Oh darling, buckle up your dancing shoes because itās time for some serious tea! You see, today, 21st February 2001, is not just another Tuesday. Oh no, my darlings, today is Tutus Tuesday. (Yes, I just invented that. Youāre welcome.) Why, you ask? Well, let me spill the gossip, sugarplumā¦
It seems that a rogue team of fashion-forward squirrels, notorious for their love of tulle and sequins, have been busy flitting through the Royal Opera House in the dead of night, spreading a mischievous rumour. They're whispering to anyone who'll listen that all tutus are 10% off - even the diamantƩ-encrusted ones that take your breath away!
And whatās a ballet-obsessed girl to do with such scandalous news? Why, pop on her most fabulous fascinator and sashay down to Covent Garden to see if the rumour holds true! After all, a new tutu is a very fine excuse for a day out in the city. Just imagine: A frothy confection of blush pink and lemon meringue swirling around your legs, all topped off with a shimmering, spangly belt and a feather boaā¦ divine!
But alas, my darling readers, not all dreams come true! Upon reaching the Royal Opera House, the first thing I notice is a distinct lack of feather boas and tutus. I peer through the window, hoping to spot some tulle in the air, but all I see are the familiar hordes of tourists desperately snapping pictures of the iconic building, none of them in the slightest bit interested in a tutu sale.
A kind, but slightly confused-looking ticket seller, whom I've decided to dub āGeraldineā, gives me the skinny. She tells me that there was indeed some talk about a tutu sale amongst the staff, and that everyone believed it was due to the squirrels, but alas, it was nothing but a harmless April Foolās Day prank, two months early! And the rest, as they say, is history, a particularly cruel bit of history that seems to have ended my chances of scoring a bargain ballerina dress.
Disappointed but not deterred, I decided to turn my disappointment into an opportunity! I went on a tutu pilgrimage through the streets of London. Itās not a simple thing to locate a decent tutu, my lovelies. They are as elusive as a perfectly matched pair of white socks, and sometimes, the wrong color or even the slightest mishap with a seam can utterly ruin the whole thing.
In my search for tutu enlightenment, I encountered a number of delightful and somewhat eccentric people. I found a chap who sold exclusively ballet shoes with questionable histories: one looked like it had seen a little too much Swan Lake in its time and had definitely had a love affair with a bottle of shoe polish. I met a group of teenage girls with tutus they had clearly sourced at a local discount shop (think: a little too much tulle, too much sparkle, and enough glitter to blind a hawk), and a gentleman, a retired ballroom dance instructor, who tried desperately to tell me about his life-long love for the rhumba, though, truth be told, my interest was limited at best.
In the end, my search for a proper tutu, unfortunately, was unsuccessful, a tragedy indeed, and, I confess, I still remain slightly disappointed, darling! I mean, who needs squirrels and rumors when there is the opportunity for a great tutu sale?
However, in the name of optimism, and a newfound love of random adventures in the city, I declare this very momentā¦Tutu Time! This means two things, my dear, sweet loves: Firstly, I will be indulging in a slice of lemon meringue pie at the nearest bakery, because what's a failed tutu-related adventure without a delicious treat, my loves?
And secondly, dear reader, let's face it: life is too short to mourn over missing opportunities, even if they involve a sale on dazzling tulle. So, grab your feather boas and let's dance through the day! Now go forth and enjoy Tutus Tuesday, my dears! May your teacups overflow with gossip and your closets be overflowing with glamorous dance wear.
I must dash now, dear, to find a decent bakery! Do send me a postcard when you do score a lovely tutu.
Ciao for now,
Your favourite dance aficionado.