Darling, gather 'round and let’s have a little gossip about the ballet world, shall we? Now, we all know that ballet is the ultimate art form, a symphony of grace, elegance, and – let's face it – perfectly sculpted legs in a **tutu**. But even our favourite ballerinas, the epitome of refined taste, can have their sartorial mishaps, can’t they?
Now, you may be asking yourself, "Why on earth are you telling us about **tutus** today, darling? Has the world finally run out of things to talk about?" To which I'd say, *ooh, honey, never*. Today is the 21st of January, 1997, and I can tell you, the ballet world has been practically thrown into chaos.
Imagine, if you will, a crisp January morning. The frost is shimmering on the rooftops, a delightful cup of tea is brewing, and the world seems positively pristine. All is right, as it should be. Except...at the Royal Opera House, that's where the story takes a delightful turn. Imagine, if you will, a swarm of **tutus** – not the classic, fluffy, romantic variety, oh no! – we are talking about bright, vibrant, acid-green **tutus**, covered in sparkly sequins, reminiscent of the kind your naughty auntie might wear to a bingo night. And all over a very bewildered company of dancers. They’re literally in the throes of their morning rehearsal and BAM, this chaotic flurry of sequins explodes into their midst!
You see, darling, the resident tutu designer, darling Freddy Featherbottom (oh, yes, he does sound deliciously theatrical, doesn’t he?), well, he's known for being… shall we say "eccentric", but brilliant. But darling Freddy, in a moment of *creative inspiration*, got a bit *carried away*. He’s gone and sewn together a completely new **tutu** range for the next production of ‘Swan Lake’, based on the premise that “swans are essentially *glamorous*”, whatever that means. You’d expect, in his defense, he'd get the principal ballerina on board, but no, it’s *completely* last minute! He has a whole chorus of lovely ballet girls ready to twirl and leap in a blinding rainbow of sparkly lime green **tutus**. Imagine the *scenes* darling! The sheer horror on the faces of those *dear*, *devoted* souls! The company manager practically fainted dead away!
Imagine poor Darcey Bussell. It’s going to take weeks of Pilates to regain the confidence needed to face the *entire* audience in *that* colour. But now, imagine it from the poor prima ballerina's point of view: "Here I am, poised to unleash the very essence of love and tragedy in my portrayal of Odette and Odile... and I'm expected to do so in an *electric green* **tutu**?!”
Naturally, darling, we’re in the business of gossip here, and this little incident, *oooh darling,* this one was juicy. Now, you know I am *always* a lover of all things fashionable. But the real drama comes from the backlash, darling, from all of those ballet purists. They're all crying, "This is an affront to tradition! Ballet should be all about refined taste and classic elegance!" Now, darling, are they being a tad too precious?
Naturally, Freddy, the cheeky little scamp, defended his work: “The swan is the queen of the water, the most glamourous of birds... don’t tell me those birds wouldn’t want to show off a bit, honey! A bit of *pizzazz*!”. I mean, he has a point, doesn't he? Isn’t ballet *all* about the drama? We want our audiences to go, "Ooh, darling! Did you see that?"! So, is *a touch* of green on stage actually *that* outrageous?
So, while those elegant swans may be getting ready for an *unusual* performance, darling, the rest of us can *totally* laugh at it, isn't it divine? A little bit of anarchy is what keeps ballet fresh and exciting! Maybe next we'll see them waltzing around in polka-dot **tutus** – I, for one, am dying to know what Freddy will come up with next! And I must get my own green **tutu**. It’s a *must* to be seen in the stalls at Covent Garden.
Oh, darling, as for me, I must run off! The shops are calling, a new green **tutu** beckons!