Paola Tacchetti

Zhou Dunyi (1017–1073), a Confucian scholar of the Northern Song Dynasty (960–1127), wrote a beautiful essay titled On the Love of the Lotus. Below is an English translation:

"There are many kinds of lovely flowers and plants. Tao Yuanming of the Jin Dynasty loved only chrysanthemums. Since the Tang Dynasty, admiration for peonies has become fashionable. But my favorite is the lotus: it emerges from the mud unstained, bathed by clear waters yet never coquettish. A symbol of purity, modesty, and perfection, it stands serenely, its fragrance spreading far and wide—something to be revered from a distance, not to be sullied. To me, the chrysanthemum is the hermit among flowers, the peony the aristocrat, and the lotus the true gentleman. Alas, few have loved the chrysanthemum since Tao Yuanming, and none love the lotus as I do. The peony, however, is adored by many."

This passage came to mind the first time I saw Paola Tacchetti dance tango. It was many years ago in Buenos Aires. She was still very young then, dancing socially at Salon Canning. Amid a crowd of seasoned dancers, she stood out—like a lotus rising gracefully above the water. Her partner, a well-known milonguero, kissed her hand after their dance, a gesture of admiration that left a lasting impression on me.

I was reminded of the essay again recently while watching some old videos of Paola dancing from that same period. Her style captivated me then, and it still does now. She dances with an effortless authenticity, free of pretense. There is a quiet, intrinsic beauty in her movement—one that stands in stark contrast to the contrived and showy trends so common today. Such innocence in tango is rare nowadays.

Tango reflects a dancer's character, values, aesthetic sensibilities, and taste. True beauty is like the lotus—natural, simple, modest, authentic, and gentlemanly in spirit, never ostentatious or arrogant. I hope Zhou Dunyi’s words might inspire more dancers to embody this spirit—just as Paola Tacchetti does, especially in our current age of spectacle and artifice.

Two Tangos, Different Charms

We often describe Latin dances like rumba, cha-cha, and samba as passionate, fiery, and sexy. Tango, however, has outgrown those labels. Today, we speak of tango in terms like elegant, graceful, and soulful—a dance that once shared the same Latin roots, but has since taken a different path. Over time, tango has been refined and gentrified, transforming from its origins in brothels into the polished art form of Tango de Salon.

Yet once upon a time, tango was that hot, sexy, passionate Latin dance.

When we compare the two forms, we notice some striking differences:

1. Tango de Salon is danced at a slower, more measured pace, while early tango was livelier and quicker.

2. In Tango de Salon, the steps are broad and expansive; in early tango, they were small and compact.

3. In Tango de Salon, the woman’s hips move in a moderate manner, staying relatively parallel to the man’s. In early tango, her hips moved more freely, often creating a striking contrast—sometimes perpendicular to the man’s stance.

4. Tango de Salon emphasizes elegance and harmony between partners. Early tango leaned into bold expressions of gender identity and sensual tension.

5. Tango de Salon focuses on subtle, inward feeling. Early tango emphasizes dramatic visual flair.

Both styles have their own allure—one radiates maturity and refinement, the other bursts with energy and passion.

The fact that earlier tango has largely disappeared, to me, is something of a loss. I believe it still holds aesthetic value. Its techniques—as the couple in the video below attempts to recreate—are worth revisiting and studying.

But the evolution of human aesthetics follows its own logic, one that transcends personal preference. Perhaps, as a general rule, the idea that "Elegance is the only beauty that never fades," as Audrey Hepburn once said, explains tango’s transformation. Passion may burn brightly and then fade—but elegance, it seems, endures. (See Embracing Elegance.)

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).