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You’re probably already familiar with balletcore. Miu Miu, Rodarte, and Maison Margiela are among a few of the houses who have taken direct inspiration from the dance world in their collections over the last few years, producing airy tulle skirts and pointe shoe-esque flats. Sandy Liang’s cult hit Mary-Janes were modeled after American Ballet Theatre principal Isabella Boylston’s pointe shoes; and Boylston herself has a collection with lingerie brand Fleur du Mal. Companies have even cashed in on the obsession themselves, with the New York City Ballet collaborating on capsules with Zara in January 2022 and Reformation in October 2023.
But there is a stark difference between the pink, dainty, aestheticized ideal of ballet versus the pragmatic reality of what professional dancers wear. Watch a video of a ballet class on TikTok or YouTube and find that dancers are in pants that resemble garbage bags, ratty, mismatched leg-warmers, and lots and lots of layers. Clothing in ballet is utilitarian: It serves to help keep their bodies warm and prevent injuries, or, aesthetically, to create an elongated line.
“My go-to attire for class is mostly sporty and heat-retaining,” says Jeraldine Mendoza, lead dancer with the Joffrey Ballet in Chicago. “I’ll usually wear simple and understated leotards with tights, under a baggy shirt, a light puffer vest, and sauna pants. As the class goes on and my body heat rises, I’ll gradually strip each layer of warm-ups.” Cassandra Trenary, a principal at the American Ballet Theatre cites her rehearsal look as occasionally resembling what she calls a “’90s track kid.” “You can usually find me in a thrifted tee or knitwear held at the waist with some pointe shoe elastic, tights and more knitwear on top of that,” she says.
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For some, a traditional balletcore look—black leotard, pink tights, leg-warmers, wrap sweater—remind them of how they dressed as kids. “When fashion brands interpret “dancer style” for street style, it typically looks like the type of stuff little girls wear to ballet class,” says Eva Alt, a New York City-based freelance dancer and choreographer. Trenary agrees. “It’s a little grungier and undone in the studio. I’m constantly cutting up garments to be rehearsal wear,” she says. “Leg warmers might become a scarf half way through our class in the morning. Holes in your tights? Chic! It’s a top now!”
But professional dancers do dress to match the mood of what they’re working on. “[I wear] whatever skirt is most similar to what we are dancing,” explains Scout Forsythe, a corps de ballet member at ABT. “If it’s a tutu ballet I wear a pink and orange ombré tutu. If it’s a romantic ballet I’ll wear a long, ankle-length tulle skirt.”
Some, like Alt, would go so far as to say that clothing directly affects their dancing. “I’ve always been keenly aware of how what I’m wearing to dance affects my dancing itself. Wearing something more bare, or with light colors, makes me feel delicate and beautiful. Biker shorts make me feel very athletic,” she says. “I sometimes change my outfit multiple times throughout class to match whatever quality it is that I seek.”
As for their personal style, the dancers cherish their time outside of their leotards and pointe shoes, each of them having a fondness for particular pieces, from Western boots to heels, and billowy blouses to corsetry. “You won’t see me in ballet flats, that’s for sure,” Forsythe says. “I opt for cowgirl boots or Vans. Boho, farm girl-meets-surfer workout chick is the way I’d describe my style.” Alt says a friend has described her look as a “John Hughes protagonist.”
Trenary also leans away from the balletic archetype while off duty. “I love vintage shopping and so I find myself creating an outfit around my really special finds, like my favorite pair of ’70s patchwork jeans with a huge old button down. The next day I’m in a vintage Issey Miyake tank and a peasant skirt my grandmother made in the ’60s,” she says.
Both Boylston and Mendoza cite movement as a top priority in their street clothes. “I love to make a statement,” Boylston says. “I wear a lot of clothes from younger, local designers like Tae Park, Sandy Liang, and Heavy Manners to name a few. I love anything that is easy to move in.” Mendoza seconds this: “[My style] really doesn’t have one direction. I just know I have to be comfortable, and I have to be chic.”
With balletcore so trendy, there are two schools of thought among the pros: that the aesthetic is a bastardization of what dancers work their entire lives to achieve, or that it is a harmless way to get people involved in the artform. “At first I was super put off by it, rolling my eyes at the idea of something I’ve quite literally put blood, sweat, and tears into becoming a ‘trend’ for people who don’t understand how hard it is,” Forsythe says. “Then I took a step back and truly looked at all the traction it’s gained for the ballet world. Balletcore has offered so much momentum to supporting the community and keeping the youth involved.”
But perhaps it’s the childlike sense of imagination that has won it so many fans. “I love dressing up in costumes and I love that this is really just an extension of that for folks who are inspired by our world and want to enjoy a little piece of it,” Trenary says.
These days, many dancers are thrilled to see people engaging with ballet. But there is one major no-no: “It’s annoying when brands hire non dancers to actually ‘dance’ and try to go on pointe—which takes years of training—when there are so many phenomenal dancers out there that they could work with,” Boylston says. Trenary seconds this, and takes it a step further. She hopes that as fashion continues to profit off of dance, that they will give back in some way. “Hire dancers for your campaigns, presentations, and fashion shows. Buy tickets to the ballet. Support the community and donate to your local ballet school or other dance nonprofit.”
