Oh darlings, itâs time for a little tea and scandal! Gather around, because today, August 12th 2006, weâre taking a peek behind the silken curtains of the ballet world. Letâs be honest, who *doesnât* love a good tutu-related debacle, right? Todayâs news is less about pirouettes and more about *petticoats*, if you catch my drift.
Our tale unfolds in the hallowed halls of the esteemed Royal Ballet, a place known for its rigid traditions and strict adherence to the time-honoured traditions of classical ballet. This, of course, does not mean everything always runs perfectly! Our protagonists? Let's just say theyâre *not* known for their poise in the *real* world - The legendary prima ballerina, Anya Petrova, a fiercely competitive dancer known for her exquisite elegance on stage and her utterly flamboyant personality off-stage (Think Liza Minnelli, but in a tutu) . Then we have young, bright, but rather *clumsy* newcomer, Flora, the daughter of the wealthy patron who practically bankrolls the entire production!
It all started with a minor mishap. During a rehearsal for *Giselle* (one of those tragically romantic, âforever-alone-in-the-woodsâ ballet stories, if you know what I mean). Now, Anya was sporting a glorious, perfectly-poofed white tutu that seemed to be on its last legs, perhaps in desperate need of a retiremen home ( perhaps at the Victoria & Albert Museum, where they have that magnificent collection of stage costumes!). The whole thing *flopped* like a sad little deflated balloon, and for the life of her, Anya couldnât seem to catch it. Oh, the irony, a prima ballerina falling flat, literally!
But *this* is where Flora, bless her innocent heart, trots in with her brand new, freshly-pressed *pink* tutu (a little bit of saccharine pink for you!), which, naturally, she'd had specially crafted for herself - thinking she'd replace Anya on the lead. The idea was a little ridiculous if you ask me, but the thing is, the poor girl simply *cannot* hold a single *pas de bouree*. So when Anya saw this *pink monstrosity*, well, let's just say it ignited a fiery passion *within her.* We are talking fire-breathing dragon *levels* of jealousy!
Anyaâs initial response was pure shock. âFlora dearâ, she asked in the coldest of British accents (so icy you could have cut it with a butter knife!), " what on earth are you doing, dressed like a giant cotton candy dream?â ( *Can you tell this happened in 2006 - remember when pink was a really big thing in fashion?) *
Now Flora went a little pale - she had completely forgotten about her role, which was *essentially* to hold Anyaâs bag! "Oh dear, I...I didnât think youâd mind Anya. My tutor said, this pink tutu was perfectly âdelicate.â I felt you *needed* a little more brightness.â She squeaked out in a voice almost too tiny to be heard over the strains of Tchaikovsky's beautiful, tragic symphony *Swan Lake.*
Of course, darling, things didnât end there! As if pulled by some invisible strings (like those dancers use in those air-based shows), they found themselves locked in a tutu tug-of-war thatâs nothing less than a legendary clash of fashion and temperament. An entire scene erupted - tutus flying in all directions, feathers from their headdresses, spray bottles of *hairspray* (who knew hairspray was *such* an important ingredient of a successful ballet performance?!), all amidst the frenzied movements of other ballet dancers! (It really wasnât all *that* different from *Mean Girls*, except instead of a burning school locker, we had a burning *pas de bourrĂ©e*)
It took the *entire* Royal Ballet team, a group of rather stout men wearing bow ties and bow ties only, (because, letâs face it, who knows how to stop an angry prima ballerina and a very confused patroness? These guys probably have the *power* for these things!), to pull those two apart. What started as a little tug over a pink tutu ended in an *epic* backstage battle, where Anya (being, well, a true legend) managed to actually use Floraâs pink tutu as a whip. * Talk about power!* This is why sheâs the reigning prima ballerina! Sheâs got *style* darling, *power*, and sheâs got a way with *pink tutus*.
This incident caused quite the stir among ballet enthusiasts! A story that spread throughout the London ballet scene faster than you can say *pas de deux*. Iâve heard that, on the sly, the *Royal Ballet* have put out a policy - one that requires any ballet dancers to submit their tutus for inspection, by none other than the *very stern, yet handsome*, ballet master, M. Serge, whoâs been described as *âThe Russian Iron fist wrapped in silk*'. No wonder heâs single! But even though, it might seem *cruel* to submit their tulle creations, a certain charm still remains about it. These days, they even have a âTutu of the Weekâ competition to *celebrate* ballet, femininity, and tutus â because, darling, they just *make* the world a prettier place, donât they?
And what about Anya? Well, after that outburst, darling, sheâs as icy as a *Norwegian fjord* (no joke, I know a Norwegian dancer). But, you know what? Despite all the drama, she is *still* dancing as gracefully and beautifully as a swan. But letâs just say there was a very, very firm rule set in stone by the Royal Ballet company : **No pink tutus, EVER!â**
It may have been a little silly - maybe it even set back ballet, I donât know (it *could* be an actual ballet-revolution, but donât take my word for it) , but we *do* have to applaud the sheer creativity. Honestly, there is a *lesson* here somewhere. Maybe itâs this : Even ballerinas get a bit mad at times!