junecleavage

I grew up a Pennsylvania Ballet groupie. My parents were members which provided us with subscription privileges we went to every performance all year long with the end of the year grand reception/open dress rehearsal where we got to meet the dancers and schmooze and eat insubstantial dancer-like treats while watching them perform up close and personal. I followed the corps de ballet religiously (I would wager to bet that its the only thing I did religiously). I knew all the Principal Dancers by name and had their bios memorized. The programs and posters hung framed adorning my room and drawing me into their world as I meticulously studied the art of ballet hoping if I danced long and hard enough I would morph into the lithesome delicate flowers these demi-gods were to me. Alas I gave up all my dancing classes when I hit puberty. I was good but never dedicated or disciplined enough to reach the caliber my heroes and heroines had achieved. However, the magical appeal of ballet for me has never waned.
And this holiday season we are dressing the princess up and whisking her off to her first major ballet production in the same grand hall I attended myself at her age.
Once Principal Dancers, who I worshipped with such fervor as a young girl, are now the Ballet Mistress, Director and Ballet Master. It still makes my heart race when we enter The Academy of Music the oldest opera house in America still operating incidentally I am still a PA Ballet groupie.