Hardly Workin'

I just worked eleven days in a row, mostly 11 hour per day. Because apparently it was someone's bright idea to build an entire show out of flimsy silken nothingness and no one planned on... you know... hiring people to put it together. My joints no longer function, but that's okay; my brain doesn't either.
An incredible amount of the past two weeks of my life is in this picture:

 just click on the damn thing for the attribution, I have 

no brain nor patience left for that shit

and even though I pretty much despise every single one of these dresses, now, at least it is over and done with and my life can spiral slowly back to normal. Which apparently means binge-watching the entire fifth season of Downton Abbey in two days, but whatever.
I took class last night. Apparently I have forgotten how my feet work.

I Call This One "Somebody Else can Press the Damn Skirt"

More Peau D'ane. Maybe? For her moon or stars dress? Who knows. This is another "here, take this tutu and this thrift store salwar kameez and make it a Cinderella dress"
I refrained from making another lace-up Swiss waist, but only because I don't want another teenager to hate me. ONE IS ENOUGH.

Can't Stop

The work. The work. It's endless! It just goes on and on! I am actually missing classes because I need the time and energy to make recital costumes! Aye carumba. And? I haven't even started on the adults, yet!
I will post some photos soon, so you know I am still alive.

It Begins

Recital season. It isn't really approaching all that quickly, you know? It's a couple of solid months until the performance. Regardless, I am already working on costumes. It's good, really, to get started ages in advance because the Summer brings with it an early theater season and a wedding I have to sew for/do anything else I am asked to for. Also, apparently I am supposed to make all sorts of stuff from scratch for this recital? Which was news to me, but whatever. I've been dragging home piles and wads of tutus, dresses, fabrics, and even a couple of thrift-store wedding gowns that I am going to be chopping to bits. My sewing studio is already a sight to confound and distress.
See?

It's not supposed to look like this.
 Would you believe I have a proper cutting table? You wouldn't know it from that stupid cutting board on the floor that I perpetually use to the detriment of every joint in my body...

Anyway, that is the state of the very small sewing-related union. I'm currently mid-way (or less, there might be more girls added to the dance) through turning five really ugly little tutus in to water lily costumes for a group of teeny tiny girls (maybe 5-6 years old? So small.) Here is an awful blown-out flash-in-a-dark-room-at-10pm glimpse of the progress:

Well, you can see what I'm getting at, anyway.

They would be much cuter worn with little froggy head dresses, IMO.

Le Roi Danse

I tried, okay? I really tried. I tried to watch Le Roi Danse (the king dances), the French costume drama about Louis XIV and his ballet-arific life. I tried. I gave it a real, honest, loving attempt. But I couldn't even make it half way through. I know! It's all that you could possibly want in a movie! 18th century costumes! Ballet! Royal intrigue! Homo-eroticism! Beautiful music! But I just couldn't. I could. Not.
Maybe you will have better luck. Here, give it a shot:

The Ides of March. Or Whatever.

"You are so good at this"
That's a nice thing to hear your teacher say, while standing directly behind you at the barre. We were, for the record, doing some crazy développé variation that included strange fondu-esque synchronized leg straightening. I was hitting it out of the park, I guess. Because I am just a badass like that. In all honesty it's probably the only thing I did well all night, but you have to take what you can get.
I've also been getting a lot of praise on my posture, lately. I have two lovely curves in my spine which freaked out my pediatrician and make standing up straight a matter of opinion more than anything else. I get SO much crap for my posture. Like, constant crap. For some reason I recently tried straightening my back by pulling my pelvis all out of whack and pushing back as hard as I possibly can with the lower third of my spine. Apparently that did the trick. It does make balances easier, I'll give it that.

Blargh. March. I really hate March. Nothing good happens in March. I am having a hard time not feeling like punching everyone I meet right now, so please excuse the terrible lag in blog posts! I am winding up for a VERY long and stressful Spring and Summer, in which I will be working like a dog and trying to be a good maid of honor at the same time. Recital season is approaching fast and I've already been tasked with figuring out how to turn a bunch of kids in to geese and a bunch more in to water lilies (water lilies are... they are round, flat, green things. Here ya go, kid, I made you a swathe of green spandex stretched over a hula hoop. Now look graceful! Haaa... no. I promise not to make any small children suffer. Much.) Mostly I am looking forward to September, simply because I will be done with all these obligations. That should tell you something.

