Simple Is Beautiful

In societies of scarcity, simplicity and frugality arise from necessity. But in our age of abundance, excess has become the norm. Tasks once handled with a basic kitchen knife are now assigned to a host of gadgets—one for chopping eggs, another for slicing meat, one for tomatoes, another for peeling apples, and yet another for shredding cucumbers. Our kitchens overflow with clutter, reflecting the complexity that permeates our homes, shopping malls, governments, and tax codes. Our national debt has surpassed $14 trillion, with $350 billion paid annually in interest alone—yet we continue spending as though our resources are infinite. Commercial culture bombards us with increasingly bizarre ads, each louder and more desperate for attention than the last. It’s no wonder that many young people now mistake eccentricity for beauty. Punk hairstyles, tattoos, piercings, sagging pants—these are less aesthetic statements than desperate bids to be seen.

The way we dance tango mirrors this cultural excess. At its core, tango is a simple dance, but we insist on complicating it. In Argentina, it is danced with natural, modest, and unpretentious steps. Here, it is often burdened with flashy, exaggerated, and awkward movements. Simplicity is an acquired taste we have yet to cultivate. We equate complexity with sophistication, peculiarity with beauty. While Argentine tango honors the music, the emotion, the connection, and the shared harmony between partners, our version tends to be dominated by theatrical footwork, revealing costumes, extravagant venues, and lavish festivals. 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 often unlocks 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 a beautiful dance. Our 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 often imitated. Yet, in our relentless pursuit of it, beauty has gradually 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 a host of unintended consequences. While a beautiful woman may enjoy certain privileges, she may also face significant challenges. She might become entitled or superficial, ill-prepared for life’s harsher realities. Her desirability may attract unwanted attention, jealousy, or competition, making trust and genuine connection harder to come by. As a result, she may become 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. It reveals 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. Instead, they focus 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 to 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—as we grow into more mature dancers. (See The Conceptual Beautify of Tango.)