Dancing With The Stars Season 35

You know that feeling when you try to do a simple spin in your kitchen and almost take out a cabinet? That’s basically the entire premise of Dancing With The Stars Season 35, but with sequins and a live orchestra. It’s the show where celebrities rediscover that their legs and arms can, in fact, move in opposite directions—if only for ninety seconds. Honestly, watching it is like seeing your accountant attempt a TikTok dance; it’s equal parts cringe and delightful.

The season kicked off with a giddy chaos that felt like your first day back at the gym after a year of Netflix. Everyone was a little puffed, a little hopeful, and definitely wearing too much bronzer. The judges—aka the three-headed dragon of critique—handed out scores like a stern but loving aunt at a talent show. Carrie Ann Inaba even waved her “Len’s Lens” paddle, which made everyone collectively miss the late, great Len Goodman as if he’d just stepped out for tea.

Why We Watch: The Relatable Messiness

Let’s be real: we don’t watch for the perfect rumbas. We watch for the absolute train wrecks that remind us of our own wedding dance disasters. This season delivered a slow-motion foxtrot that looked like two people trying to navigate a crowded IKEA on a Saturday. One contestant, a retired NFL star, moved his hips with all the confidence of a toddler wearing grown-up shoes—glorious, but terrifying.

On the flip side, you had the ringer—a pop star who clearly took ballet at age three. She glided across the floor like a swan on roller skates, and everyone in the audience felt both inspired and deeply inadequate. It’s the same feeling you get when your friend posts a “no-filter” selfie that’s clearly better lit than your entire life. But hey, it’s live TV, so we forgive the perfection.

The real star, however, was the professional dancers. They deserve hazard pay. Imagine trying to teach a country singer a tango while they keep asking, “Wait, is this the electric slide?” These pros smile through the chaos, and their patience is the only thing keeping the show from turning into a full-on reality show meltdown.

The Costumes & The Semi-Tragic Hair

The wardrobe department clearly raided a fairy-tale costume shop after a glitter explosion. One contestant wore a dress so heavy with rhinestones that she looked like a chandelier on stilts. Another guy had a Latin suit that was so tight, you could see his soul trying to escape through the zipper. And the hair? Half the cast had more product in their hair than a 1980s hair band’s tour bus. It was magnificent.

The judges, meanwhile, had their own wardrobe quirks. Derek Hough looked like he’d just stepped out of a high-end catalog for “urban wizard chic.” Bruno Tonioli, on the other hand, made sounds that were less commentary and more cartoon sound effects. When he jumps out of his seat, you half-expect a “boing” noise and a puff of smoke. It’s the comfort-food entertainment we all crave after a long week of adulting.

The Emotional Bait (And We Take It)

Every season has the “dedication dance”—the one where a star whispers about their grandma or their dog. Season 35 was no exception. A reality TV star dedicated her rumba to her high school self, and the entire audience pretended not to cry while sobbing into their $8 cocktails. It’s the same emotional manipulation as a puppy adoption ad, and we fall for it every single time.

There was also the obligatory “struggle week,” where one contestant forgot the choreography and just did the sprinkler for eight counts. The crowd gasped, then laughed, then applauded wildly. Because honestly, at home, we all do the sprinkler. It’s the universal dance of panic. And the judges? They gave a 6, but it felt like a 10 in the currency of pure entertainment.

The Finale: Sparkles & Sniffles

The finale was a three-hour circus of confetti, slow-motion montages, and a performance by an artist you vaguely remember from 2012. The couple that won—a TikToker and her stoic pro—made it look easy, but you know they practiced until their feet bled. The runner-up did a freestyle that involved a prop umbrella and some questionable lifts, but we cheered anyway because we’re all in this together.

In the end, Season 35 of Dancing With The Stars was like a good casserole: messy, warm, and full of ingredients you didn’t expect to like. It reminded us that dancing is just walking with a plan, and that plan usually falls apart. So next time you attempt the salsa in your living room, remember: the pros are just better at hiding the chaos. And that’s the real magic. Cha-cha-cha out.