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The life of a twenty-first century ballerina often means jumping from one persona to the next, out of pointe shoes and into socks, tattered technique shoes, bare feet and bruises. For three hours we are bunheaded and floating, while the next three have us rolling through the floor, hair and hips flying loose and low.

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Of course, this can wreak havoc on the structure of the ever-important feet and ankles, dramatic shifts in positioning and pressure causing all kinds of inflammation, irritation, and injury. Our February program jumps from balletic Serenade to apocalyptic Smoke & Mirrors and creature-like Coma, and all I can say is THANK YOU, SHOCKS.

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With compression in the arch and ankle, the Performance Shocks from Apolla are saving my feet. They hug just the right areas to provide support and protection, while still allowing the toes to shape and the heel to ground into the floor.

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Before a long day in pointe shoes, (my feet and) I love taking barre in my Apolla’s. They give me the perfect lift without being restricting or bulky. Ah, can a person truly love a pair of socks, you ask? I’ve rambled on and on about all of their many benefits, but for now let’s check out some close up glam shots and find out how well they really perform…

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Oooooh, aaahhhhh. Who knew a pair of socks could make me feel some kinda way? If you’re looking for a date this Valentine’s Day, might I recommend a fresh pair of Performance Shocks? Just kidding…kind of.

In you’re interested, Apolla is offering a discount to STB readers! Use the code SETTING*THE*BARRE19 for 10% off at checkout.

All photos by Jenay Evans for STB.

happy feet

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I’ve mentioned how picky dancers can be about their leotards, their pointe shoes, and their diet.  But, for me, no stronger proclivity exists than that of my selectiveness when it comes to socks.  I have been known to wear exclusively unmatching socks, like the tragic result of a greedy dryer, but on purpose.  Why, you ask?  I wish I had a proper response, but I suppose I’m just an odd duck.

As a child (I’ve been told) my sneakered, booted, and mary-janed days included nothing short of twenty shoe-removal-sock-adjustment breaks.  My little feet just couldn’t bear the feeling of a thick seam traversing the tips of my toes, a wrinkle under the metatarsal, or- mon dieu!- the dreaded heel slip.  Talk about a brat Princess and the Pea situation…

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