When it comes to my choice in television and films, there is nothing I enjoy more than period dramas. This has been true ever since PBS’s Masterpiece Theatre and ABC Family movies (think a cast of 22-year-old CW stars playing 16-year-olds in a two-hour long dramedy, usually in a vacation/camp scenario) were neck in neck for my undivided attention.
Most recently, I’ve been getting my fix from a British series called Downtown Abbey, a romantic romp through the end of Edwardian England led by the noble Crawley family. Aside from inspiring a yearning for a romance with an ideological Irish chauffeur named Branson, the show also has me pining for a time when gloves were as a much a beautiful extravagance as they now are practical.
Today, that formality of dress has been removed from society, and while thankful for the abolishment of the corset, I do still long for an occasion that would warrant an outfit change comparable to that of Lady Mary Crawley’s before dinner. An evening at the ballet seemed the perfect opportunity for just such dress, or so I first thought.
While once you were as likely to spot a Poiret design on one of the dancers pirouetting upon the stage as a theatergoer, today the ballet, much like the opera, has retired from the league of black tie affairs. But it is a muddled retirement, and one that has made for something of a confused intermingling of smart casual and formal dress. By confused, I don’t mean to say that decorum in regards to attire is at a low ebb; this isn’t the case at all, in fact, it’s nice to have an element of classism nipped out of the ballet experience. It’s more that now the ballet exists as an undefined event where dress code is malleable according to one’s own fancy.
Hanging in limbo, the wardrobe dilemma then becomes choosing between feeling uncomfortable for being over-dressed or for being under-dressed. For men, this is a non-issue: a man in a suit can be assumed to have just come from work, or he need only remove his tie and undo a button or two to eliminate a level of formality to his dress. But a woman in a floor length gown, well, there’s not much else to conclude but that she has gotten “dressed” for the ballet. With a ticket to the Ninth International Competition for the Erik Bruhn Prize hosted by the National Ballet of Canada in hand, I was faced with the question of whether I wanted to be “that” girl.
There’s nothing that is more likely to cause me to break out into a swatch of hives than people looking at me. And so, when it came to deciding whether Saturday night’s evening at the ballet — one that is ranked amongst the most important in the ballet world, especially for the young dancers it awards — was to be a neat and pretty scenario or an excuse for a helping of glam-o-rama, I laid out my picnic blanket in the middle and snacked on what I like to call the “Sybil principal,” and hoped that nothing about my appearance would attract glances.
The youngest of the three Crawley sisters, Sybil, nods her head at societal expectations whilst keeping her eyes on goals outside of what her family and ladies who lunch consider proper fields of interests, specifically politics. The family rebel also has a penchant for the controversial harem pant. In essence, the Sybil principal pays respect to tradition while embracing modern modes. And so, in this particular scenario, a successful adaptation of the Sybil principal would be to find a compromise between the red floor length number Julia Roberts wears to the opera in Pretty Woman and a country club sweater set.
I live in the Queen West neighbourhood, and the shops here are my go-to for just about everything – even something like the ballet – which some might think you have to go Eastward to shop for. Queen West is not just about DIY and Japanese denim: boutiques here offer some of the best picks when looking for an outfit that is fit for an event categorized as “formal” without looking business smart or bedazzled.
One of my favourite spots is Charlie. Boutique owner Erin Swan has curated a thoughtful blend of Canadian and international labels ranging from Paris-based label Sessun to Montreal designer Eve Gravel. The latter’s entire spring 2011 collection would have satisfied the Sybil principal on this occasion. Separates with an air of 1920s flair, composed of blouses detailed with feminine cutouts matched with high-waist shorts (that demand a return of lace gloves) and dresses that flirt with a simple highlight of the décolleté; see the collared navy knee-length number with cap sleeves — Lady Sybil herself would covet this one.
The Sybil principal did not falter, I arrived — late to be sure — but outfitted with an inconspicuous hint of ceremony that afforded me a cozy position between the little girls dressed in frilly frocks with ribbons steaming from their curly ponytails and the groups of ladies in sweater dresses and pant suits.
I did miss the gloves though — I would very much like an excuse to wear lace gloves. And perhaps, I might want to spend some time on something called the “Branson principal.”
Toronto-based writer Jennifer Lee is the Editorial Director of FILLER magazine, an online fashion & culture journal. She is also the Co-Editor of Hardly magazine, an arts-centric online teen publication for Canadian girls. Her column, The Dressing Room, appears weekly.