"A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever" - John Keats

People give you stuff when you sew. Like... "Hey. My granny just died and I was cleaning out her closet and I found this garbage bag full of polyester double knit and plastic beaded fringe from 1974 and I thought of you immediately!" And of course you accept it, because that's really nice (and besides their granny just died so you feel bad for them). And... well... because you can't pass up a sack of fabric! It might come in handy some day. You never know what treasures could be in that sack! I've got lovely silk brocade hanging in my closet that was buried at the bottom of a garbage bag full of broken trim and powder blue metallic netting.
Apparently, if you run a ballet studio people do something similar. But with costumes. "You teach ballet! Wow! You won't believe it but my second cousin's great aunt's neighbor's niece used to do jazz and tap and somehow I ended up with an entire storage unit full of AMAZING costumes!" Your gratitude is assumed.

In preparation for the studio's big Summer recital I am going through tupperware bin upon tupperware bin full of random tutus, leotards, and other costume bits and bobs that somehow ended up in the studio's possession, weeding out the ones that are beyond hope and fixing the most egregious flaws in the remainder. I have spent a couple of weeks, now, going through these, and it's totally awesome, to be quite honest. Especially because I get to remove/trash the ones I would rather burn than work on (a rare and empowering experience in the world of costuming!). Below I present some of the most heinous incredible creations that ever graced the form of a 7 year old in tap shoes and pigtails...

Now. Some of them aren't so bad. This one, for instance, could use to be soaked in Oxiclean for a month and gone over with a steamer to remove wrinkles, but you can see what they were getting at, anyway:

I'm thinking Tinkerbell.

And there are things that... well. They aren't really SO bad. Not when you consider that they must have come from 1987:

I mean, yes, it's ugly. But check out that sky-high French-cut leg opening we've got going on, here. You

just can't be mad at a leotard inspired by Jane Fonda AND Gunne Sax, can you?

No. You can't.

Of course, then there are things for which words seem inadequate:

It inspires one to poetry, does it not?

The neon pink fringe

it lay-th below

acid green sequins,

all aglow...

And then this happened:

I want to point out that this neon yellow and pink

leopard print unitard, here, is an ADULT size small.

Adult. I am just going to leave you with that.

Great Big Pile of Nope

"In your professional opinion, are these tutus worth keeping?"

Nooooooooooope.

ze Queen and ze firebird

How is the "no ballet in opera" scene from Amadeus not on Youtube? How am I supposed to make this post even vaguely related to ballet without a visual aid of the most ballet-related thing going on in my life right now? GEEZE, PEOPLE!
My husband has been gone to visit family for the past few days and I have spent my alone time eating entire pints of sherbet straight from the tub and watching movies set in the 18th century for fabulous rococo costuming inspiration (so depressing, all these movies! All of them! Why are there no happy movies with panniers and giant hair?) and because I am reading a biography about Marie Antoinette.
Did you know Marie Antoinette was a dancer? Ballet was different, naturally, than it is now, but she loved to dance. Here she is performing a ballet with her brother at a state wedding:

Last week my teacher gave me a copy of all the videos from last Summer's recital. All my costumes! Eeeee! The Firebird looked so cool! I wish I had stills to share with you guys, or that the videos weren't in such a shitty low resolution that I could take screen caps that weren't awful. It looked really nice moving around, with all the flamey bits swishing about. Sigh...

I would blur out faces but the resolution on these is so dreadful that I am pretty sure they count as anonymous.
PS: I am not responsible for the weird little poky-outy feathers at the edges.
Someone just did that. I had no control.

Blog Maintenance and Life Update

I've gone through and added some new related blogs, and removed a few that haven't been active within the last six months +. If you are one of the people I dropped, never fear! If you post again I'll pop you back in to the blogroll. I'm just trying to keep it tidy up in here, up in here.

The studio is closing in on it's recital (just a couple more weeks and then I get to take pointe class without running through Swan Lake like a million times. Hallelujah!) and I am down to the wire on a few remaining costume things that need finishing up. Just embellishing the Firebird's leotard and whipping up two more little peasant bodices for the kids (six total, I think). I will be extremely thankful when it's over and I can reclaim my sewing room. You can't even walk in there, it's ridiculous (tutus, man, they take up a lot of space).
To add a little extra to my plate (because I totally needed that) my summer work schedule has just kicked in. So, now my days off are rare and precious and the arthritis in my hands is going to need a lot of babying. Right now I am building a new show, so basically I work 8 hours a day making bodices and then I come home and... make bodices. I am going to be pretty tired of bodices by the end of this week, let me tell you.

