Save the last dance

Through my slightly warped chicken soup and soothers induced haze, I have been excitingly researching a pair of 1930s ballet pointe shoes as part of my university project. There's something exceptionally magical about ballet slippers; call me pretentious, but I wear a pair around the house as ordinary slippers, and not in a heroin chic Winehouse way. The fact that handmade pointe shoes have a unique symbol stamped into the sole to refer to their maker is the thing of fairytales! I'm yet to book a ballet to see this Christmas, I'm a huge fan of Matthew Bourne and have seen his Swan Lake, Edward Scissorhands (twice) and The Nutcracker. Just breathtaking. I believe Bourne's Swan Lake is on this Christmas, and I'd be more than willing to feast on those visual delights again!
Anyway, there's a link of a much more eroticized use of the classic pointe shoes. And may I take this chance to proclaim my love to the dearest Dita! She really is an inspiration, now there's a girl who takes one look and just goes with it, and there's something to be admired about that.