deserved. I was waging a considered war on my body, but a far more vicious war on my mind. Bruna was a factor I had to
constantly consider. The blood letting helped, but then I started to live in fear that she might discover that too, and send me away to some asylum.
During practice, my determination manifested itself by refusing to leave the barre until I felt I had got it exactly right. At times I became frustrated with Therese because I felt she was too
gentle, too timid with me. I knew that when I auditioned, at any moment I could be tapped on the shoulder, and have to leave the room instantly. The other girls would know what to be thinking of
second by second, and yet I would not. As I strove to better myself, Bruna’s voice became part of an internal monologue, taunting me. Often it would just laugh, the laugh ringing around my
head for long into the next exercise. But I was damned if I was going to give into it. I watched every morsel that entered my mouth, and I practiced every moment that God sent. My feet sang with
pain at the end of the day when I finally took to my bed. But I didn’t have a choice, I had to escape that life. After a few months, Therese started to tell me that she thought I was doing
well. And what was more, she felt I had a good chance of getting in.
The only way to get an audition at the academy was to send a tape of myself dancing. Of course, I made Therese tape me six or seven times before we finally made one that I felt was good enough.
We eventually sent the tape off and one day after school I had a letter from the Vaganova inviting me to audition with them. My father was delighted, and not a little surprised, and he booked
flights to St Petersburg for Therese and me.
On the flight over, I was barely able to speak. Therese tried to remember exactly what the audition would comprise. I would undertake a usual session at the barre along with all the other
candidates, followed by some centre work. I must not allow myself to be distracted by the other girls, she said, however good they were. Although I had walked through this process in my mind many
times, I had no idea how little mental preparation can replace the education of experience.
St Petersburg was bustling and overwhelming as Therese and I tried to find our way with our little bags. I felt awed by the austere buildings, their windows set high above the ground by stone
pillars. Each seemed imbued with centuries of sacrifice and pain and yet around us young people nonchalantly chewed on fries and snapped one another on cameras.
The Vaganova was just off the manic Nevsky Prospekt, where screened Pepsi adverts sat opposite ancient palaces. It encompassed one long street, which stretched out just behind the compact
majesty of the Pushkin Theatre. The academy filled the buildings on both sides of the street, which were painted in a majestic but slightly queasy shade of yellow. Inside, the halls of the academy
were grand, but disarmingly blank. Despite the glorious chandeliers that hung from the ceilings, the building itself was filled with a curious, expectant silence. As I waited for my audition, I saw
around me mums fussing over their daughters as they waited too. Although I felt fortunate to have Therese at my side, at that point I would have done anything to have had my mother with me. The
academy had an aura that was so overwhelming, but my Mum, I knew, would have somehow made it all seem like an adventure.
Therese told me that the panel look at the physique of the applicants’ parents as well, needing to see that they are slim and athletic, to ensure that their offspring will develop
appropriately. While the mothers corrected their daughters’ hair and drilled them with instructions, Therese looked vacantly at the ceiling, as if she had suddenly regressed to being a child.
I suddenly felt very small, in my cheap Ukrainian gym clothes, and I wondered if Bruna had been right after all.
Therese promised she would
constantly consider. The blood letting helped, but then I started to live in fear that she might discover that too, and send me away to some asylum.
During practice, my determination manifested itself by refusing to leave the barre until I felt I had got it exactly right. At times I became frustrated with Therese because I felt she was too
gentle, too timid with me. I knew that when I auditioned, at any moment I could be tapped on the shoulder, and have to leave the room instantly. The other girls would know what to be thinking of
second by second, and yet I would not. As I strove to better myself, Bruna’s voice became part of an internal monologue, taunting me. Often it would just laugh, the laugh ringing around my
head for long into the next exercise. But I was damned if I was going to give into it. I watched every morsel that entered my mouth, and I practiced every moment that God sent. My feet sang with
pain at the end of the day when I finally took to my bed. But I didn’t have a choice, I had to escape that life. After a few months, Therese started to tell me that she thought I was doing
well. And what was more, she felt I had a good chance of getting in.
The only way to get an audition at the academy was to send a tape of myself dancing. Of course, I made Therese tape me six or seven times before we finally made one that I felt was good enough.
We eventually sent the tape off and one day after school I had a letter from the Vaganova inviting me to audition with them. My father was delighted, and not a little surprised, and he booked
flights to St Petersburg for Therese and me.
On the flight over, I was barely able to speak. Therese tried to remember exactly what the audition would comprise. I would undertake a usual session at the barre along with all the other
candidates, followed by some centre work. I must not allow myself to be distracted by the other girls, she said, however good they were. Although I had walked through this process in my mind many
times, I had no idea how little mental preparation can replace the education of experience.
St Petersburg was bustling and overwhelming as Therese and I tried to find our way with our little bags. I felt awed by the austere buildings, their windows set high above the ground by stone
pillars. Each seemed imbued with centuries of sacrifice and pain and yet around us young people nonchalantly chewed on fries and snapped one another on cameras.
The Vaganova was just off the manic Nevsky Prospekt, where screened Pepsi adverts sat opposite ancient palaces. It encompassed one long street, which stretched out just behind the compact
majesty of the Pushkin Theatre. The academy filled the buildings on both sides of the street, which were painted in a majestic but slightly queasy shade of yellow. Inside, the halls of the academy
were grand, but disarmingly blank. Despite the glorious chandeliers that hung from the ceilings, the building itself was filled with a curious, expectant silence. As I waited for my audition, I saw
around me mums fussing over their daughters as they waited too. Although I felt fortunate to have Therese at my side, at that point I would have done anything to have had my mother with me. The
academy had an aura that was so overwhelming, but my Mum, I knew, would have somehow made it all seem like an adventure.
Therese told me that the panel look at the physique of the applicants’ parents as well, needing to see that they are slim and athletic, to ensure that their offspring will develop
appropriately. While the mothers corrected their daughters’ hair and drilled them with instructions, Therese looked vacantly at the ceiling, as if she had suddenly regressed to being a child.
I suddenly felt very small, in my cheap Ukrainian gym clothes, and I wondered if Bruna had been right after all.
Therese promised she would
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