Pas de deux

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This was published 10 years ago

Pas de deux

By Carli Ratcliff
Swan Lake at St Petersburg's Mikhailovsky Theatre.

Swan Lake at St Petersburg's Mikhailovsky Theatre.Credit: Alamy

Our lunchtime arrival in St Petersburg gets off to a fine start. Having apologised to the cab driver in broken Russian for our lack of language skills (three weeks of Russian classes at university finally proved useful), he turns around red-faced. "Speak RUSSIAN, not Britannia! We are in Russia." Having made his point in perfect English, he speeds towards town at 160km/h.

Thankfully, as well as being a "bun head", aka ballet nerd, my seven-year-old Maggie is also a speed freak, so she finds this both hilarious and exhilarating.

Maggie embraces the evening's excursion to the ballet with the same gusto. "Magnificent!" she gasps as we settle into our seats in our private box (de rigueur in Russia), and sees the auditorium swathed in velvet.

Our entry to the theatre wasn't nearly so glamorous. Running through the streets of St Petersburg to make the 8pm curtain, we arrive at the front doors to find metal screening devices and a security checkpoint. The fear of Chechen rebels storming the building had crossed my mind more than once while navigating the minefield that is buying Russian ballet tickets from Australia, and while filling in some 20 pages of visa forms to grant us entry to the "former Imperial Empire", as locals are fond of calling it.

Thankfully, the paperwork proved worth the effort. As we arrive in our velvet and gilt box for the evening's performance , we have full views of the stage, the orchestra pit, the stalls below, the boxes either side and six rows of boxes above us, which reach all the way to the hand-painted ceiling five storeys above the stage.

Just as in imperial times, when Tsar Alexander III and Tsarina Maria were regular patrons, Russia's elite are out in their finest Tuesday night attire. The anti-fur lobby has made no ground here. Full-length furs abound. So do diamonds, and Swarovski crystals, worn everywhere - tiaras are apparently high fashion in these parts. It's all as theatrical and entertaining as the ballet.

We gain a closer look at intermission. Short dresses and patterned fishnet stockings are the order of the day on women, while men wear snappy slimline suits and parade dress shoes polished to a gloss.

In every foyer, on every floor, bars serve not only champagne and the national tipple of choice, vodka, but also buckets of Russian high society's favourite snack, hand-milked black sturgeon caviar. Smoked salmon on toast is also on offer, along with shortcakes covered in plump raspberries dusted with icing sugar, martini glasses filled with scoops of dark chocolate gelato, towering slices of cinnamon-rich Russian honey cake, and a rainbow of macarons - the snack of choice for well-heeled Russian kids.

Waiters in bow ties deliver our treats as we perch on silk upholstered chairs around a small mahogany dining table.

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The second act proves more fabulous than the first. Maggie leans over nearly three hours in and whispers, "When is it over, mum?"

"In about half an hour," I reply.

"Ohhh no! I don't want it to end!"

Carli Ratcliff stayed in St Petersburg courtesy of the Four Seasons Lion Palace.

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