...danced in my head last night as I watched New York City Ballet's beautiful production of The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center. I loved every second of the performance--from the very realistic rats in the first act to the delectable second half full of dancing confectionaries. The tiny angels that opened up the second act literally floated on stage (their golden costumes were bell-like dresses that went all the way to the floor, shielding the audience from the little girl's feet and making them look like they were gliding on air), and when the snow fell onto the stage during the Waltz of the Snowflakes, I felt like I was looking out a window into an enchanted wintry forest.
Aftewards, I was laughing to myself thinking about my (probably distastrous) debut as one of the "Hot Chocolate" dancers back at Whestone, circa '89. I think Sissy was a flower in the Waltz of the Flowers, and I remember being really envious of her frilly pink costume. Mine wasn't so bad--a Spanish-insprired red and black get-up--but what little girl doesn't want to wear a pink and purple tutu?
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