I haven't gone to ballet class for some time now, but recently I pulled out my point shoes again.
I only took point class for one summer four years ago, but I never missed a single one.
Some days I was the only one to show up. Point class was before regular class. It's a strange way to start your Saturday. When you're tentative you can feel like you're about to twist an ankle, especially first thing in the morning on a slippery floor. But it's where all of your technique comes together and makes sense. At least, it was for me.
Stepping confidently into a turn, envisioning it in your nerve endings before you move, it's not scary but the most powerful feeling. When you find your balance, rock solid, in second position, you feel like you are rooted through the floor and you could stay there for ever, on a few square inches of surface, on the tips of your toes, lifting up with every fiber of your body at the same time as you shoot energetic needles down into the earth.
Those shoes are tough mistresses. A little fetishistic. I pull them out when I need to gather my focus.