Hello my lovelies,
It’s time for another adventure! Welcome back to Pink Tutu Travels, your monthly dose of ballet history and whimsy. I’m your ever-so-slightly pink-obsessed guide, Emma, and I’m absolutely thrilled to be whisking you away to the past once more, this time to the 8th of August, 1749!
Now, let’s gather our pink tutus and head out to the stable. Magic Meg, my magnificent pink-sparkling Shire horse with golden hooves, is already pawing the ground excitedly. You know what that means? It’s time to journey through time!
As I strap on my trusty leather rucksack, I can't help but think about how it's crammed with all sorts of treasures. This time, it's a bit of a history treasure trove. It holds ballet shoes from 18th century France, sketches from a lost production of Giselle, and a program from the very first performance of Swan Lake – imagine, a real piece of history on my very own back!
Today's time travel escapade is taking us to London. You'll just have to trust me on this – you'll see why I'm taking us to this place. London was a real hub for ballet back then, bustling with life and with the latest and greatest productions. It’s a place where passion for ballet burned bright, even with all the fancy dances going on in Paris at the time.
This period was when ballet really started finding its feet outside of France. 1749 wasn't a year full of premieres or anything spectacular, but there were lots of productions, each adding their own brushstroke to the world of ballet as we know it today.
Imagine the wonder and excitement in the air, a real sense of discovery. Back then, even simple routines were met with gasps and delight. That, my darlings, is the essence of true wonder – witnessing a piece of art at its beginning.
Now, don your own most exquisite pink tutu, hop on the back of your favourite stallion, and we’ll dash back through the time tunnel.
…
London, August 8th, 1749.
I can feel the magic in the air as I stroll down the cobblestone streets of London. The air smells of horse dung and roasting meats. What a delightful mix. I feel like I’ve walked straight onto the set of a period drama! But here’s the catch, I’m the lead character in this little slice of history, and it's a fantastic feeling!
We've landed in a time of grand opera houses and theatrical spectacles, with a vibrant ballet scene beginning to blossom, even with France stealing the spotlight at that time.
Our first stop? A delightful little coffee shop tucked away on a quiet side street, for a cup of steaming, fragrant coffee, of course. We must rest our time-travelling bones and chat with the locals. The cafe's full of artists and patrons alike. As a ballet enthusiast, I must say the gossip swirling around these hallowed halls is simply intoxicating.
I’m picking up rumours about new works coming out of Paris, the city still considered the heart of ballet at that time. Everyone is eager to learn and experiment, but some believe true creativity has to come from French soil. Well, I can already tell you that we'll prove those people wrong! This beautiful ballet world of ours stretches beyond borders and time, darling.
I pick out an older gentleman with kind eyes, carefully writing in a little notebook. He reminds me of a ballet master, meticulously writing down dance steps, like a treasured secret recipe for a delicious performance. After all, ballet is the original "art form that keeps on giving"!
"Excuse me, kind sir," I ask him, using a sweet, lilting voice like a true Lady of the era. "I couldn’t help but notice your passionate scribbling. Could you tell me, what excites you about ballet today?"
His face lights up, as if a bright pink tutu suddenly emerged in the middle of the crowded cafe. He talks of the wonder of expressing stories and emotions through dance, the sheer beauty and grace of human bodies moving to music. It’s like a breath of fresh air, my dears, like a grand plie right before a fabulous performance.
This moment, these conversations, bring it home. You see, ballet wasn't just a fleeting fancy for those fortunate enough to attend performances. It was a driving passion, a vibrant language everyone was eager to speak, no matter their background. And oh, my dear, wasn't that amazing?
After my coffee, I make my way towards Covent Garden, home to a theatre already famous for its theatrical productions, including its first ever ballet. It wasn't dedicated entirely to ballet just yet, but it was quickly gaining traction as a hub for the growing movement in England. Imagine the energy!
I stroll through the gardens, savouring the scent of fragrant roses, their velvety petals the perfect shade of pink, like my own tutu. What a glorious vision of beauty! The bustling scene makes my head spin; there's street performers, merchants selling wares, and an air of anticipation that makes me excited for the next grand spectacle.
We arrive at the theatre as dusk begins to fall. What I see before me, is an image that sticks in my memory - rows and rows of people are gathering at the entrance. It's not yet opening night, but excitement has filled the air.
Now, in the spirit of ballet history, we have to be at least a little bit scandalous, right? I just can't resist indulging in a little bit of dramatic flair!
With a mischievous glint in my eye, I slip a feather boa around my neck, its delicate white feathers trailing like a dancer’s flowing skirts. Just then, I'm swept into a whirlpool of laughter, conversation and energy as we finally get to witness some of this beautiful 18th century life firsthand.
It's truly the best glimpse into ballet’s glorious history, my dears, full of whispers about famous dancers, the thrill of discovering something new, the raw beauty of live performance, and the passionate heartbeat of a scene just beginning to bloom.
I have to confess, my lovelies, after witnessing all this passion, all this magic, it truly reinforces the amazing legacy of ballet, making me all the more determined to spread its beauty far and wide.
And just to sweeten the deal, I even snagged a fantastic program from a vendor outside the theatre – its worn and tattered but oozes charm, promising to hold countless tales from that night in history. This will be a prized possession, placed lovingly amongst the many treasures within my beloved rucksack!
Oh, I can't wait to share another time-traveling ballet story with you next month, darlings. Until then, let's remember to dance our way through life, embracing each and every twirl, hop, and leap with joy, grace, and that touch of whimsical pink that only we understand.
Lots of love and pirouettes,
Emma
