I have always been intrigued by the idea of dancing ballet, and though I never took more than a lesson or two, I do have some pretty strong ties to the barre. First, my sisters all studied this most exquisite and physically challenging art form. And second, once upon a time an artist, who came on good authority, said I bore a striking resemblance to Misty Copeland. I don’t see it, but I’ll take the compliment. Perhaps it was my inner fantasy life bubbling to the surface. She began her dance career at the practically geriatric (by dance standards) age of 13; could I, a fully formed adult, still live a version of the dream? My first jete toward this would-be version of myself? Classes at Ballet Bodies! (If it’s good enough for Rosie Huntington-Whiteley…) Ok, so far I’m doing more pilates and fewer plies, but I’m easing myself in. This Ryan Roberts dress conjures images of ballet leotards; it also feels like something I might wear when performing in Alvin Ailey’s Revelations. Or I could just wear it to lunch or dinner, tbd. In the immortal words of Melania Trump, wait, no, that would be Michelle Obama, “The only limit to the height of your achievements is the reach of your dreams and your willingness to work for them.” Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.