Last night, I found myself comfortably seated in a luxurious velvet Broadway seat, where I had the unique opportunity to witness not just a performance, but a reflection of my own life. The vibrant production brought to life the essence of myself, my cherished mother, and every remarkable woman I’ve ever loved, all beautifully expressed through song, dynamic movement, and the authenticity of stretch marks that tell their own stories. Each note resonated, evoking a deep sense of connection and nostalgia.

hey guys & dolls — ally here!

So here’s the deal: I walked into Dead Outlaw expecting something quirky and delightfully offbeat — I mean, it’s a musical centered around a dead cowboy, how serious could it possibly be? Yet, to my surprise and bemusement, by the end of the show, I found myself feeling unexpectedly low-key emotional and completely obsessed with the entire experience.

Okay, so let me start by saying: Floyd Collins was not at all what I expected. And honestly? I think that’s the point.

I saw it on a cold spring night — the kind of night where New York City feels exceptionally cinematic and moody — and I went in knowing very little besides the fact that “Jeremy Jordan is in it” (which, let’s be real, was undoubtedly more than enough to entice me to make the trip). But what I experienced was something far more haunting, intimate, and emotionally layered than I could have ever imagined.

I had the amazing opportunity to experience the incredible Buena Vista Social Club: The Musical, and I'm still reeling from the vibrant energy, deep passion, and rich soul of this truly unforgettable production. This spectacular musical celebration of Cuban music and culture had me dancing enthusiastically in my seat, singing along joyfully, and grinning from ear to ear with sheer delight.