The Great Tutu Debacle: A Ballet Battle of the Bulges
Darling, it’s a truth universally acknowledged that a ballet dancer in possession of a good tutu must be in want of a spotlight. And, my dears, what better spotlight than the one on the 24th of September, 2005, for the Royal Ballet’s new season launch? Now, before you think this is simply another dance recital – don't you dare! This wasn’t just your typical arabesque and pirouette affair, darling. This was the dawn of a new era in tutu-wear, a tempest in a tutu, a revolution in plié – the “Great Tutu Debacle”.
You see, my loves, the Royal Ballet had been making a lot of fuss about this new season – "fresh," "exciting," "revolutionary," were the words bouncing around backstage like those tiny balls they use in the interval to entertain the children. And then, the big reveal, or so they thought! The company emerged on stage, graceful and swan-like in… pink tutus! A gasp went through the audience, and, well, it was pretty much the same sound my Gran makes when she remembers how much those new designer trousers cost. Apparently, someone forgot to mention the pink – a slight, perhaps rather shocking, deviation from their signature white. The rumour mill in the grand foyer is swirling with tales of a forgotten memo and a mismatched order. Was it a fashion faux pas? A desperate bid for attention? Was it really a déjà vu situation, as whispers of a similar incident involving a production of Swan Lake in 1982 spread like wildfire?
But hold your horses! There’s a twist in this elegant tale! The "pink predicament" wasn't met with disdain. It wasn't met with jeering, "They've gone mad," and "Get them a pair of scissors." Oh no darling! There was actually an electric energy, a delightful gasp, a kind of thrilled bewilderment. Was it a revolution in the tutu world? The start of a whole new ballet movement, perhaps even a new dance form - 'Pinkut’?
Now, the ballerinas, bless their silk-clad souls, handled it like absolute champs, although, you know, I bet the backstage drama was more intense than a final curtain call. But with smiles on their faces and not a bead of sweat out of place (or maybe it was just the strategically-placed shimmery pink sweat patches that now are an accepted part of any reputable ballerina's attire… you go girl! ), they twirled and leaped with an unprecedented pizzazz and sassiness that you simply can't achieve in plain white. It’s the secret magic of pink, my dears. It makes a woman feel daring. It screams “Notice me!”. It says "Look at my fabulous thighs!”
So what can we learn from the "Pinkut Revolution"? Well, it reminded us that ballet, like fashion, is never truly stagnant. The pink tutu might have been a complete accident, but it ignited something. A playful subversion of tradition, a delightful disregard for the usual rules, a bold move in a sea of predictability. Oh, and, dare I say, it was truly "fun", which is often forgotten about in the serious and sombre world of the high arts. The tutu, darling, is a blank canvas. It's a symbol of artistry, of fluidity, and as of that evening, pink was very clearly the new white!
Here are my hot takes from the night’s festivities:
- The dancers really rocked that pink. Their legs have never looked better!
- Pink really did make the ballet feel like an entirely new form of art. I bet they’ll be all over this, think it could start the new wave of ballet… think “Ballet 2.0”! (And for all my darlings still stuck in the "digital dark ages" of ballet 1.0. it basically means more glitter.)
- This has surely reignited a very serious passion for dance and I imagine that this kind of "shock" factor will definitely help boost numbers for their "Ballet in the Garden" events which are truly quite amazing, especially when they get the prosecco flowing!
So there you have it, dearies. The Great Tutu Debacle – a ballet, a fashion disaster, and a triumphant success, all in one delightful package. We are all in awe and we have the next year of ballet shows to thank for giving us another fabulous thing to talk about in those wonderfully stuffy intervals, during the obligatory glasses of Champagne (with lemon, darlings, of course!) and cheese sandwiches with cucumber on the side.
Now, I have a date to catch for my own rehearsal at the Royal Opera House - I’ve taken a "pinkut" myself, it’s made from real roses you know, darling. It cost a fortune and you have no idea the drama surrounding a dress this stunning. Oh well, a fashion queen does what she has to!