Star Crossed

I had tried out for The Nutcracker twice before, only to receive the devastatingly thin envelope in the mail, breaking my eight year old heart. But this time, I was certain, was different. I was ten now, and practiced every night in my room to a beat-up cassette tape of the fight scene music. I had attended tryouts again this year (along with 250 other little girls) and Moscelyn Larkin herself had asked me to demonstrate the steps. The day the big, fat envelope arrived; I cried my very first tears of joy. That winter, I practiced every day, all weekend every weekend, with a fervor that can only be found in a love-struck child. For I was in love, with the costumes, the way the lights heated the stage, the way the fake snow stuck in my lashes, and the way my body felt when it moved in sync with the music. Ballet made me profoundly aware, even at a young age, of the effect art can have on a person; that we humans can be moved by a sound, a word, a painting, even the delicate movement of an arm, surrounded by (fake) falling snow.

Why do I tell you all this? I wore this outfit to the ballet Wednesday night, to the final dress rehearsal of Romeo and Juliet at the Boston Ballet. I can tell you, I have read Romeo and Juliet. I've watched the Zeffirelli film. I have even seen the ballet before, but never, ever, has the story moved me to tears. Last night, with one, simple gesture (Romeo caressing Juliet's hair), I wept. 

Top: Gap

Skirt: St. John

Shoes: Kate Spade

Sunglasses: Aldo

Watch: Michael Kors

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