Oh, darlings, can you believe it? February the 8th, 1997 - the day our lives changed, or at least the day my life took a hilariously disastrous turn for the better! It's all thanks to my fabulous, fashionable foray into the world of…wait for it…ballet!
Now, before you picture me, a statuesque vision of grace in a pristine white tutu, let me assure you, it was a sight far from that. Let's just say, it wasn't 'Swan Lake', it was more like 'The Goose that Laid the Golden Eggs…And then tripped on a shoelace' – truly a spectacle worthy of the London Palladium!
It all started with my friend, Penny, bless her fluffy soul. She's a seasoned ballerina, practically a Prima Ballerina Assoluta! One Tuesday evening over champagne and petits fours, she said, "Darling, you should try ballet! It's so liberating!" I laughed and said, "Penny, you know me. I can't even dance the conga without tripping over my own feet!"
But she was insistent. She said, "Darling, that's the fun of it! It's all about the journey! Besides, a little dance therapy never hurt anyone! Trust me, darling, you'll feel fabulous, especially in a gorgeous white tutu. Think swan! Think graceful! Think elegant!
So I gave in. Not to Penny's persistent persuasion, but the vision of myself twirling effortlessly in a dazzling, fluffy tutu was simply irresistible! I even imagined the look of adoration in my beau's eyes – well, that and the idea that this could be the secret to finally being able to execute a perfect spin, (one that didn't end in me feeling like a whirling dervish about to vomit)!
We walked into the studio, Penny and I, feeling rather like school girls – pink cheeks and all! The moment we crossed the threshold, the unmistakable scent of ballet shoes and stale sweat hit me like a wall, (the room's perfume was quite a departure from the heady aroma of Chanel I usually favour!) I felt like a fish out of water! The air thrummed with the sound of a piano playing a lilting classical tune - not your typical Tuesday night fare, darling.
Then came the real test of my inner fashionista – the leotards. Oh, the leotards! Honestly, darling, have you ever tried to wriggle your rather shapely derriere into one of those tight little creations? It's like trying to squeeze a goose into a sausage skin! I mean, I can confidently pull off a pencil skirt, but this? It was torture, I tell you, torture! I nearly fainted! The leotards, like a bad love affair, just wouldn't go where they should go! It felt like an attack on my girly grace and I swore to myself, this would be my first, and last time ever wearing one!
Then came the tutu. The vision! Oh darling, when Penny told me to hold my arms high in the air and spin, I felt a momentary sense of exhilaration - just as a fighter pilot must feel when he's in the sky, I thought. Yes, darling, that's exactly what it felt like: soaring through the air. For just that instant. But that feeling, that moment of grace, was short-lived! Because right after, my tutu promptly got tangled around my feet, resulting in a most spectacular (and entirely unplanned) headstand. I swear, it must have looked like a contortionist, not the graceful dancer I thought I'd be!
And there, darling, on that glorious, eventful day of February the 8th, 1997, the ballet life came crashing down on me. It was an epic disaster, I tell you! The sheer indignity of it all – the sweat, the leotard ( which somehow now smelled even worse), the tangle of pink tulle!
Of course, the rest of the class burst out laughing, even the instructor, poor man, couldn't stop his giggles. I wanted to sink through the floor! But Penny was there to rescue me, with that smile of hers – the same one she reserves for getting away with not paying the restaurant bill, darling! "It happens to the best of us!" she said, chuckling. And darling, let's just say I gave up the ballet dream and went home, vowing to never wear a tutu again! But of course, I did give the leotard a proper rinse!
All I have to show for this hilarious, albeit brief, foray into ballet, darling, is a rather amusing tale and a collection of embarrassing photos Penny took - some of which I have even threatened to have burned - and that's probably just as well, darling, don't you think?
But on a serious note, if you've never experienced ballet (and believe me, I understand completely!), I suggest you try it. You never know, you may just find a talent you never knew you had and an outfit you'll never ever wear again! But honestly, how could you possibly pass up a chance to look and feel fabulous, especially in a pink tutu?
A quick recap of what NOT to do in ballet class:- Don't let Penny talk you into wearing a tutu!
- Don't wear a white tutu - you'll look like an unfashionable penguin. A pink tutu, perhaps? That would be more suitable!
- Never mention a "conga". Ballet is much more graceful, don't you think?
- Try not to trip. Or if you do, don't get tangled in your tutu, because a headstand really won't cut it! (Trust me, darling!)
- Always have a good supply of Chanel on hand - just in case, darling.