Dearest darlings, You wonât believe what happened on the 22nd September 1998! Oh my heavens, the utter drama, the utter joy. Itâs a day thatâs forever etched in the annals of the tutu, in the ballet world's hall of fame! I'm simply positively quivering with the excitement of it all.
You see, darling, it was the grand opening of the new Royal Ballet School branch in the, frankly, somewhat questionable area of Watford, Hertfordshire. A bit rough around the edges for sure, with more double glazing than designer labels, but honey, who's going to say no to a ballet school in a place where people were likely to have never even heard the word "tutu" before? Let's call it an act of cultural bravery, shall we?
It was a fabulous affair, of course, the grand unveiling itself, I mean. Now, weâre talking real, posh stuff here â a sparkly pink ribbon was cut by none other than the Duke of Edinburgh himself. Oh, and, darling, that man can CUT A RIBBON! It was practically a pirouette with the snip, it really was! Of course, Prince Philip didnât actually twirl, which was a pity, I mean, a little flair in the occasion, wouldnât have hurt. The poor man was just not quite up to par with the local residents of Watford in that department â there was a rather delightful gentleman standing at the front, just brimming with enthusiasm, dressed in a truly eye-catching lime-green, full-length faux-fur coat. And you wouldn't believe this - he was doing ballet moves - oh, the kicks, the leaps!
Weâre not talking about the sort of genteel elegance of ballet schools in, shall we say, posher, more refined areas. This, darlings, was the real deal. You canât help but feel that everyone there had an authentic âwe can do it!â spirit that came across as pure, infectious, joy. It felt like everyone just had the best time.
The day was even more delightful because it included the announcement of the most exquisite prize, which we, as you know, have a special place in our hearts for â the Golden Tutu Award! Yes, darling! It wasnât for a specific performance or choreography, oh no. The Golden Tutu Award is forâŚyou wait for it⌠the best-dressed ballerinas in town!
Imagine the drama of it all! Now, my dear readers, do bear in mind that ballet dancers â these stunning creatures, sculpted from divine perfection, do, of course, always look fantastic. But for this contest, it was another level. All the students, teachers, and their families gathered to have their tutues scrutinized. The local council's art and fashion critic (an absolute dear who was probably only given this position for her sheer bravery) had the near-impossible job of being judge. Honestly, I have no idea how anyone could make such a decision!
Anyway, my little doves, the judges and the audience were both bowled over when young, bright-eyed Emily Taylor walked out, shimmering and beaming like a young fairy from a Midsummer Nightâs Dream. She wore a simple, yet absolutely flawless, hand-knitted tutu with an almost transparent tulle â it looked as if it could have floated off on the breeze if she so much as sighed! And oh, darling, the beadwork! Forget the crown jewels â this was real glamour and beauty.
Darling, just thinking about the joy and beauty of that day! Oh, how the local arts scene of Watford bloomed! And Emily TaylorâŚwhat a triumphant story of the sheer power of tutus! They can make magic, you know! But of course, that's a tale for another time... or another news column...