So close to showtime, I was all ears. “Madame, what do you have in mind?”
Five minutes later, we were both seated at her seamstress table, each of us frantically coloring my pink pointe shoes with king-size red Sharpies like preschoolers doing an arts and crafts project.
“Eet eez working!” beamed Madame as any trace of pink rapidly disappeared. Within ten minutes, a pair of bright red pointe shoes graced the table.
“What about the ribbons?” I asked Madame.
Smiling, she slid open a draw beneath the table and then held up a pair of long red satin ribbons. “Voilà! Ma chérie, you stretch while I sew them on.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was loosened up and in the red pointe shoes.
“Come, ma chérie. The industrious woman smiled again. “We have one final thing to do.”
Following her to the full-length mirror, I stood as still as a statue as she put on my magnificent headpiece. A gold sequined band with layers of spiky red tulle and gold-dipped feathers. Motionless, I stood before the mirror in a state of shock.
I was The Firebird.
And I was ready to dance.