_The Quest for a New Studio
By Michelle
Looking back, the idea of opening my own studio has been a kernel in the recesses of my
mind like the plan for making that fabulous new costume. Alright, the costumes were
made as quickly as the seed was planted. The studio’s seed simply took longer to
germinate.
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!
Michelle Morrison is the founder of renowned troupe Farfesha Belly Dance, owner of
Farfesha Studios, producer of her own instructional videos, and popular workshop
instructor. Please feel free to stop by her classes when you’re in Albuquerque, or visit her
website anytime at www.farfesha.com.
By Michelle
Looking back, the idea of opening my own studio has been a kernel in the recesses of my
mind like the plan for making that fabulous new costume. Alright, the costumes were
made as quickly as the seed was planted. The studio’s seed simply took longer to
germinate.
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!
Michelle Morrison is the founder of renowned troupe Farfesha Belly Dance, owner of
Farfesha Studios, producer of her own instructional videos, and popular workshop
instructor. Please feel free to stop by her classes when you’re in Albuquerque, or visit her
website anytime at www.farfesha.com.
