Hello, darlings! Emma here, back from another fabulous journey through time, this time landing on 6th June, 1972! Can you believe it, dears? This time, my darling Magic Meg (a pink-sparkling Shire horse with golden hooves, a white mane and tail - absolutely breathtaking) took me on a grand gallop into a ballet world ripe with revolution. I was, of course, in my absolute best pink tutu - a brand-new number from Madame Gigi's on Savile Row - and felt as though I was walking on air!
I must say, my lovelies, that 1972 was a time for shaking things up! The dance world was in the midst of an exciting transition. Tradition still held sway, of course, with companies like the Royal Ballet in full glory. But there was a whisper in the air, a growing movement toward new ideas, towards challenging the status quo. It felt electric, like a dance floor just before the music kicks in!
But before we delve into this thrilling dance revolution, let's talk fashion! Ah, my darlings, the seventies. Honestly, it was a time of fabulous extremes. Think flared trousers, platform shoes, and β gasp! - that hairstyle β long, straight hair cascading down to the shoulders! I was tempted to join the movement with a fabulous afro wig, but my pink tutu just wouldn't quite go with it. Oh, the dilemma!
Thankfully, Magic Meg brought me straight to the source: Covent Garden, London! I popped on my best pink tutu and entered the iconic Royal Opera House. It felt almost like stepping back in time, all grand architecture and red velvet, but there was a new spark in the air. This year saw the launch of the groundbreaking "London Contemporary Dance Theatre" (or LCDT, as it's now known). This new company embraced a modern approach to dance, a rebellion against the classical ballet structure. Now, dears, don't get me wrong, I adore a traditional ballet, but there was something exhilarating about seeing dancers exploring new ways of moving, challenging the rigid structures, breaking free from tradition.
While Covent Garden buzzed with change, my little heart skipped a beat upon hearing of an absolutely phenomenal performance of "Giselle" at the Royal Opera House on that very evening! It was, naturally, sold out, but Magic Meg's magic hooves managed to snag me a coveted ticket. (You should have seen her gallop, a whirlwind of pink sparkles and white mane!)
Now, "Giselle" is a classic ballet - all flowing tutus, intricate footwork, and an emotional journey through love and heartbreak. And yet, I felt something different here. I could sense the ballet's emotional core shining even brighter, each gesture carrying extra weight, every pliΓ© echoing the deepest longing. It was a beautiful blend of tradition and an exhilarating contemporary flair - something quite special!
Afterwards, I hopped on Magic Meg and we galloped back to my time, our leather rucksack brimming with notes and a little pink ballet shoe that had been carefully tucked in - a memento from the 1972 era! I hope to share this extraordinary piece of ballet history with all of you. You can read more about "Giselle" on my website www.pink-tutu.com. I am planning to create an entire post about the story and a complete run-through of this fabulous ballet and its enduring popularity.
But hold onto your tutus, darlings! This is just the beginning. There are so many fascinating stories to uncover about 1972! I'm planning on diving deep into the fascinating stories of these pioneers, like Martha Graham, the Queen of Modern Dance. There were also captivating performances at the prestigious New York City Ballet - all a vibrant part of the dynamic shift in the dance world! And I have a few other surprise reveals too! Just imagine, you could even find a vintage ballet magazine with the gorgeous Margot Fonteyn, the queen of grace, in her very own pink tutu! Now, how stunning would that be, my lovelies?
So join me on my pink time-traveling adventure next month as I continue to uncover the fascinating history of ballet. Until then, may your tutus be fluffy, your pirouettes perfect, and may you always dance with joy!
XOXO,
Emma