Darling readers, it’s Christmas Eve 1999, the dawn of the new millennium! The year that promises flying cars and hoverboards (though honestly, can’t we just have shoes that tie themselves? It's 1999, we're practically in the future!), and while you're all prepping your Christmas dinners and wondering whether the Y2K bug is going to wipe out all your electronic data, I’ve been contemplating the real mysteries of life. Namely, tutus. ?
I mean, they’re a beautiful thing, aren't they? These swirling puffs of tulle, a symphony of feathers and silk, an ode to the ethereal, delicate feminine… but frankly, sometimes I find myself staring at them in wonder, a single, crucial question buzzing in my mind. What do we *actually* do with these things?
Let's be real, a tutu doesn't exactly lend itself to, say, grocery shopping. Unless you want everyone to think you’re auditioning for the Sugar Plum Fairy, in which case, fair play to you! But seriously, you can't waltz around Waitrose in a tutu (though if I'm being honest, a feather boa and a pair of ruby slippers would be quite the eye-catching ensemble…).
You might think this is a frivolous concern, and it may well be! But consider, darling, the challenges these magnificent frocks pose! They're so floaty, so whimsical, so... *dance-y*. How, precisely, do you put on a tutu, even for a leisurely afternoon tea with your fellow dancers? (Please, for the love of Swan Lake, tell me it's not an Olympic feat! The mental image of a whole troop of ballerinas contorting themselves in their tutus is too much to handle!).
And the real question, the one that haunts my waking hours: **Where do we put the frilly bits of fluff?** Are we to tuck them neatly into our tights (what kind of nightmare is that?!), stuff them into our tights? (A disaster waiting to happen!) Or maybe the universe of dance simply pretends these little poofs of fabric don't exist, their presence a magical secret hidden between the floor and the dancer's perfectly coiffed hair?
Speaking of, are we allowed to wear, say, a hair clip when we're sporting the tutus? Or does it have to be the traditional bun, slicked to the point it appears to be made of concrete? Does the bun actually count as the sixth point of a pentagon or am I overthinking things again? So many mysteries…
But I digress! (Because tutus can do that to a girl). ?
All this is to say, my fellow dance-enthusiasts, let's cherish these tutu-filled times, and acknowledge the challenges and joys they bring. From the exquisite pirouettes to the sometimes perplexing choreography of navigating the everyday, I think it's safe to say tutus are a reminder that the ballet world is never dull.
After all, wouldn't life be so boring if we were just wearing practical trousers? ?
I'll be taking your questions on tutus next week in a special holiday edition of my column "All the World's a Stage". So, send in your burning queries (is there a particular tutu brand we should all be clamouring for? Does a tutu’s size actually matter?)! And as always, keep twirling and wishing for a magical Christmas season. ✨?