The Quest for a New Studio

By Michelle

I began teaching over a decade ago at a local ethnic arts studio—the only real belly dance studio in town. My first teacher and mentor was a co-founder of the studio and the thought of moving on never crossed my mind. When she moved to another state, I remained at the studio, committed to keeping the place (which had never been financially secure) solvent and successful. I organized fund raisers to update the décor, tried to network around town for new students and volunteered my and my troupe’s services for nearly every project.

Unfortunately, I soon realized that I was a bit like the unwelcome stepchild of the studio. My hard work was accepted but I was never a part of the inner clique. (Let me make a disclaimer here that even at the time I was not bitter about this fact and this is not a rant about how the dance community couldn’t get along. I merely had progressive ideas and attitudes towards my students which went against the conservative grain of the board of directors.)

A fellow teacher/stepchild had recently left this studio to open her own small dance space in a detached garage in her back yard. She offered me the chance to begin my own classes. It did not take me long to jump at the chance and much to my surprise (although not so surprising in retrospect), many of my former students tracked me down—they too had not felt comfortable in the atmosphere of the old studio.

The garage was small. It was hot in the summer, freezing in the winter and the bathroom was across the yard and in the house. However, it did have mirrors and a suspended finished plywood floors and the atmosphere, thanks to Teri’s and my similar thoughts about teaching, was definitely more welcoming and supportive. My classes slowly grew, although I did lose many students who were turned off by the (for lack of a better word) hippie experience of traipsing through someone’s back yard to dance in a garage. Still, the rent was low and it was great to work with someone who was simpatico with my dance philosophy.

After a year or so, Teri and I were approached by the old studio about taking it over—not, however as owners, merely as directors subject to the board. I drew up a business plan complete with questions about such things as debt, monthly bills, and the tax status. While the answers to my questions were not terribly encouraging, it was more the down-trodden attitude of the owner that turned me off of the proposition. I remembered why I had left the studio in the first place and realized it would be a step back in my quest to support my students and spread my joy of the dance.

It was as I was leaving that meeting that the realization that I could open a studio struck me. Teri agreed that we should set it as a future goal.

Another several months passed and I experienced another epiphany: somewhere along the way, my goals regarding dance as a business had diverged with Teri’s. For her it was a fabulous, mildly lucrative hobby with a close circle of loyal students. I, however, had begun to envision a larger, more expansive and professional studio that would reach more women, encourage them to find their inner beauty through this dance, and help my troupe members grow as teachers. Oh yes, I thought it would be rather nice to make a little money as well. Shortly after that awakening, my troupe girlfriend Kat gave me a little charm she had made and she had endowed it with the power to hope for our own space.

Epiphany number two occurred when Kat and I chanced to meet at the nail salon. While we were buffed and filed, we talked to the shop owner about the size of her space and the monthly rent. It was not a high as we would have guessed—especially since it was located on a busy major street with lots of passing potential customers. The next day we spent our lunchtime driving around the area, taking realtors’ numbers. We were amazed at how many empty office spaces there were! (Kind of like when your buying a home and your eye is attuned to every “For Sale” sign you wouldn’t normally notice!)

We encountered a surprising fact about business later that week when nine out of ten of our calls to these supposedly hungry realtors went unanswered! We’d only left word that we were interested in their location—we hadn’t even mentioned that we were nefarious belly dancers! We followed up on the calls and finally had perhaps a twenty percent call return.

What I quickly had to decide was exactly how much space I needed, and how much I could afford. At this point, my husband--whose joint checking I might have to draw on to get this thing going--asked if I’d drawn up a business plan. While I truly had thought out most of the steps of opening and maintaining a studio, it really helped to put pen to paper. Here are some of the things I considered:

Start up expenses: A friend of mine in a neighboring town, had opened a studio just before my planned opening. She had taken out a rather large business loan—something I was loathe to do. I had a small savings from my classes and video income and my troupe had a larger savings that they were willing to put toward the cause. Nonetheless, it was not going to be cheap. We needed a good dance floor. We needed a good sound system. We needed places for people to stash their stuff while they danced. We needed a water cooler and we needed a nice bathroom. Beyond that, however, I really wanted it to look professional. I wanted a prospective student to walk in to feel welcome and to know that we were serious about her instruction.

Monthly expenses: These included rent, utilities, janitorial supplies, publicity and teacher stipends.

Current income: How many regular students did I currently have and how many would I need to make ends meet? Either way, I had to consider raising my prices as my rent was going up five fold. (In the end, I only raised it about 8% which was $3 a month more per student.) I also took into account miscellaneous income such as the scarves I sold on consignment for Isis Imports and my burgeoning video business.

I made a list of teachers—and not just belly dancers- who may be interested in renting the studio one night a week for their own classes. While ultimately I would like to have my own classes filling every night, all those classes would need students and in the meantime, guaranteed rent from other teachers would help pay the bills.

Publicity/Gaining New Students: I had to consider how I was going to attract new students. I really couldn’t spend a lot, and I had found that word of mouth was the most productive way of gaining students. I did, however, make a list of all the popular venues in town that allowed you to post flyers in their windows. I had not had a lot of local contact through my website, but this was a cheap way to reach a great many people, so I needed to update and upgrade my website.

