Simple Is Beautiful

In societies of scarcity, people value simplicity and frugality. But in wealthy nations like ours, extravagance and waste are the norm. Tasks that others accomplish with a single kitchen knife we assign to an array of specialized gadgets — one for chopping meat, another for slicing tomatoes, another for peeling apples, another for shredding cucumbers. Our homes overflow with clutter, a reflection of the complexity that pervades our shopping malls, our government, and our military. Today, our national debt has surged past $14 trillion, with $350 billion drained each year just to cover the interest — yet we spend as if resources were infinite. Meanwhile, consumer culture assaults us with increasingly bizarre advertisements, each louder and more desperate than the last. It’s little wonder that many young people now confuse eccentricity with beauty. Punk hairstyles, tattoos, piercings, sagging pants — these are less expressions of taste than cries for attention.

The way we dance tango reflects this same cultural excess. At heart, tango is a simple, intimate dance, yet we insist on making it unnecessarily complicated. In Argentina, it’s danced with natural, understated steps, focusing on inward feelings. Here, it often becomes a display of flashy, exaggerated, and awkward moves. Simplicity is an acquired taste that we have yet to cultivate. We mistake complexity and peculiarity for beauty. While Argentine tango is rooted in music, emotion, and the connection shared between partners, our version tends to emphasize theatrical footwork, revealing costumes, opulent venues, and extravagant festivals. In this shift, substance gives way to spectacle.

I advocate for an aesthetic grounded in simplicity and authenticity. Nature’s beauty lies in its quiet elegance. A light touch of makeup feels more genuine than layers of concealer. A home with simple, uncluttered decor is more inviting than one overrun with gaudy ornaments. Clear, concise writing communicates more powerfully than verbose prose. Silence often speaks louder than words. Excess can distract rather than enhance—and this is especially true in tango. Simple steps radiate elegance, allowing dancers to connect more deeply with the music and each other, creating an intimate, inward-focused dialogue. As I’ve discussed elsewhere (see The Advantages of Simplicity over Flashy Movements), simplicity in art can unlock unexpected, often superior, outcomes. A dance video that recreates a traditional Chinese painting exemplifies this beautifully.

The same principle holds true in tango. A master dancer can evoke profound beauty with minimal movement, embodying the idea that "simplicity is the ultimate sophistication." This subtle artistry is lost on those fixated on surface-level flash. Tango should not be an extravagant luxury, but a quiet joy—a deeply personal experience that doesn’t require lavish spending. As dancers, we must resist the pull of commercialism and superficiality, and instead focus on what truly matters. Just as a woman with inner grace captivates more deeply than one relying solely on appearance, tango moves us not with spectacle, but with connection and feeling. Strip away the performance, and what remains is something more genuine, more profound—and ultimately, more beautiful (see The Conceptual Beauty of Tango).

True Beauty Comes from Within

We love tango in part because it is beautiful. This appreciation for beauty is deeply ingrained in human nature. Just as flowers bloom and birds sing to attract mates, beauty offers an evolutionary advantage—enhancing our chances of connection, survival, and success. For this reason, beauty is sought after, admired, and imitated. Yet, in our relentless pursuit of it, beauty has shifted from something natural and authentic to something artificial and, at times, deceptive.

This fixation on appearances often comes at the expense of substance, leading to unintended consequences. While a beautiful woman may enjoy certain privileges, she also faces unique challenges. She may become entitled or superficial, ill-prepared for life’s harsher realities. Her desirability can attract unwanted attention, jealousy, or competition, making trust and genuine connection more elusive. As a result, she may grow guarded, aloof, or mistrustful—living a life that is far from carefree. Everything has a cost. Beauty is only skin-deep, and it is neither the only thing nor the most important thing—in life or in tango.

Just as an obsession with appearance can blind us to inner qualities, an infatuation with flashy steps can obscure the true essence of tango: connection, emotion, and feeling. Without these, tango becomes an empty performance. True beauty in tango comes from within—revealing itself in the commitment, understanding, musicality, agreement, and harmony between partners. If you visit Buenos Aires, you’ll see this in the way the milongueros dance. They pay little attention to showy moves, focusing instead on the relationship, the music, and the shared feeling—and their dance is so compelling that it’s often imitated by outsiders who fail to grasp its essence.

Tango is still young in the United States. It takes time and maturity to move beyond superficiality and understand what true beauty really means. The more I dance with women of all ages, the more I appreciate those who are mature. Even in Buenos Aires, I’ve found that older women tend to be better dancers overall. As their youthful freshness fades, they begin to embrace the deeper, more meaningful aspects of the dance. My hope is that, as tango continues to evolve in our country, we too will move beyond surface-level aesthetics and embrace the substance of this art form—growing into more mature dancers. (See The Conceptual Beautify of Tango.)