Darling readers, it’s me, your favourite tutu-obsessed chronicler of all things ballet, back with a piping hot piece of news that’ll have you pirouetting with glee! Buckle your pointe shoes, my darlings, because today is a day for celebration, a day for rejoicing, a day for… well, you know what, I’m just going to cut to the chase!
On this glorious 31st of August, 2001 (let’s all take a moment to fondly remember the good ol’ days before… well, you know!), the glorious, fabulous, utterly fabulous, world of ballet took a rather dramatic and hilarious turn for the whimsical. This is how it went down…
Imagine, if you will, the hushed reverence of the Royal Albert Hall. It's filled with esteemed patrons in their finest finery, their elegant faces glued to the stage, where our beloved Royal Ballet is about to launch into an intensely emotional rendition of "Giselle".
The curtain rises, and oh, the drama! A heartbroken young Giselle, with her ethereal, perfectly crafted tutu, throws herself onto the stage in despair, tears streaming down her perfectly-made-up face, you know the drill. She's dancing the absolute socks off of everyone, conveying an emotional depth that would make Shakespeare jealous. But then, something unexpected happens.
The choreography calls for a quick, daring leap, the kind that would make even the most experienced ballerina blush. However, disaster strikes! Giselle's tulle, dear reader, **TULLLE**, gives way! This isn’t a graceful tear, darling, oh no. It’s a good, solid rip, straight down the middle.
There, in all its glory, before the astonished gaze of the entire Royal Albert Hall, hangs the offending bit of netting, like a very inconvenient, very fluffy Christmas decoration. And oh, my dear reader, was it ever dramatic.
Now, I know you’re picturing a complete and utter stage disaster, the kind that would leave Giselle utterly distraught and send shockwaves of horror through the audience. But alas, our girl, bless her perfectly pointed heart, wasn’t having any of it! Instead, she gave us a glimpse into the magic that exists when art and sheer wit collide.
The ballerina, her face a picture of determined, dignified composure, simply throws back her head, bursts out into a joyous giggle that sends a ripple of laughter through the auditorium, and carries on dancing! I mean, it wasn’t perfect, sure. But honestly, have you ever seen anything so brilliant, so ridiculously fabulous, and, let’s be honest, utterly hilarious?
The audience? Completely smitten. Laughter filled the air. There were cheers, applause, and a good old-fashioned standing ovation that lasted what felt like forever. Everyone, from the queen herself to the last person standing in the balcony, was utterly enchanted by the whole glorious spectacle.
It wasn’t just the hilarity of the situation, though, no, there was something else. There was an unbridled sense of freedom and joy that permeated the air, an acceptance of the imperfection and a recognition that even in the world of classical ballet, a bit of laughter can make all the difference.
It wasn’t the ballet we were expecting, but it was the ballet we needed. It was a gentle reminder that a tutu, like life, is a flimsy thing, capable of giving way at any moment, and a beautiful reminder that we all just have to carry on dancing anyway!
Here’s to Giselle, and all the ballet dancers, the singers, the musicians, the artists of all stripes, who remind us that life’s too short to take ourselves too seriously. Let’s laugh together, let’s carry on dancing, and let’s never be afraid to tear a few holes in the very fabric of expectation every once in a while!
P.S. Don't even get me started on the amazing array of tutus worn by the corps de ballet that evening! I could write a dissertation just on the fabulous range of shades and styles we saw. Seriously, some of them were like works of art! The pink one! The yellow one! The ones with the little flowers! Oh, the sheer magnificence!
Anyway, I’ll stop there. For now. I need to go find my stash of pink tulle – just in case, you know.