My troupe members were amazingly supportive of my plans. Those who were interested in developing their teaching skills were willing to forgo pay until they built their class base and all were willing to paint, clean, and spread fliers.

The space: Teri’s studio had about 300 square feet of dance space (I said it was intimate, didn’t I?). I figured I needed double that to expand even marginally. Ideally, I would have loved to have at least 1000 square feet, but the cheaper real estate (i.e., not on a busy street, but about a block off) was running about $1.50 a square foot and you can see how a miserly little 400 extra square feet could add up. I did not want my new studio to be a millstone around my neck. Rather, I chose to go a little smaller than my ideal studio size and allow myself the option to grow into a bigger space as students and income allowed.

We found a place (and only had to call the agent twice!) that might work. It was only 500 square feet, but cheaper than the average. It had good parking, was in a great location, easy to find, and no weird architecture to work around (no strange walls protruding, a nice even rectangle, etc.). Then the realtor said he had a space in the same complex that was not as desirable as you couldn’t see it from the street or parking lot, but was larger for the same price. We ended up with nearly 700 square feet! In actuality, I rather liked the idea of not being too visible from the street as I didn’t want a bunch of gawkers coming by to see the belly dancers.

With excitement and trepidation, I signed a two-year lease.

Now here are some of the dark clouds hiding my silver lining. Once the lease was signed, the realtor (who was also the building manager) became increasingly difficult to reach. It usually took three messages to get him to return a call. The space, a large rectangle, had been divided with two walls into three small offices. The realtor/manager assured me it would take his guys a few days to tear down the wall so we could begin installing our floor. A few days turned into a few weeks and the job they did was shoddy (I’m being polite—you know what word I’m intending). They pulled the suspended roof frame half down, punched huge holes in a paneled wall, and left the place looking like a bomb had gone off! We began painting around the mess so we could open on schedule. In the last ten months, I’ve often found it easier to do my own minor repairs than to track him down and get them fixed!

Preparing the space: My husband, amazingly supportive man that he is, researched dance floors on the internet and finally engineered a floor with Sulatex (that black pressed plywood material used in construction) covered with high density foam and a laminate wood flooring. The laminate was a larger expense than a finished plywood floor, but has the look of hardwood, is virtually indestructible, assembles quickly, and looks beautiful. I am so glad I did not cheap out on the floor! We did, however, save money on the subfloor, thanks to my engineering genius of a husband. The Sulatex was infinitely cheaper than building a plywood frame on which to lay the laminate and gave a fabulously springy subfloor. My father, brother-in-law and father-in-law helped my husband lay the flooring (nothing like free labor!). The troupe painted, cleaned, and decorated to make the space beautiful and welcoming. My father-in-law built beautiful benches to line two walls for student storage and movable seating. My husband designed a stainless steel sign which my brother-in-law then machined at his work for the parking lot (it looks so slick!).

Kat, darling that she is, donated an 8x10 foot mirror that she’d been storing in my garage, “just in case!” (I think she is psychic!) I then purchased two more 8X10 foot mirrors to line nearly one whole wall. I had only planned to buy one more mirror, but my husband talked me into being a little extravagant, a fact for which I am very grateful—having an entire wall of mirrors means that every inch of the studio is viable for student dance use. Had I only had 20 feet of mirrors, I would have lost room for about 10 more students.

I purchased from Best Buy the most powerful (hence, loudest) stereo they had to offer. I did this for two reasons. One, I wanted a really good sound system for the studio, and two, I needed something we could take to our monthly two-hour show at a local restaurant (no, they did not have a decent sound system). The system I chose had the receiver, two speakers, and an amplifier with two more speakers.

With a lot of slave labor, a tremendous amount of support, and a ton of love, we were ready to open!

The mental aspect: I must admit, in retrospect, that there were several weeks when I was not a very nice person. I took offense at things like my troupe members working with other teachers, not pitching in with the prep work, and a hundred other trivial things, the frustration of which I took out on some of my dear friends. I ended up having a huge email discussion with one of my troupe girlfriends where I finally realized that I was dreadfully afraid of failing, of wasting a big chunk of money, of “throwing a party and nobody coming.” (Thanks, Juli for being so understanding!)

I experienced the same feelings the first time I bought a car (I mean a real car, with financing—not the kind I bought in college with my summer earnings!). I was petrified at the thought of owing so much money for so long! What was I thinking? There was no way I could do this! Fortunately, those doubts quickly faded, especially once we had our open house/studio warming party which was packed and full of good wishes!

One other little incident has to be factored into the mental side of opening my studio. My husband and I had decided to have another baby and I got pregnant about a week after we opened. (I never did like to take it easy!) Some people may think me crazy (alright, most people), but in actuality, it was inspirational. Creating a studio is a bit like creating a new life form and it really put the fire under my tail to make sure the studio was sound, solvent, and full of students before I had to take time off for the baby. It also made me rely on my fellow troupe members who were aspiring teachers. I had to force myself to let them stand on their own two dancing feet and succeed on their own. (As with most troupe leaders, I’m a bit of a micromanager.)

We are now reaching the end of our ninth month as a business. It took a little money, a lot of work, and the conviction that we could live up to our ideals: That all women deserve a chance to find their beauty, that no one should ever feel bad or inferior when dancing, that all are welcome, and most important of all, that Joyous Laughter is what belly dance is all about!

Farfesha Belly Dance © 2004