A Dancer's Take On Balletcore
I have thoughts!
Back in July of 2023, I opened the Notes app on my phone and made the following new entry to my List: “flats that are sort of cool and weird looking but most importantly that I can wear all day.” In one month I would be starting rehearsals for a play, and I wanted a shoe that was comfortable to wear to work, but more formal and unexpected than a sneaker.
Either I was tapping into some collective group desire, or the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon was in action, but almost immediately after making this phone entry I saw ballet flats EVERYWHERE. Mary Janes, woven flats, ugly-cute flats, flats made to look like actual pointe shoes. It was easy to see why we all wanted them, in our post-pandemic, perpetual semi-formal-semi-casual state. The shoes, with their low profile, slim fit, and seemingly limitless color offerings, could pair well with a wide range of looks—dressing up wide-leg denim, femme-ing up an oversized blazer, making a sassy mini nonchalant.
But the surge of ballet flats was part of a larger fashion wave. With the shoes came a major comeback of bows, and even more iterations of sheer and floaty layers. (We were already two-ish years deep into see-through dresses and sheer paneling.) Soon the girlies even stopped wearing pants! And all of this complemented the already thriving middle-part, slicked bun. Balletcore had come back with a vengeance.
For me, this presented a little bit of a problem. I have a semiconscious tick that makes me resistant to taking part in a big trend. I don’t like to look like everyone else! I love a fashion prompt, but copy-paste is the enemy! On top of that, balletcore as a phenomenon has made me *eye-roll* a little bit in the past. It’s not that I don’t love dance! She is my first true love! But to me, dancers are athletes. When I think about the clothes I wear to dance in, I think about clothing that can withstand training: sweating, stretching, rolling around on the floor, partnering. Unless I am putting on a character (very fun!), dance itself rarely makes me feel like a fairy. Or a princess. Or a fairy princess!
In that sense, to me balletcore is cosplay in the truest sense of the word, because it idolizes not the ballerina, but the costumes she wears to perform onstage. I suspect that the image most people have in their minds looks something like this:
It makes sense! Most people interact with dancers as audience members, when the performers are in costume. But for contrast, here is what I wore to rehearsal this week:
No tulle, no bows, and, because I work in musical theater, not even a ballet slipper. Instead, once I got to rehearsal, I swapped ballet slippers for Laduca boots—or COLONIAL BOOTS, as my friend Tom likes to yell, whenever he spots masses of showgirls in the now ubiquitous heeled black lace-ups. (I apologize for nothing! If I’m rehearsing in a heel all-day-every-day I’ll take the support where I can get it!)
Listen: there doesn’t have to be anything wrong with idolizing or mimicking a ballet dancer onstage. Ballets are a fantasy. A perfect intersection of beauty and strangeness and folktale and high art. As a young person, I loved the stories of Coppélia and Giselle and Swan Lake, all those ghosty women in the woods. But as an adult, my inner alarm bells start to go off whenever ballet fever hits. Let’s just call it what it is: underneath all the tulle and the feathers is the not-so-secret obsession the fashion industry has with an idealized, extremely thin, waif-like body. We Americans are obsessed with youth, and many ballets center a youthful, virginal protagonist—as do the ad campaigns that imitate them. [Also, because no one speaks in a ballet, that female-identifying protagonist is conveniently silent.]
If the obsession with balletcore is actually fueled by the fashion industry’s religious fervor for youth and thinness, then this is made especially clear every time a brand chooses to hire an exceptionally thin model with little to no training for its advertising campaigns. (I’m really trying to resist calling anybody out, but I bet you every single one of your dance friends still remembers this infamous Free People ad from 2014. Perhaps, when/if FP auditioned dance professionals, they were dismayed to find some actual…muscle mass?) And hey, I’m not trying to come for the models themselves here—dance is for everybody, and everyone has to pay rent, I get it. But it’s still worth mentioning that, when the ballet references start to reappear in fashion, many an ad campaign places actual dance proficiency as second or third priority, and body shape, unsurprisingly, is king. Which makes the reference decidedly less of an homage to the art form. More of a vehicle to pump the same old bullshit into the collective psyche? IT’S ALL A LITTLE SUSS TO ME. And, to be frank, the ballet world does not need more incentive to pressure dancing bodies towards a uniform standard of hyper-thinness. We are trying to expand in the other direction, thanks!
But enough criticism. Here’s the flip side—I AM a dancer, dammit. I love the costumes! I enjoy an occasional bow! Ballet performance (and balletcore generally) tends to embrace a little drama, and I am a forever-fan of some drama in the wardrobe. The world is so frightening right now, and if dressing up like a ballet dancer brings a person a little joy, who am I to yell about it? I am especially here for the ballet flats on the boys!
SO, for this week’s issue of Costume Change, I thought I’d get off my soapbox and challenge myself to take on the trend, in a way that felt authentic to me. Inspiration is everywhere, and I think there are some principals of balletcore that spark a lot of closet creativity. And why not? Social media might lead us to believe that every new trend requires us to buy buy buy, but a trend is really just a fashion prompt in disguise. So here we go! A dancer dressing like a dancer! So meta.
Act I
Floaty flute-sleeves, leggings (but with a sassy detail), fishnet socks, loafs. Honestly pretty pumped about how this turned out—good soft pants outfit. Also I hadn’t worn this top in a WHILE/consider her a summer starlet, so I’m grateful for the push. It’s giving ballerina off-duty to me!
Act II
Had to do a pretty-in-pink one. But, for me, the blazer keeps it from being too precious. I’d also probably add a bold lip to wear this out, maybe a really deep red, for the same reason. We can be femme and kick ass at the same time, okkeeeeeee.
Act III
A puff sleeve! A sock that acts like a legwarmer! Tights! But if the 80s socks and Mary Janes are just too much for ya, it’s also cute with a loafer? I actually think this is a great example of an outfit I may have never put together without this prompt.
Curtain Call
Screw the weather! A girl can dream! And I wanted to do one with a floaty skirt, á la spooky ballerinas in the woods. Alsoooo I am feeling like one of my childhood ballet teachers wore a version of this vintage top, over a leotard? So we’ll just pin this here for next summer.
OKAY Y’ALL I am literally typing this from my dressing room and it’s half hour and I have to go do a show ahhhhhh! But look, how fun, I wore outfit #1 to work today!
Okay, putting on my mic, goodbye!
Costume Change is a styling newsletter (vs. a shopping newsletter). There’s no spon-con above—any references to clothing/shoes/shops, etc. are purely honest-to-goodness recommendations. As always, I hope that Costume Change first and foremost provides you with inspiration to shop and re-style inside of your own closet. Thanks for reading, and reminder to keep those comments kind!
the pilgrim boots!!!
Yes yes yes yes yes 100000% yes.