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Entertainment

Jacques d’Amboise, an Early Male Star of Metropolis Ballet, Dies at 86

Jacques d’Amboise, who broke stereotypes about male dancers when he helped popularize ballet in America and became one of the most respected male stars in New York Ballet, died Sunday at his Manhattan home. He was 86 years old.

His daughter, actress and dancer Charlotte d’Amboise, said the cause was complications from a stroke.

Mr. d’Amboise embodied the ideal of a purely American style that combined the nonchalant elegance of Fred Astaire with the classicism of the Danseur nobleman. He was the first male star to emerge from the City Ballet’s School of American Ballet, joining the company’s corps in 1949 at the age of 15. Its extensive presence and versatility were central to the company’s identity in the first few decades.

He had choreographed 24 roles and became the lead interpreter of the title role in George Balanchine’s seminal “Apollo” before leaving the company in 1984, a few months before his 50th birthday. He has also choreographed 17 works for the city ballet, as well as many pieces for the students of the National Dance Institute, a program he founded and directed.

The energy, athleticism, infectious smile of Mr. d’Amboise (which critic Arlene Croce once likened to that of the Cheshire Cat), and the appeal of a boy next door made him popular with audiences and made ballet more attractive to boys in a world of tutus and pink toe shoes.

He also helped bring the ballet to a wider audience, danced on Ed Sullivan’s show (then called “Toast of the Town”), played important roles in several film musicals from the 1950s, including “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” and ” Carousel “, and has appeared in appealing” Americana “ballets such as Lew Christensen’s” Gas Station “and Balanchine’s” Who Cares? ” In the early 1980s he directed, choreographed and wrote a number of dance films.

Although Mr. d’Amboise was never seen as a virtuoso dancer, his repertoire was demanding and extraordinarily broad, ranging from the princely “Apollo” to the daring head cowboy of Balanchine’s “Western Symphony”. He was one of the company’s best partners, including the cavalier of ballerinas Maria Tallchief, Melissa Hayden, Allegra Kent and Suzanne Farrell.

Mr. d’Amboise, Clive Barnes wrote in the New York Times in 1976, “is not just a dancer, he is an institution.”

Mr. d’Amboise was astonished when Balanchine invited him to the City Ballet in 1949, one year after the start of the first season. He was 15 years old. “I can’t do it, I have to finish school,” he recalled in his autobiography of “I was a dancer” (2011). His father advised him to become a stage worker, but his mother loved the idea and Mr d’Amboise left school to dance professionally, as did his sister Madeleine, who was known professionally as Ninette d’Amboise.

Although Balanchine was generally more interested in creating roles for his dancers than his male performers, Mr. d’Amboise identified with many of the key roles Balanchine played in ballets such as “Western Symphony” (1954), “Stars and Stripes” ( 1958), “Jewels” (1967), “Who Cares” (1970) and “Robert Schumanns Davidsbundlertanze” (1980). Early in his career, he also created roles in ballets by John Cranko and Frederick Ashton, and received praise for this. (“Balanchine was upset” with the Cranko Commission, he wrote in his autobiography.)

In a 2018 interview, urban ballet dancer Adrian Danchig-Waring described the qualities that Mr. d’Amboise embodied as a dancer: “There is this machismo that is sometimes needed on stage – this bravery, this boasting, this self-confidence and us all I have to learn to cultivate this and yet it is a huge canon of work. There are poets and dreamers and animals in it. Jacques reminds us that all of this can be contained in one body. “

Mr. d’Amboise was born Joseph Jacques Ahearn on July 28, 1934 in Dedham, Massachusetts, a suburb of Boston, to Andrew and Georgiana (d’Amboise) Ahearn. His father’s parents were immigrants from Galway, Ireland; his mother was French-Canadian. In search of work, his parents moved the family to New York City, where his father found a job as an elevator operator at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital. The family settled in Washington Heights in Upper Manhattan. To keep Jacques, as he was called, off the streets, when he was 7 years old, his mother and sister Madeleine enrolled him in Madam Seda’s ballet class on 181st Street.

