This is What All Ballet Portraits Should Look Like

I mean... weightless grands jetes and perfectly curved arches are nice and all... but come on:

This is so much better!

Mademoiselle Nelova, 1929

Grand Plié in First

From this "article" (term used loosely) of awkward vintage exercises:

Tap tap tappin' those toes

These both fascinate and horrify me. When I ran across them on Etsy today it took me a few seconds to realize that the terrifying industrial-zombie steel craziness going on here is for toe tap. Not too many people pull off that little party trick these days.
All for the best, really.

An Ode to Vintage Ballet Photography

Modern dance photography is all about captured movement. Graceful arabesques, dramatic leaps, and that fraction of a second when a dancer is perched just so on the front edge of her pointe shoe platform. Photography meant to inspire and thrill. To make you feel like you have seen a dance, not a photo. Dare I say it? This sort of fabulousness is ... well. Not really all that attainable for most of us.

from Gene Schiavone Photography

But Oh! for the days of classic ballet photography! Where a dancer could simply stand in her gloriously ornate costume and still cause a stirring in your heart:

Ornate and GIGANTIC. Did I mention gigantic?

How many modern dancers have even 

worn a costume big enough that you can't

get through the door?

I ask you.

Or better yet: lean subtly against the wall. Cuz mama don't need to be supporting her own weight for this whooooole dang long exposure. Walls were invented for a reason, right? Use 'em.

Look, if Margot Fonteyn can lean subtly against a wall then so can I.

Or. You know. Not so subtly:

Cure

When you see this type of old advertisement you are tempted to laugh. Such silliness! Such gullibility! Oh, the things our ignorant forebears would believe! How little we knew about medicine then! How easily the predacious could market useless products to people who didn't know better!
But... was it really so different? There are still myriad "cures" of dubious efficacy on the market. You can't go to a drug store or turn on the TV without seeing some sort of snake oil pitch.
Is it really so hard to understand why people purchased these things? In a world full of advanced technology in medicine and health we STILL don't really understand some of the dreadful things that can happen to our bodies (or that they can do to themselves). In this modern age there are still countless people suffering that can't find the help they need to get through the day without pain. When you live in pain you are desperate for answers. Desperate for relief, for help. And? If the medical establishment isn't offering that to you? Is it so strange to look for your answers elsewhere?
Sometimes, while slogging through the research debunking yet another cure-all, I have to remind myself not to judge others too harshly for finding relief when and where they can. Not to roll my eyes (well, not where anyone would see me, anyway) when someone on pinterest posts countless herbal cures that have very little chance of helping. We are all searching for something, after all.

Anyone can get yelled at for their posture...

You find the darndest things online. For example, this awkward book-reading ballerina pinup girl:

 by Freeman Elliot, circa 1949.

And lest you think that this is too random to be a particular niche in vintage erotica, here is another (and it's not even by the same artist):

by Gil Evgren, circa 1953

If you're in the States:

and if you're not then happy Thursday! I know, right? Almost Friday, that counts for something.
But seriously folks, did you think there even was more than one vintage turkey/ballerina pin-up picture in the world? Well, there you go.

A Crown of Dead Bugs Sounds So Much Less Appealing

Oh, guys! Oh, guys! You know how my lifetime project is to make a classical tutu embellished in beetle wing embroidery? Well, I just found this incredible tiara online:

Did you just DIE? It's part of a parure (set with tiara, necklace, and earrings) made in 1884 or 1885 for Lady Granville from beetles given to her husband (the foreign secretary at the time) by the ambassador of Portugal.

On a different note: I am in the process of moving right now, and I am feeling decidedly low on energy as well as time. So, I apologize for the lateness of this announcement, but I want to thank Mercie et Chatons and The Traveling Dancer for nominating me for a Liebster Award. The "award" is actually not an award at all, it's a sort of meme, a pay-it-forward kind of way to help promote blogs that you read and love. I have basically no time (or brain power) to address it right now, but I will get around to it, I swear. Right about the time I can fish my actual computer out from behind the pile of boxes that is, in theory, supposed to transform a rather stuffy bedroom in to a sewing studio. I will keep you posted!

Best. Holiday. Ever.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

Well, That Must Have Made a Hell of a Sound

Via the Victoria & Albert Museum

god save the queen

So, who else thinks that Queen Elizabeth II is awesome? And how many of you are like "Woot! Diamond jubilee! There will be big hats!" or is it just me?
One of the things that HM did for the occasion is release the complete digitized collection of Queen Victoria's rather exacting private journals. If you are in to that stuff you can check 'em out right here.
So anyway, I've been reading them here and there when something in particular grabs my attention (though, to be honest, her handwriting is pretty taxing) and eagerly waiting for any mention of the big exciting news that was the world of ballet in the early to mid 1800s. I was hoping there would be some written mention, but instead we all lucked out, because she was an artist:

 

Pauline Duvernay in Sleeping Beauty. March 12th, 1833

 “The Viennoises”, at Her Majesty's Theatre in the Haymarket. 1845

And, of course, the ballerina who will live forever, Taglioni:

 

Marie Taglioni as La Bayadère, 1832

 

"Mlle taglioni as she appeared in the ballet of Le Pouvoir de la Danse, ou la Nouvelle Terpsichore" 

1834 

And closer because it's prettier that way:

'Taglioni danced quite exquisitely', wrote Victoria, ' … she positively almost flew'

 

 

 

So, what did *you* do this weekend?

Oh, you know. Just went for a walk with my pet turkey. En pointe.