Darling, it’s me again, your favourite, fabulous, and frankly fabulous ballet buff. Let me tell you about an incident that's simply too delicious not to share. Now, picture this, a crisp autumn day in Blighty, the 22nd of November, 2002, just the kind of day that makes you want to slip on a pair of sensible brogues and a little black dress - you know, the kind of dress that lets your personality shine through, with a hint of classic Parisian chic.
Well, darlings, I'm at the Royal Opera House, clutching my programme and a little box of chocs – one needs a bit of sustenance when taking in a show, you know - and I'm feeling right on top of the world. The stage is set, the music is lilting, and the air crackles with anticipation.
And then it happens. The lights dim, the first delicate notes of Tchaikovsky's 'Swan Lake' float through the air, and... *cue the dramatic pause*... a **tutu** malfunctions. It’s not the kind of malfunction we all hope to witness, mind you - the one where a dancer is forced to drop out for a 'costume adjustment' and emerges seconds later in a glittering sequined masterpiece that outshines even the glittering chandelier in the grand foyer.
No, my darlings, this was... well, shall we say... an epic fail of tutu proportions. Let me just say, we all knew it would be a memorable evening but even the most seasoned ballet aficionado like myself could not have anticipated such a spectacle.
Imagine this: The Swan Queen is supposed to glide across the stage with an elegant sweep of her feathered skirt, and instead, there she is, in the most exquisite, hand-stitched creation that even the finest Paris fashion houses would envy... well, imagine all that meticulously stitched tulle unraveling faster than you can say "delicate ballet dancer!"
As the poor, lovely Swan Queen gracefully moved - for what felt like an eternity but was probably seconds - the tutu started unraveling at a rate that made the plot of "Gone With The Wind" seem leisurely. The sight of that cascading confection, resembling an elegant bridal veil transforming into a tornado of white tulle was...
* * *
Here’s what happened, broken down for your entertainment: * The Big Unraveling: One minute the swan queen's costume was looking heavenly, the next... imagine a hairdresser letting loose with a giant ball of string after a particularly stressful client encounter! Just a continuous unraveling of sheer brilliance in a glorious white, swirling mass that quickly made her look like a runaway bride of the opera stage, with tulle cascading across her feet. * The Heroic Response: We all know a true ballerina, particularly one performing in the hallowed halls of the Royal Opera House, can pull off anything. Even a tutu tornado! The poor darling gave a brave attempt to dance while the world of tulle around her continued to cascade like a winter wonderland, or perhaps, a particularly elaborate meringue creation gone awry. She truly put on a brave face and performed with all the grace she could muster, though even the Queen herself could not hide a hint of comical terror in her eye, which, darlings, made this whole affair utterly delightful! * The Unfortunate Sound Effect: Let’s be honest, tulle unraveling doesn't create the same satisfying 'rip' sound that a crisp packet provides. There’s a *swoosh*, a gentle *flutter*... all so delightfully unexpected and wonderfully entertaining in its way. There was a hint of the comedic even in the heart of that solemn ballet, reminding me why theatre can sometimes be funnier than any scripted comedy. * The Unexpected Encore: As if this event couldn't get more surreal, imagine this - as the dancer attempted to finish her number while desperately clutching a progressively larger ball of unraveling tulle, the orchestra began playing the "Tutu Theme"! * Audience Behaviour: Of course, the whole thing went down a treat, and even though nobody dared laugh aloud, that stifled snicker in the air just added to the atmosphere. I daresay there were more gasps in the theatre than during a "Hamlet" monologue. It’s just that kind of show – “Tutu Tales”, they should call it.The rest of the ballet? Let’s just say that even without the ‘tutu catastrophe,’ I'd recommend it as a truly dazzling affair. But nothing quite captured the crowd like the unexpected ‘tutu drama’!
Honestly, if I wasn't already addicted to the art of ballet, this would have been enough to make me a convert!