After six months, the siblings moved to the School of American Ballet, founded in 1934 by Balanchine and Lincoln Kirstein. Energetic and athletic, Jacques immediately faced the physical challenges of ballet. After less than a year he was selected by Balanchine for the role of Puck in a production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”.

In his autobiography, he wrote of how his mother’s decision had changed his life: “What an extraordinary thing for a street boy with gang friends. Half grew up cops and half grew up gangsters – and I became a ballet dancer! “

In 1946 his mother persuaded his father to change the family name from Ahearn to d’Amboise. Her explanation, wrote Mr. d’Amboise in “I was a dancer”, was that the name was aristocratic and French and “sounds better for ballet”.

After joining City Ballet, Mr. d’Amboise soon danced solo roles, including starring in Lew Christensen’s “Filling Station,” which led to an invitation from film director Stanley Donen to join the cast of “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.” (1954).

In 1956 he married the soloist of the city ballet Carolyn George, who died in 2009. In addition to his daughter Charlotte, his two sons George and Christopher, a choreographer and former main dancer of the city ballet, survive. another daughter, Catherine d’Amboise (she and Charlotte are twins); and six grandchildren. Two brothers and his sister died before him.

Mr. d’Amboise starred in two films in 1956 – “Carousel” alongside Gordon MacRae and Shirley Jones and Michael Curtiz’s “The Best Things In Life Are Free”. But he remained committed to ballet and balanchine.

“People said, ‘You could be the next Gene Kelly,” said Mr. d’Amboise in a 2011 interview with the Los Angeles Times. “I didn’t know if I could act, but I knew I was a great ballet dancer could be, and Balanchine laid the carpet for me. “

His faith was rewarded when Balanchine revived his “Apollo” in 1957, the ballet that marked his first collaboration with Igor Stravinsky in 1928, and cast Mr. d’Amboise in the title role. For this production, Balanchine took off the original, elaborate costumes and dressed Mr. d’Amboise in tights and a simple scarf over one shoulder.

It was a turning point in his career; Dancing, wrote Mr d’Amboise, “became so much more interesting, an odyssey towards your Excellency.” The role, he felt, was also his story, as Balanchine had explained to him: “A wild, untamed youth learns nobility through art.”

For the next 27 years, Mr. d’Amboise continued to be a strong member of the city ballet, creating roles and appearing in some of Balanchine’s major ballets, including Concerto Barocco, Meditation, Violin Concerto and Movements for piano and violin . “

Encouraged by Balanchine, he also choreographed regularly for the company, although the reviews of his work have mostly been lukewarm. In his autobiography, he wrote that both Balanchine and Kirstein had assured him that one day he would lead the city ballet, but Peter Martins and Jerome Robbins took over the company after Balanchine’s death in 1983.

Mr d’Amboise appeared to have resigned himself to this result: he withdrew from the performance the next year and turned to the National Dance Institute, which brings dance to public schools, which he founded in 1976.

The institute grew out of the Saturday morning ballet class for boys that Mr d’Amboise began to teach in 1964, motivated by the desire that his two sons learn to dance without being the only boys in the class. The classes were expanded to include girls and moved to numerous public schools.

Now the goal is to offer free courses to everyone, regardless of the child’s background or ability. Today the institute teaches thousands of New York City children ages 9-14 and is affiliated with 13 dance institutes around the world. The Harlem-based institute where Mr d’Amboise lived was featured in Emile Ardolino’s 1983 Oscar winning documentary “He Makes Me Feel Like a Dancer”.

“That second chapter brought something more fulfilling than my career as an individual artist,” wrote Mr d’Amboise in his autobiography. He told the story of a little boy who, after many attempts, had succeeded in mastering a dance sequence: “He was on the way to discovering that he could take control of his body and learn from it to take control of his life . “

For his contribution to arts education, Mr. d’Amboise has received a MacArthur Fellowship in 1990, a Kennedy Honors Award in 1995, and a New York Governor’s Award, among others.

He saw himself as a dancer all his life, but was also a passionate New Yorker. When asked in a 2018 article in The Times that he wanted his ashes scattered, he replied, “Spread me out in Times Square or the Belasco Theater.”

