Dance and Costumes. Elna Matamoros

to keep her body weight closer on the metatarsals, far from the heels, which in a way would facilitate her quick raising sur la demi-pointe. A poorly trained body, or one not accustomed to standing on this heel, however, increased the risk of a sudden fall backwards, of even losing balance completely. What could be truly uncomfortable in street movements, presented some advantages to the dancer, something that both the performers and the ballet masters would know how to use.

      La Camargo’s shoes, light in colour and closed by a beautiful red ribbon –in all the three paintings of her–, also have red heels; a detail that may go unnoticed but it is revealing due to its singularity if we think that it was a very rare feature at the time to chromatically separate the different parts of the footwear. In general, shoes used to be discreetly coloured, and only light or bright shades were used for special occasions and eye-catching dresses.⁵⁵ This would undoubtedly be what La Camargo was looking for: her feet to stand out when she performed on stage. On the other hand, as Linda O’Keeffe points out, “red heels, a symbol of social prestige in 17^th and 18^th century Europe, were worn only by the privileged classes.”⁵⁶ La Camargo, in addition, imposed her own style to the fashion of the moment, to the extent that, for the accessories and complements with its characteristics, the expression “à la Camargo”⁵⁷ was coined.⁵⁸

      Although in Lancret’s painting at the National Gallery in Washington, the dancer appears dancing with an unknown couple –at least their names have not reached us– and surrounded by a bucolic country landscape, it is surely a recreation of some of her scenic performances decorated by the pastoral settings that the painter used in most of his works. We find a whole theatrical staging perfectly studied to showcase the main artistic virtues of our dancer, and the choreographer –if not she herself– would take full advantage of it.

      It is tempting to compare this image of La Camargo with a later one of Mademoiselle Anne Auretti.⁵⁹ Anne Auretti danced in London between 1742 (Covent Garden) and 1765 (King’s Theatre),⁶⁰ often accompanied by her sister Janneton. There is a print by Gérard Scotin, estimated to have been made approximately during these years, just a few decades later than Lancret’s La Camargo.

      When comparing them, several things surprise us: the first and most important is that both dancers are portrayed in almost identical postures; it can almost be said that Auretti has imitated La Camargo in gesture, grace and even in clothing, bearing in mind that her portrait is later: the cut of the dress, the lower folds of the overskirt, the length of the pannier and the design of the sleeves are similar. Scotin has shaded the lower part of the dress, exactly under the gathered layers of the skirt, which makes us understand that the dancer wears a full dress, although slightly shorter than the inner petticoat, and thus reveals the fabric and adornments similar to those of the dress that covers it. The pannier, considerably larger than that of La Camargo, also shows the evolution of the fashion of the time, in which the volumes of women’s dresses were laterally enlarged, making it very difficult for women to move around even in their daily routines. We can suppose that in dancing, it would be so much more so, and that dancing as a couple would become quite complicated.

      But apart from the size of the pannier, between the portrait of La Camargo and that of Mlle Auretti there are two other obvious differences, when it comes to the wardrobe. One is the design of the neckline of Auretti, much more open and daring⁶¹ as we will see in the prints; the other important difference can be seen when comparing the shoes of both dancers. Auretti’s heel is considerably shorter, would probably not reach 4cm in height, and the front of the shoe is lower, and is adorned with a buckle.

      The fact that in a few decades the size of the pannier in dancers’ dresses –and with it the total weight of the dress– had increased, and the lowering of the necklines, could indicate that most of the jumped steps would have been removed from the choreographies. Perhaps we could consider this as a relapse in the technical gender equality on stage. To the contrary, however, the lowering of the heels and the front of the shoes would have facilitated the raising on demi pointe, since it would have also facilitated the flexion of the metatarsals. Although it is true that a lower heel requires more muscular strength and physical preparation to ascend to the relevé⁶² than a high heel –in which the body weight, as said before, is placed closer to the toes–, we should consider that it also facilitates the flexion of the knee needed to achieve a relevé. We can assume that the dances performed by Mlle Auretti had less proportion of jumping steps than La Camargo’s, but more rising sur la demi pointe and steps performed on her toes. Likewise, the fact that the pannier had enlarged, particularly towards the sides of the body, would prevent the dancer from lifting her legs behind the body –in the sagittal plane– because the legs would collide with the internal structure of the pannier. And so it is, at least in the images we have from both dancers: while La Camargo clearly shows a small arabesque, Auretti performs the movement of her left leg in front of her body; the eloquence of both images is unequivocal.

      2.6 - Mademoiselle Auretti. Print by Louis Gérard Scotin, around 1745-55.

      The sleeves of Anne Auretti’s dress are similar to those seen in Lancret’s paintings of La Camargo –rococo triple sleeve–, and their torsos are placed in similar positions in both images; the hands are shown in an apparently relaxed and slightly curved position favoured by the design itself of the sleeve, as if the costume suggested the hands to be less important than the rest of the arm. Auretti’s head, with her hair carefully untidy at the back of her neck, holds an upright position, emphasised by the choker necklace. Moreover, the position of her head highlights the attitude of the dancer, who looks directly at the viewer, as if challenging him, with a light smile that can barely be interpreted from the social perspective of our days… Is she flirting, seducing, or simply showing her charms and the joy of her dancing? However, La Camargo seems to be isolated from the viewer; she is dancing only for her partner and for their own surroundings. Both these dancers are reflecting the importance achieved by the light coloured costumes of the couple that seem to attract the light of the country scene. It is difficult to prove –we will have to leave it as a hypothesis– if it was the artistic choice of the painters by picturing their costumes in pastel tones –light blue, peach, silver grey, pink, light green– that undoubtedly emphasized their charms. The paintings of Watteau, Boucher or Lancret himself, seem to say that the pomposity of the bronze colours of the beginning of the baroque had been banished from dance.⁶³ Now the tendency is on lightness, perhaps even frivolity, before the warm gas light of Romanticism reached the stage.

      The decades that preceded Romanticism were of decisive importance in the subsequent development of stage dancing; the end of the Baroque and Rococo were times when dancers and choreographers were constantly experimenting with the novelties that the ever-changing costumes brought. However, Marie Sallé –La Camargo’s rival– would go one step further in terms of the costumes she wore, and consequently, the way the dancers after her will move on stage.

      Marie Sallé (1707-1756) shared decades of success with La Camargo, although it is very likely that they never met together on the same stage. Not only because Sallé spent almost her entire career in London –the two dancers only coincided in Paris in 1727, and for a short time⁶⁴– but also because their ways of understanding and interpreting dance were very different from each other, mostly in the visual and plastic sense of their performances. Marie Sallé, a kind of Isadora Duncan⁶⁵ of the 18^th century, had the audacity to appear on stage without wearing pannier, corset or wig… and we don’t really know what her real attire was, since she apparently only wore a light robe of muslin rolled up around her body as if it were a Greek tunic.⁶⁶ The presence of a woman whose body was glimpsed through the subtle layers of gauze had no erotic interpretation, quite the contrary: her clothing was intended to appear as a symbol to free the dancers from unnecessary props, which neither facilitated their movement, nor adequately characterized them for the characters they played, who were often masqueraded according to the fashion of the moment. It does seem evident however, that Sallé was the earthly counterpoint to the mystical Camargo, as would later happen with the pairing of dancers Fanny Elssler, the pagan, and Maria