Friday, June 25, 2010
Not every little girl dreamt of being a ballet dancer. (Forget Anna Pavlova; I for one was more interested doing an interpretive dance, with scarves, in a Stevie Nicks video clip.)
And yet, there's something about a tulle skirt that makes grown women swoon with nostalgia, whether it be for for their lost inner tutu-wearing child self; for one-time idle Carrie Bradshaw; or for the romance of old Hollywood.
Tulle speaks of more than just pirouetting centre stage; it says: romance, frivolity, drama and daring! It says: one, two, three, look at me! It says Tim Walker muse up a powder caked ladder; Lara Stone playing bored deb; Lily Donaldson as ice queen on the cover of Vogue.
There are, of course, unshakeable non-tulle types. I can't see Julia Gillard in a froth of net. But even women who live in flat boots and skinny jeans and Viktor & Rolf tuxedos can sometimes be persuaded. There are times when only tulle will do.
Posted by Mrs Press at 5:11 PM