A few months back, dance historian Jennifer Homans was making the rounds of all NPR-like media outlets promoting her impressive history of ballet, Apollo's Angels http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/28/books/review/Bentley-t.html. For several weeks, the book was everywhere. I caught one of the radio interviews in which I learned that the greatest and most influential ballerina of all time was Marie Taglioni, a dancer of the mid-nineteenth century whose career was primarily with the Paris Opera Ballet. Her most important contribution was the refinement of en pointe dancing for women (men were the pioneers of the style). Wikipedia reports that in 1842, "at the height of the cult of the ballerina, a pair of her pointe shoes were sold for two hundred rubles, reportedly to be cooked, served with a sauce and eaten by a group of balletomanes." (Ever seen the term "balletomane" before? Me neither.)
In the interview, Homans mentioned that a pair of Taglioni's shoes are available for viewing in the library of the Paris Opera (chapter 4, footnote 5). As soon as those words were uttered, I knew I had to see those shoes. I knew I must make a pilgrimage to the opera's library. Here are my reasons.
For a couple of years, I was a community columnist for the Fort Worth Star Telegram. Writers from the community submitted sample columns and thirteen of us were chosen to write a column once a quarter. My first column, and I believe one of my best, was about my ballet teacher, Lillian Zoll, who was persuaded by a group of Jewish patrons of the arts to come to the Missouri Ozarks and teach ballet in the 1950s.
Honestly, I know very little about ballet. (I took lessons from ages three to seven. I don't remember all that much.) I've only been to a few performances in my entire life. And yet I regard ballet as the quintessential art form. If Rome is the Holy City of Roman Catholicism, then Paris is the holy city of ballet, and Marie Taglioni's point shoes are worthy objects of adoration. I want to see them on my next trip to Paris (probably in the fall).
So I'm going to contact the Bibliotheque de l'Opera de Paris and see if the shoes are permanently on view or if I have to make a special request to see them. I'll let you know what I find out. Wish me "Bonne Chance!"
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