Matthias hat es in die New York Times geschafft.
At the dance school, Mathias Brandstetter looked over my wet boots and jeans. “You can go to the dressing room to change your clothes,” he said. I emerged in dress shoes. All around me dance students and their partners moved toward the studios. Every woman wore a skirt. “You don’t have other clothes?” Mr. Brandstetter asked me. “No matter,” he sighed. “It’s a private lesson. Let us begin.”
In 20 minutes I was whirling around the oak-paneled room to a waltz, breathless, cheeks flushed. “Head turned to the left, your hand above my bicep, below my shoulder, soften your knees,” intoned Mr. Brandstetter. “One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. And relax!”