Here is the Firebird's tutu embellishment, done and out of my life. sadly you will just have to believe me when I say it has lots of texture and looks interesting in motion:

Oh man, guys. I wanted to bedazzle this thing SO BAD. I had to stop myself with sequins in hand TWICE. It just... it just needs glitter. It does. Everything needs glitter, guys.

the Purple Tutu

Still working on recital costume repair/alteration/etc.
You see this tutu?

This tutu makes me sad. It's not constructed badly. It's made from a pretty standard pattern. There is a full underlining/flat lining. The basque and bodice are separate pieces. It's all as it should be. But the materials they chose to make it out of? They are awful. The acetate satin is bad but forgivable. But that skirt, regardless of the fact that it is constructed exactly the way a classical tutu should be constructed, is made with such limp and lifeless tulle (that has then been washed a hundred times, probably) that it just sort of... droops. It makes me sad because someone must have put so much time and effort in to it, and the result is so... just... sigh...
Oh, and it was closed all the way down the back with velcro. I don't know if you have ever accidentally caught tulle (or lace, or your pantyhose, or that beautiful silk chiffon blouse you just made...) on the scratchy side of a piece of velcro, but it's insanity. I couldn't even wear my wrist braces while working on this thing because the tiny edges of velcro that hold them closed kept catching on the tulle and shredding it. As you can imagine, the velcro closure has done horrible things down the back of this little guy.
My seamstress's heart. It aches for you.

Don't Glue It, You Have Sew Much to Live For!

You know what is awesome? Slipping on the carpeted stairs (because you are wearing slippery satin shoes with fuzzy socks on top) and falling all the way to the ground floor, hitting every single stair along the way. Every. Single. One.
Did I break in my pointe shoes, or did I just break myself? It was one of those things where you think to yourself "you know, this is really dangerous and I could really hurt myself" a split second before it all goes wrong. I am lucky I didn't break anything.
That happened last night. Today I feel... like I just fell down a flight of stairs, honestly (also stupid, I feel really really stupid). Both elbows are skinned and bruised, my butt looks like I was hit with a two by four (actually I was hit with half a dozen two by fours...), and I appear to have majorly pulled every single muscle in my upper back/neck/shoulders. You know that whole port de corps en ronde thing? Yeah, that SO isn't happening right now.

On the recital costume front:
I was sent home tonight with this... thing (there is no nice name for it) and told to remove the junky lace apron and ugly trim across the front (it's going on an ugly step sister in Cinderella, BTW) and to generally clean it up (at work we call that "making it pretty" which is just a nice way of saying "this thing needs some serious help. Please. Stage an intervention")

Only problem? As soon as I got it in my lap with a seam ripper in hand I discovered the awful truth. It is all attached WITH GLUE. Uuuuuggggghhhhh...

Raymonda: A Synopsis That REALLY Won't Help You

I was pooking about in my drafts folder and found these notes, taken while watching Raymonda online almost a year ago. I honestly can't say I remember exactly what was going on, I really should have gotten around to writing up a review ages ago but it never happened. So now, presented without further embellishment or explanation (because I am drawing a blank, guys, for reals) here are my notes on the classic story ballet Raymonda:

ugly night gown costume
Arab who doesn't seem all that bad
my boner is so powerful it can command these underage slaves to wear really unflattering costumes while jumping around in a deeply silly way
shaggy-haired white dude
dream sequence, living statue
the bit of choreography we learned in class for the recital
sexy pre-sword-fight face off, sexiest 5 seconds of the whole ballet
I guess I just don't really like Petipa all that much OH THE HORRORS AND SACRILEGE

how are the tutus going, RPrin?

it's tutu much

SO MANY TUTUS

The first batch of OH SO MANY unfortunate burgundy tutus that I have to alter in to wearability before the next recital:

I regret everything.

As I was carrying the giant trash bag full of these things out to my car last week my teacher said I looked "just like Santa Claus! But with the ugliest tutus EVER."