Categories
Business

L’Oreal targets male magnificence, new customers in MENA, South Asia

A newly created market in the South Asia Pacific and the Middle East will account for most of L’Oreal’s new business for the next decade – men make up a large chunk of that, the French cosmetics giant said.

The combined geographic zone – known internally as SAPMENA – will cover 35 markets in South Asia Pacific, the Middle East and North Africa. Headquartered in Singapore, the new zone is in response to shared consumer trends and growth opportunities, said region president Vismay Sharma.

“This region, or SAPMENA as we call it … will be an important growth engine for us. This is where we will win the most consumers in the next ten years,” he told CNBC on Wednesday.

The move also makes sense demographically, Sharma said. Overall, 40% of the world’s population live in the region, with an average age of 28 years.

“Over 40% of consumers (in the region) are under 25,” he said. “That makes it extremely exciting for us and a very strategic market for the future.”

The 112-year-old company is trying to adapt to changing consumer habits and new markets, despite holding up relatively well during the pandemic. Revenue rose 10.2% in the first quarter of 2021, nearing pre-pandemic levels.

kyonntra | E + | Getty Images

However, Sharma said the coronavirus crisis boosted certain categories like health and wellness, as well as the demand for sustainable products.

The demand for male cosmetics has also increased recently. Japanese beauty company Shiseido reportedly saw double-digit growth in one of its male makeup lines in 2020 as male consumers became more aware of their looks during pandemic video conferencing.

Sharma said he expected interest in male cosmetics to continue, particularly in the SAPMENA region.

Especially in Asia we can see that men are much more critical about their skin, about the scents they wear, about their hair

Vismay Sharma

President (SAPMENA), L’Oreal

“In the past, men didn’t use enough beauty products – so penetration was much lower, per capita consumption was much lower, and frequency of use was much lower,” he said.

Now, “especially in Asia, we can see that men put a lot more emphasis on their skin, the scents they wear, their hair,” he continued.

“This part is going to be extremely interesting. In terms of growth percentages, we’re seeing significant growth in this part.”

However, in absolute terms, women will remain a significantly larger consumer base of beauty products for some time, he noted.

Categories
World News

Turkey’s Coffeehouses, a Hub of Male Social Life, Could Not Survive Virus

ISTANBUL – For years, Varan Suzme has been visiting the Kiral Coffeehouse near his house, where men from his Istanbul neighborhood chat for hours, sip from tiny, steaming cups, and play backgammon and cards.

“I came here every day,” said Mr Suzme, 77, a retired clothes salesman. “This is our second home. It’s a place I love, I see my friends and I’m happy and I play. “

Until the pandemic. A lockdown earlier this year closed coffeehouses across the country, as well as bars and restaurants, and when the government allowed them to reopen in June it banned the usual games and said they increased the risk of virus transmission.

Customers, mostly middle-aged and retired, stopped coming for fear of the virus, and with banned games, coffee house owners saw business shrink. Even before another lockdown went into effect this month, they feared that the coronavirus could endanger the survival of many coffee houses and rob the country of an essential center of Turkish life.

The Turkish coffee house is a one-of-a-kind men’s reserve, ranging from a post office to a social club that is fueled with cups of coffee – or now, when tastes change, tea. In every neighborhood, from the narrow streets of Istanbul to the ancient cities dotted around the country, men stop on the way to and from work, retirees meet and exchange gossip and political parties.

“We miss our friends and play backgammon,” said Mamuk Katikoy, 70, when he recently came for an interview at the Kiral Coffeehouse in Istanbul’s Yesilkoy district. “I haven’t seen this man in eight months,” he said, greeting a 90-year-old friend who also stopped by.

Several coffee shop owners complained that the religiously conservative government of President Recep Tayyip Erdogan was against the games because of its association with gambling and that the ban was more ideological than hygienic.

The country was already in an economic downturn when the pandemic hit, and with scarce government aid, many businesses were forced to shut down for good.

Several famous cafes in Beyoglu’s artistic district have closed in recent months. They had introduced Italian espresso to Istanbul society – the now closed Simdi Cafe was famous for its espresso machine from the 1960s – and represented a prime of intellectual and artistic life in Turkey.

