Les danseurs….
One cold Paris evening, I stood outside a little shop, transfixed by the sight of the most beautiful ballet dance wear! The tutus were decorated with sequins and gems and seemed to float in the air. In the background I could see rows and rows of satin ballet slippers, just waiting for the next ballerina to slip into them. Chandeliers and strands of sparkling beads completed the scene before me. I could almost hear the strains of Swan Lake from inside the shop. It was magical!
Les danseurs….
One cold Paris evening, I stood outside a little shop, transfixed by the sight of the most beautiful ballet dance wear! The tutus were decorated with sequins and gems and seemed to float in the air. In the background I could see rows and rows of satin ballet slippers, just waiting for the next ballerina to slip into them. Chandeliers and strands of sparkling beads completed the scene before me. I could almost hear the strains of Swan Lake from inside the shop. It was magical!