A few days ago I posted a .gif I made attributing Prince Florimund’s (Prince Desiré? Who knows) angst to his inability to eat his way out of feeling blue due to the demands of white ballet tights . While meant as a humorous take on one of the dilemmas of dance – white tights are a merciless mistress, as many dancers know, the number of ‘sad but true’-type comments surprised me. So I think it’s worth saying – although you’ve probably…
“Oh look! There’s a ballet school in the neighbourhood! You know, I’d always wanted to learn ballet.” “Why don’t you?” “…no, really?” “Yes, let’s sign you up for class!” 10 minutes later, mum had paid for me to attend a term of ballet classes. Thus my ballet journey began, in the most unremarkable and typical of fashions. Except that I was 24. I was clinically depressed and anorexic. It started in university. I’d taken up my parent’s suggestion that I…