Hello lovelies! Welcome back to Pink Tutu Time Travels! It's your girl Emma, and today, we're setting off on a brand new adventure, hopping back in time to… hold onto your tutus, darlings… 1735! Can you believe it?
Oh, the excitement! This month, I've been working extra hard, saving every penny from my performances (my audiences just adore the little twirl I do with my pink feather boa, darling) to finally afford that trip I've been dreaming of. Paris in 1735! The City of Lights… and dancing! It’s the home of the very first ballet school, you know? The Academy of Royal Dance. Ooh, the stories I could tell!
I have to tell you, my outfit was extra special for this trip. Imagine… a shocking pink tutu, its layers shimmering like spun sugar. Over it, a bejewelled, silk bodice with tiny, intricate embroidered butterflies, and for that little touch of whimsy, a bejeweled pink satin ribbon, cascading from my hair and wrapping around the base of my tutu. And let’s not forget Magic Meg, my pink, sparkly shire horse, looking as resplendent as ever in a pink silk braid. Even her golden hooves shimmered under the afternoon sun, sparkling with excitement.
As soon as we arrived, I could practically feel the magic in the air, or maybe it was just the delicious smell of pastries from a little bakery just off the cobblestones. Magic Meg pawed the ground, as eager to see what awaited us as I was. My trusty leather rucksack, brimming with pink ballet trinkets (did I tell you I found the most delightful feather trim in a dusty shop tucked away on a cobbled lane?!), was ready for more souvenirs.
We ventured to the Opéra Garnier, a magnificent building, and as I stood in front of it, I could imagine the sheer delight the Parisian audiences must have experienced witnessing those early ballet performances. Just picture it, dear reader: opulent settings, beautiful dancers in silk costumes, and music soaring through the halls. I had the feeling I could practically hear the elegant rustle of silken skirts and the gentle tap, tap, tap of dancers’ shoes against the stage floor…
Just inside the grand doors, I could already hear music echoing through the hallway. The air vibrated with the anticipation of a performance. With each step I took, the excitement rose until it bubbled over as I peered into the glistening lobby, teeming with men and women in elegant dresses and shimmering brocade jackets, each face filled with eager anticipation.
My dear friend Marie (we met on the ballet stage at a performance of Swan Lake – she’s a ballerina too, in London!) had warned me about this date. 1735 marked the première of a spectacular new ballet titled "Le Triomphe de l'Amour" – the triumph of love! Marie swore to me this production was an absolute showstopper, the kind of dance you’d never forget! And she was absolutely right!
The stage itself was pure theatre magic, a tapestry of dazzlingly vibrant colours, with the most beautifully crafted costumes and a backdrop that shifted and transformed before my eyes. I could practically smell the scent of woodsmoke and spices. It was a spectacle, an enchantment for all the senses!
While the performers weren’t wearing tutus in those days, my darling, they did have incredible footwork. It was mesmerising, like watching delicate flowers dancing in the wind, with their graceful movements weaving captivating stories that tugged at the heartstrings. It’s incredible how they could create so much emotion without words! The artistry of these early ballerinas truly inspired me.
What I found most charming was that the men weren’t simply standing there like they often are these days – no, they danced alongside the ladies with such grace and artistry! A lovely dance I can tell you! A reminder that we’re all on the stage of life together, isn’t it?
I spent the entire evening mesmerized, not just by the show but also by the exquisite, glittering ballet fashion. Imagine ladies, those perfectly tailored bodices with flowing, ethereal skirts – truly the ultimate expressions of elegance! And the sheer energy of the dance – they spun, they leapt, they twirled, all with such incredible control and lightness…
My heart was filled with pure joy as the last curtain fell. I took in the thunderous applause from the audience, the radiant smiles of the dancers… and felt a deep sense of inspiration washing over me. Oh, how I longed to spin across that stage in my pink tutu! The joy of sharing such magic with an audience... It is what makes me truly alive, wouldn’t you agree, darling?
That evening, as I dreamt of the grace and passion of the Parisian dancers, my head nestled against Magic Meg’s silken mane, a grand idea bloomed in my mind! Why couldn’t ballet performances reach more audiences? It felt unfair, an act of such wonder should be shared with the world!
I must say, the excitement of the trip filled me with such inspiration. I immediately scribbled it all down in my leather-bound diary, so you see, it’s never too late to dream and chase after your passions. Even if it’s only to dance in your pink tutu in front of your dressing table mirror. But remember my lovelies, never let anyone tell you you can’t follow your dreams… just think of this journey and remember - never give up on what brings you joy, whatever it may be!
Oh, before I forget… it’s no coincidence that I decided to visit on April 4th, my dears! The grand Royal Ballet School in London opened on this very date – a mere 24 years later in 1759! Imagine a school dedicated to ballet, how fabulous is that? What a gift for those passionate about this art form!
So until next time my lovely readers, keep dreaming, keep dancing, and don’t forget to spread a little pink magic! After all, it’s time we make every day a tutu-filled occasion! See you next month for another fabulous trip with your pink-loving time travelling blogger,
Emma, signing off.
www.pink-tutu.com
