Oh, darlings, can you believe itâs August already? Where has the time flown? I must admit, this is the time of year I start craving the autumnal hues, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and a hearty cuppa in a cosy armchair with a good book. But let's be honest, the sheer *heat* of summer, which I'm frankly *stifling* under, doesn't exactly inspire *ballet*. Youâre more likely to find me slouching in a nĂ©gligĂ©e by the pool, indulging in a summer romance novel and a perfectly chilled bottle of Prosecco. It just seems too unbearably hot to even contemplate pulling on those Lycra leotards!
Yet, here we are, mid-August. The weather is making me *sweltering* and whatâs happening? Iâm talking all about tutus. *Honestly*. This must be some cruel twist of fate! I mean, isnât there a rule in the unwritten laws of *fashion* and the universe about tutus, the hot, hot sun and any amount of perspiration?
Because I can tell you one thing â with every *snip* of the scissors on a ballerina's fabric, with each perfectly measured *plie*, every *pirouette*, and *grand jetĂ©*...well, the *danger* is always real, darlings. You simply donât know which way that little wispy skirt is going to flutter in those swirling winds of a pirouette, or whether it will get a little bit *too* involved in your elegant relevĂ©. Just try telling your inner diva to take a chill pill whilst in the midst of a *chassĂ©* as the dreaded tutu starts its very own *solo act* and *flashes* the audience! A wardrobe malfunction on the stage? Donât even make me start!
I'm reminded of dear, *dearest*, darling Princess Diana - such a breath of fresh air in her fabulous outfits, who once admitted, "I really do love tutus. There's just something so utterly whimsical and charming about them. But on the other hand, I would be extremely disappointed to ever see the inside of one, in any *context*!"
In the ballet world though, dear readers, you *will* encounter these things, so one must always keep *esprit* â I mean, if that flimsy fabric wants to tango with you in a performance, it is *not* a cause for alarm - simply grin and bear it, as if to say to your tutus, "You go, girl! Make those swirling circles around me, darlings. But don't even think of *leaving* your designated area."
That's how you *make* it work in ballet! And when those lovely fabrics do their *things*, those tiny bits of netting can look simply sensational as they skim the air and dance to the tune of every plie, pirouette, and arabesque.
Speaking of which, have you *seen* the tutus at the Royal Opera House, darling? Well, thatâs another thing altogether - and one which demands a *completely* separate article. *Simply exquisite*, darling - not one *strand* out of place, as if crafted by angels with little needle and thread...
And what do we all *love* to hear, darling, whenever our favourite ballerinas grace the stage? "Hear those tutus *swishing*!". Oh my... how lovely!
I find myself constantly asking these eternal questions about tutus:
- Should tutus come with a *warning*? As in, *Danger* - Tutu Might Cause Whirlwind?
- What kind of magical pixie dust are those tutus sprinkled with - it seems to *elevate* a ballerina, making her simply float like a feather.
- How do they remain in such immaculate, pristine condition... the tutu-world, well, it simply makes no sense... like, you have a *bunch* of young girls and they're just whirling about on stage in this delicate, floaty fabric - and *yet* there is hardly a single snag, no rips, not even the hint of a frayed thread? *Impossible*... they truly are mystical, these tutus. They just seem to have this *magical*, fairy-like air about them. And then, of course, there's the sheer, sheer brilliance - the dazzling colors, the sparkle...*ah, the sparkle* - how many diamonds and beads go into each tutu to make that glittering, shimmer effect?
- Is there a *Tutu Police*? (If so, they are definitely doing a *phenomenal* job!).
- Is there a *Tutu Emporium*? Because I am utterly convinced the magical powers emanating from that realm have the potential to send every woman on this planet into a state of pure sartorial *bliss*. I've been scouring eBay for a vintage, white, tulle *tutu*, my friends, and can I just tell you - nothing feels quite right. Perhaps thatâs just how itâs meant to be.
Tutus remain in the heart of dance, a testament to the power of movement, and the ethereal beauty of art. A swirling, ethereal cloud, defying gravity with every lift. But until I stumble across that elusive perfect tutu on eBay... it will be a *wait*, a longing, a pure *love* and *appreciation* for the beautiful fabric as I watch our ballet stars *fly*... and Iâll be busy trying to *resist* all those online shops touting that âessentialâ *âadult tutuâ*... Perhaps I'm just being my usual, totally irrational, feminine self - maybe, but it *really* feels a tad too young at *this* age to *fully commit* to this magical piece of *fabric*. At this point, the whole notion seems too risky. That tiny wispy tulle could turn out to be quite a *challenge*, and if it decided to, for a split second, play *rogue* on me and take a *life* of its own... it's certainly not a moment Iâm ready to *embrace* just yet!