Darling, imagine it, a day like any other, the sun shining, the birds singing, and then - a whisper, a ripple, a rumour on the breeze... "Tutues are OUT! Pants are IN!". The world of ballet, a world of tradition, of elegance, of swans and sleeping beauties, suddenly felt like a high school hallway - *whispers* *shrieks* *scandals*!
On June 1st, 1997, the hallowed halls of the Royal Ballet vibrated with excitement, and just a dash of trepidation. Ballet legend, the darling of the dance world, Dame Margot Fonteyn had been, in her wisdom, bold, utterly *dare I say*, *modern*, and had embraced the *revolutionary*. A revolutionary *leotard* - and - wait for it - *culottes*. Imagine it, dear reader, imagine the gasp, the *gasp*, when she announced: * "It is time, darling. The tutu, that beautiful birdcage... It's holding us back. Our legs. Our steps. The world is changing, darling, and we must dance to a new rhythm". *
Well, darlings, Dame Fonteyn, as ever, was right! And the ballet world followed like sheep to the slaughter... or rather, *ballet dancers to the *choreographer*. The change was a whirlwind, a *tutu tornado* in the world of classical ballet, sweeping in a *pant-leg* revolution.
But of course, the transition wasn't seamless, as, *naturally* - where there's change, there's drama, darling. The traditionalists were *outraged* and *howled* like they had seen their *perfect tutu* be torn to shreds (or perhaps... shredded tights? That, darling, is a fashion nightmare all of its own! We *never* speak of tights being *shredded*, or that, even worse, the *tights* are too *tight*, let's be chic). But darling, the world *moves on* like the delicate *pointe shoes* on our dancers' feet.
What came next? A veritable flood of *leggings*, *culottes* and even, gasp! *jogging bottoms*, (let's keep that word hushed, though). The ballet dancers had *taken back control*. They'd become... dare I say, *feminists*, *trend-setters* and all round *stars*. This wasn't a revolution to bring *drab* and *uncomfortable* fashion to ballet, darling. This was a *liberation*! It was about *dancing* in *comfort* with a dash of *style*.
There was of course the **Big Four** that caused this storm:
- Dame Margot Fonteyn, *ever* the *trend-setter*, who had the gall, the guts and *most importantly*, the *grace*, to move from *tutues to culottes* and never looked back! *That* is the epitome of style!
- Mikhail Baryshnikov who *quietly*, with *enigma* and that *Russian* *smoulder* he is known for, embraced the pants as an opportunity. To *expand*. To *flow* across the stage. Not only *for him* but to *allow his partner* to be a *modern* *force*. *Darling* *a vision*!
- Rudolf Nureyev who *adored* a good *debate* and a little *revolution*. But never let it be said *that he* would let this *be* *a moment*, or even, a *movement*. This was, darling, a *lifestyle*. An *approach*. Ballet was *adaptable*. Ballet could *be* *all things*, *comfortable* or *provocative*. It *was* *time*, as he would say, *for all things to flow!*
- Dame Arlene Phillips whose mind, *like* *the* *flamboyance* *of* *her* *creations*, could *weave* *magic*. The world, the **pant-leg* *world*, *that is* , was her *oyster*, her *canvas*. There was *nothing* she wouldn't try! *What a *diva*, *darling!*
So the story unfolds - Tutues haven't *vanished*, darling, not *quite*. They are *a part* of *the* *ballet* *lexicon*, *ever-present*, *classic* and a *must-have* for *the * right *occasion*. But darling, let's not forget. *Change* is in the *air*, a beautiful *new* *flow*. *Dancing*, *modern*, *bold*. It's a *revolution*, *a new * era*, a *celebration*... A new, *fabulous*, *chic* *era*.