The traditional Turkish coffee house is a more humble affair where the regulars are mostly workers who play cards, backgammon, and “okey,” a game similar to rummy and played with numbered tiles. Some coffeehouses charge hourly fees for games that are in progress, while others make their living only from the drinks they serve.

But without games, the business between locks was so bad that most of the coffee houses were closed or had few customers. Owners warn that they may have to close permanently without further government help.

“Our stores are empty,” said Murat Agaoglu, head of Turkey’s Federation of Coffee Houses and Buffets, who predicted that 20 percent of the country’s coffee houses would shut down.

That could rob Turkey of a pillar of its communities that is almost as old as drinking coffee. The custom spread from Arabia north to Turkey and further to Europe in the 16th century.

The first coffee houses in Turkey were founded by two Syrian merchants in the Tahtakale district of what was then Constantinople, near the seat of power of the Ottoman Empire and in the teeming streets of the spice bazaar.

“At that moment, Istanbul was one of the most populous cities in the world,” said Cemal Kafadar, Professor of Turkish Studies at Harvard University. “Imagine the commercial potential of this innovation. Within half a century there were hundreds of coffee houses in the city. And since then we have been able to enjoy the blessed brew of this blessed bean privately or publicly. “

The court of the Ottoman sultans dealt with drinking coffee. Artisans made tiny, delicate cups and narrow-necked coffee pots, women began serving coffee to guests in their homes, and men gathered in coffeehouses and smoked tobacco in extravagantly long-stemmed pipes. Later the aqueduct became fashionable.

The coffeehouses became meeting places for business people to socialize, but they also became centers of literary activity and public entertainment. Some had reading rooms or housed storytellers and puppeteers. Many still have names that go back to their Arabic origins: “kahvehane”, which means “coffee house”, and “kiraathane”, which means “reading house”.

The coffeehouses inevitably became centers of political gossip and activism, as they did across Europe, and closed regularly as political agitation increased, Kafadar said.

Updated

Dec. 15, 2020, 3:03 p.m. ET

Over time they lost their standing in the eyes of the more educated urban public and gradually became cheap hangouts for workers. “From the middle of the 19th century, modernizers associated it with idleness and backwardness,” said Kafadar.

The traditional coffeehouses, which are regulated by the government, are allowed to sell tea, coffee, and other soft drinks, including salep, a popular orchid bulb drink from Ottoman times.

The drinks and games, as well as the prices, are listed in the license that is affixed to the wall of the coffee house. The prices are regulated and set low.

They serve traditional Turkish coffee, each cup individually brewed, bitter or sweet to taste, and small glasses of strong black tea. Aqueducts are still listed among the listings, but Mr Erdogan’s government banned indoor use more than a decade ago.

For Guven Kiral it was his life to run a coffee house. He inherited his from his father and moved it to new premises in the same neighborhood.

“This place is like my kid,” he said. “I have a son, but it’s like a second son to me.”

On busy days, 60 people would play, he said, but the pandemic has put an end to that, silencing the shuffling of cards and the sharp click and hit of backgammon pieces.

“When I open, customers come for tea and sit for a while, but then they say, ‘Sorry, there are no games’ and leave,” said Mr Kiral, who fears he will be forced to close down forever. “We’re racing downhill. The pandemic has caused us a great loss. “

He demonstrated his anti-virus hygiene system: spread out disposable tablecloths, break out a new deck of cards for each game, and soak the backgammon counters in detergent. The tables would be widely spaced and even expanded to separate customers, he said.

“The big problem is the ban on games, both for the customers and the people who work in these places,” said Bendevi Palandoken, head of the Turkish Chamber of Crafts, which represents owners and workers in 120,000 coffee houses across the country. “We want the government to reduce the burden of social security and cash benefits for breadwinners.”

A flyer on the wall at the Kiral Coffeehouse reads, “We ask the government, do you care?”

Mr Kiral said he would be heartbroken and lose business.

“For my regular guests, the separation will be the first. You won’t see any more people, ”he said. “We’d lose our jokes, our laughter.”

On a broader level, he said that the entire older generation would be punished. “The costs will be for a specific age group. You will have nowhere to go. “