly good pair of leggings to make them shorter, and more authentic of the era. In the week leading up to the event I had created in my mind, I could tell perhaps I was taking this a little too seriously. I studied videos and dance routines. Booked a hair appointment, and purchased a second pair of knockoff Wayfarers. It didn’t help that her newest mega-collection had just come out, and obviously, I was near-obsessed. I think two different people told me, “It’s just a Halloween costume!” when I fussed over wearing a gold rosary with the rest of my silver jewelry. This was real. I take my impersonations rather seriously. On the actual day of Halloween, I felt silly, yet fierce, and more feminine than I had in a long time. If only you could be Madonna every day. She gave me confidence. That night I danced till my quads hurt, and performed her dance from “Lucky Star.” A homeless man winked at me, and someone on 23^rd screamed, “MADONNA!!!!” when I was walking to my car.

People ask me why I like her, and I say it’s because her music has always been at the forefront of pop music. She’s girly, but successful, edgy, yet accessible. Each of her albums have elements of stylized production value, but it remains original in some way. Believe it or not, but Madonna can play the guitar and drums. She’s written the majority of her songs, and has made smart decisions regarding who produces her music, who has guest spots, and what her choreography will be like. Her last tour, Sticky and Sweet is now the highest grossing tour in history.

One of the things I appreciate the most about her is that she is an unapologetic sex symbol, and that holds a certain level of power. Early in her career when nude pictures surfaced, she told reporters she wasn’t sorry and later came out with a book called Sex, where she goes at length to prove sexuality isn’t and shouldn’t be a secret. Does anyone remember the “Erotica” album? Or the naked picture of her with a cigarette and hitchhiking??

But the thing about Madonna’s music is that it’s infectious, poppy without being tired, nostalgic, and plain fun. I made everyone I came in contact with listen to a little bit of “Celebration.” I was driving with my mother and when “Take a Bow” came on, she turned up the volume. I’ve never sang “Material Girl” without a dance floor full of people pretending they’re rich, selective, and wearing diamonds, while having the best time.

Upon throwing it into my friend Kelsey’s CD player in her car without really getting confirmation yes or no, the bass line started in on “Dress You Up.” Kelsey muttered, “I don’t know if I can get down with this…” I waited for the chorus. I was car-dancing when she finally said, “Okay, maybe I can get down with this.”

That’s what I’m talking about.