TutuToday

William Ivey Long has long been an established costume designer but recently he focused on dance and the New York City Ballet.

To quote the New York Times:

Long crafts tutus—the best since Karinska—in a panoply of styles. Pancake, powderpuff, waltz length, with bodices of all kinds. Long, short, extended, elaborated. Just for openers—that is, the opening razzmatazz of The Blue Necklace, he designed black spangled tutus accessorized with mesh tights and black slippers—the Guys and Dolls Kit Kat Girls as Black Swans. This is not surprising from a man who, for Crazy for You, conceived a character as Serge Diagaliev, including his hair.

Then Long makes dresses. He makes cocktail dresses that move—Karinska meets Dior’s new look. He makes a diva wrap to-die-for, with a white fur collar over chiffon. For Kyra Nichols as a wicked step-mother, he makes a real Anthony Tudor outfit, so that she looks like Lizzie Bordon grown up, in a grey organdy apron over a silk paisley dress under a lace shrug that alludes to a cardigan. For a formal party, he puts her in a grim yet chic splendor—Carabosse meets Mrs. Danvers. It’s no accident that she looks beautiful, if nasty.

Everyone in fact looks beautiful, including Damien Woetzel in ivory and cream formal wear or white tie. The little girls in grey sailor suits. Even the two nuns who make an appearance–how can you possible do black and white without nuns?—are ineffably soigné. One sleek tootsie in diaphanous black reminds us that Long did Chicago, not to mention Cabaret. Indeed the whole black and white scheme is reminiscent of his work for Nine, though here the stark contrast gives way to gradations and permutations–the whole world in grayscale.

"Working with Balanchine was like having a wonderful suit made to measure just for you," Edward Villella once told me. "With Robbins it was like getting a suit off the rack."

From the movie concept, Long derives his first theme: his palette. In the first act—which is more or less a melodrama—black, white, and grey, from the most saturated, inky black to stark white. In the second act, enter beige, from the muted ivory to dullest gold. The costumes still “read” as black and white, but warmer, as befits a comedy.

The costumes look the way black and white movies look.

Texture is important in movie clothes, providing contrast, and shading.

Billy Long used a multitude of textiles, with fabric on fabric, pattern on pattern, meticulous under layering, and overlaying to achiefe the black and white effects.

Long employed ballet fashion.

Long has been known for his wedding attire at least since 1975, when he made a marvelous gown for Meryl Streep for a production at the Yale Repertory Theatre. No girl who saw it didn’t want William Ivey to make her wedding dress one day. Here there are marvelous souffle dresses, lace dresses, handkerchief hemmed dresses, ruffled dresses, net dresses—a veritable ballet blanc, hell bent on reaching the altar. It’s a shame that Stroman ramps up the antics here until they become schtick, because the brides rushing about in wonderful profusion are more than enough. At the end, they give way to the bride of the hero’s heart: Alexandra Ansanelli, in a refined silver gilt and lace tutu that makes everyone else on stage look frumpy. This is Cinderella all over again, but instead of the girl with the best shoes getting the prince, the hero gets the girl with the best taste, and the most divine little boleros.

The scope of William Ivey Long’s designs required specialization. (You don’t go to a tailor for a dress, to a cutter for draping, or to a haberdasher for embroidery.) Thus the costumes were executed by eight shops: New York City Ballet Costume Shop, Barbara Matera Ltd., Tricorne, Inc., Euro CO. Costumes, Carelli Costumes, Jennifer Love, Timberlake Studios, and JenKing. The millinery—the chicest hats since Tanaquil LeClerq’s in Western Symphony—is by three shops: NYCB’s, Carelli, and Rodney Gordon. It was worth it. One can imagine the show with different steps, but not with different outfits. When you go see Double Feature, sit as close as possible. From the tenth row, I felt the same thrill I used to feel at the ballet when I was a little girl. I wanted to be the ballerina, so I could wear her clothes.

Photos (all by Paul Kolnik):
First: Makin' Whoopee; Tom Gold and members of the New York City Ballet.
Second: Ashley Bouder and Damian Woetzel in The Blue Necklace.
Third: Maria Kowroski and friends in The Blue Necklace.
Fourth: Albert Evans, Seth Orza and Tom Gold in Makin' Whoopee.
Fifth:  Maria Kowroski and Ashley Bouder in The Blue Necklace.

Thank you for visiting my website.

Please contact me should you have any questions.

Lee Ann Torrans
ltorrans@gmail.com

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