Crazy Tutu Day

Well, Halloween class was pretty dang fun. There were costumes, and crazy rock and roll accompaniment, and I didn't even run over any trick-or-treaters on the drive home. Woo! My teacher was wearing a full-body bear suit, which was basically adorable during EVERY SINGLE exercise. Dance class should be like a high school and have crazy hair day or pajama day (or more likely tutu day) once a month.
You know, when I was in high school I never (never EVER) participated in those "spirit days" but to this day I have nightmares that I go to school with no clothes on because it is supposed to be naked day and no one told me it was canceled. And then I have to pretend I am not naked and hope no one notices? Ugh. Never mind.

Halloween Dream

So, I have class on Halloween, this year. In fact I have 2 and a half straight hours of class. And everyone at the studio wants to wear costumes!
I am a BIG fan of wearing costumes at every opportunity, but I seriously doubt the ballet potential of anything in my closet.
What do I have all ready and waiting? Let's see.
There is: Dr. Horrible
Alex Delarge
the White Rabbit (from Alice)
my Renaissance Faire garb (yes, I am one of those people)
Mime
Death
Dinosaur
And these aren't "sexy" costumes, either. Well, Alex has a miniskirt because there was no way I could pull off a jockstrap and I had to embody over-sexed violent youth culture SOMEhow. But otherwise we are talking full-body costumes, here. With accessories and goggles (and a bitchin' dinosaur hat complete with feathers).
Choices, choices.
In seriousness, though, I'm pretty sure that almost anything that goes on my head would fly off as soon as we hit that first flic-flack, and anything that requires face painting or makeup would just end up dripping down my face and getting smeared all over the place because dudes, I am old and it is always 80 degrees in the studio. So, I will probably just bust out the one dance-proof costume headband I have (tiger ears). But, oh, what fun we could have. Now I wish I had tiger striped tights! I could totally rock that.

So, what did you do at work today?

I did this:

I have the best job.

That is what a classical tutu looks like from underneath, in case you didn't recognize it. It's also EXACTLY as much of a pain in the ass to wrangle through a sewing machine as you would think. I also made little white leotards with sparkly business to go along with it. I am going to rehearsal tonight specifically to see what the heck is going on with these things.

I also shared a nice conversation with one of my coworkers about starting ballet as an adult. She started pointe at 38! That is my goal: pointe before I'm 40. At first my goal was "pointe before Jenny" Jenny being my young niece-in-law who was taking ballet lessons (name changed to protect the innocent), but I'm not sure she's stuck with it.

Recital Ramblings

My last post (which dealt largely with the topic of cartoon characters from our misspent youth appearing in modern pornography) is now officially my most popular post EVER. Way to go, guys. You people have issues.
I love you anyway, though.
Maybe I should label all my posts "porn" and "gross out" and watch my numbers skyrocket?

But, no. We are here, my friends, to discuss the worlds of ballet and rheumatism and the exciting, sometimes dreadful manner in which they collide.
Out of a horrible pang of guilt at the thought of always refusing to participate in the studio's annual recital (let's face it, honey, even if I wasn't working on weekends this Summer I still wouldn't be signing up) I volunteered to alter and mend (and generally "clean up" and "make pretty", which are the nice terms we use in the professional world when something really heinous crosses our path) the rather elderly and decrepit costumes the ladies (and... possibly a gent. At this point they are considering an en travesti Romeo, because we don't appear to have any dudes available) will be wearing. There is a lot of shattered chiffon and several oddly not-quite-complete bodices going on here. There may well be a few atrocious sequined powder-puff tutus at some point, as well.
We shall see how badly I regret this offer a month from now.

In preparation for said recital tonight we practiced a lot of ballet running. I did well at it, as I generally do with ballet walking. My teacher declared that I must have been practicing but I will let you in on a secret: I haven't been. There is a story behind this, though.
When I was about 14 or 15 my pet cat was hit by a car. She was in terrible condition for a long time afterward. One of her hind legs was dislocated at the hip. The other was mangled so badly that it had pins in it for a while, but in the end it had to be amputated. She needed a lot of serious care while she was recovering, and so I would pick her up and carry her very carefully. I realized that the impact from stepping while holding her was hurting her and so I started to mindfully mimic the way a ballet dancer walks whenever I carried her. Toe first, gentle knee bend, toe first, gentle knee bend. For the rest of her life I was the only person she would allow to carry her.
So, my mad ballet walkin' skillz are entirely thanks to a little grey cat with three legs.
Thank you, baby girl. I miss you.

Tutututututututu

As we were discussing tutus recently:  here is a nice photo walk-through of how a classical tutu skirt is constructed in a professional costume shop.

loverly.