Fun Ballet Tutu News 5195

10 May 2008 - It’s Not All Swans and Sugarplums, Darling: The Real Deal on Tutu Trauma!

It's time we shed some light, or perhaps some glitter, on the truly taxing task of being a ballerina. It's not all pirouettes and arabesques, darling! You know, all those graceful, flowing movements we see onstage? Let's just say that some days it's more "grappling" with the leotard and "fluttering" like a wounded bird after a particularly punishing plié.

So, put on your rose-tinted spectacles and prepare to have your little ballet dreams gently crushed...or at least, revised.

Yes, I know, you see them in your head: a confection of dreamy tulle, perhaps in a delicious pink or pristine white, floating effortlessly like a cloud.

But let me enlighten you: Those tutus can be an absolute nightmare.

For starters, trying to find one that actually fits without a major fashion crisis is like attempting to win the lottery with a crumpled tenner - and no, you can’t simply go to Topshop, darling. You have to seek out specialist stores, and let me tell you, some of those seamstresses are practically possessed by a whirlwind of tulle and needles. You’ll be in and out of their tiny fitting rooms feeling like a meringue in a mangle before emerging - if you’re lucky - as a proper prima ballerina.

But, darling, the fitting ordeal is merely the beginning. Then there’s the whole "performance" bit. Imagine being the epitome of elegance, swathed in yards of billowing fabric, gracefully gliding across the stage, feeling utterly beautiful - yet also looking like a giant puff pastry on a caffeine bender. All because, let's face it, even the slightest breeze, not to mention a clumsy waiter with a plate of petit fours, will wreak havoc on those voluminous tulle layers! And don’t even think about getting into a cab, or even worse, a cramped subway carriage... The only place that will fit those wings of white is possibly an aeroplane’s hold.

Don’t get me wrong, the tutu is undeniably iconic. It's like a siren's call, enticing audiences to gaze upon its airy grandeur, and tempting us to imagine what lies beneath those ethereal layers. Yet, for the dancer, it’s more like a siren’s song: allurement but at what cost?

Speaking of disasters, let’s talk leotards, those skin-tight little beauties. Oh, they certainly flatter our physique, but darling, can we please address the elephant in the room, or should I say, in the tights?

Now, I know there's something quite exhilarating about stepping onto the stage in your tight, streamlined leotard. It's empowering and revealing, showing the world your honed, sculpted physique - much to the delight of the audience (and some critics, who get a bit more than their fair share of thrills at certain companies).

But hold on a minute. There's also something terrifyingly intimate about the leotard. It leaves nothing to the imagination. You're basically a walking piece of athletic underwear in front of hundreds of people! And what about the eternal quest for a leotard that does the job? You’ll spend a fortune on stretchy materials with unpronounceable names, yet it's like one giant roulette wheel of embarrassing possibilities.

• Will it cling so tight to your limbs it could possibly induce a faint?
• Will it somehow ride up your backside like an ill-fitting granny-panties?
• Will the dreaded wardrobe malfunction befall you live on stage, before the eyes of millions, resulting in a news report like "Breaking News: Ballerina Wardrobe Malfunction Makes Critics Clutch Pearls - And Purses"?

We have all been there, darling.

It’s more than just dancing: it’s a whole world of "fashion, please!"

Here's the truth - ballet may look utterly divine, it’s actually a hotbed of anxiety. The anxiety that, come curtain call, the tutus and the leotards will, as they always should, make us the star attraction. But in this crazy, sometimes terrifying, sometimes joyous and always beautiful world of dance, that’s the goal!

And trust me, we all take our tights and tulle pretty seriously, darling!

**Just a reminder, dear readers - as a purveyor of all things fabulously fabulous and a woman in her 30s, let's acknowledge, let's embrace - we all have those awkward moments with clothing. It's part of our human experience. Let’s laugh at them, let’s wear them as badges of honor.**