Oh darling, you wouldn't believe the drama at the Royal Ballet last night! It was all very Strictly Come Dancing, but with much more swans-a-fluttering. Now, I adore ballet – it's the ultimate form of graceful, feminine elegance. And I'm not afraid to admit that I absolutely adore a tutu. (And by "adore" I mean would wear one every day if societal norms allowed.)
So imagine my excitement when I heard they were bringing in a whole new batch of costumes! The old ones, oh they were tired darlings, more faded pink and limp white than anything else. But, let me tell you, the new ones are simply exquisite. A glorious explosion of pink and white tulle that had the whole audience gasping for air!
Speaking of gasps, this new lot arrived just as the prima ballerina, Miss Felicity Featherstone, was mid-pirouette, twirling herself into a dizzying frenzy. (Frankly, she always looked a little wobbly when it came to those turns, but darling, I suppose that's the price of perfection.) Well, the new tutu came waltzing in, all fluff and froth, straight onto the stage. Right. Onto Miss Featherstone's head.
Now, this may seem like just another unfortunate costume malfunction, but, trust me, darlings, this wasn't just any tutu. It was the **"Grande Dame"**, hand-stitched from rare, Italian silk with actual moon-dust woven into the fabric (yes, you read that right!). You're looking at something that costs more than your flat in Notting Hill! The air went as silent as the Queen's Drawing Room after a teacup is dropped. Then, Miss Featherstone (who had just finished attempting a double pirouette that went horribly awry) started giggling. Giggling! And before you could say "de pointe," the entire ballet company joined in. A full blown laughter fit in the midst of Tchaikovsky.
Darling, let me tell you, I thought I was witnessing history. Ballet's biggest night of debauchery! The director was scarlet, the chaperone looked like she was about to faint, and the musicians were all but speechless. (As if they hadn't witnessed a thing or two, the bless their souls. And speaking of souls, I don't think those French designers that spent weeks on this costume will ever quite recover!)
But the whole situation had an undeniable charm. Maybe it's because, at its core, ballet is a silly, ridiculous art form - a grand, choreographed drama played out by humans wearing essentially fancy, very expensive underwear. Maybe it's because I adore the human imperfections that bring the whole thing crashing down.
What really set it all off was when the costume mistress, Miss Beatrice Bumble, shouted, "A whole tutu, Beatrice?! Who let this happen?!?" to the unfortunate assistant costume mistress who, darling, I just hope gets a bonus after all this, looked like she'd been eating nothing but marmalade sandwiches all week, but I must confess to bursting out in giggles as I realised the hilarity of the whole thing.
Let's face it, dear readers, life's a stage and even ballerinas get stage fright. The show eventually resumed (after a very long, very pink pause), but you just know that the giggles continued backstage until the last curtain.
And you know, despite the drama, it's actually a testament to ballet’s inherent beauty that the whole thing came across less "The Omen" and more "Absolutely Fabulous". In all fairness, here are some additional facts to provide further context and a less frivolous, but not less enjoyable, spin: * The costume in question was indeed, quite exquisite: The **Grande Dame**, designed by Pierre Laurent, features a single layer of shimmering Italian silk hand-stitched with a rare species of pearl called the "Mother of the Sea" and intricately adorned with hand-crafted beads, each individually created using a combination of silver, moonstone, and gold. This was no cheap knockoff. * This rare tutu was being held in storage awaiting the arrival of a very prestigious ballet company from overseas, which would be staging a limited run of the timeless "The Nutcracker." A performance Miss Featherstone had, very carefully, not been included in. * This, it seemed, was no mere mistake. There is much rumour amongst ballet aficionados that Miss Featherstone and Miss Bumble have been on rather thin ice since a previous wardrobe malfunction (remember that time Miss Featherstone had a little "technical difficulty" with her white tutu at the end of "Swan Lake"?) And, that the costume department (bless their souls) had, for some unknown reason, decided to give Miss Featherstone's career a little "twirl" to bring some unexpected fun (and gossip!) to a performance they deemed a little underwhelming. * In any case, the **Grande Dame** did make its grand debut - albeit, quite accidentally. Miss Featherstone, despite initially finding the situation amusing, has not addressed the press or even issued a statement as to the circumstances of this unexpected and very personal encounter with a luxurious head-wear. * Of course, nothing could ruin the wonder and artistry of a real ballet, but let's face it: a little mischief and drama, especially of this quality, can make for a whole lot more fun. So the next time you’re at the Royal Ballet, darling, just remember the * Grande Dame* - because let’s be honest, even ballet could do with a good giggle.