When I was a little girl, I took ballet lessons. I dreamed of Balanchine, of Coppelia, of tulle and tutus. I practiced A LOT. I danced en pointe; my toes bled; my body ached. I pulled on these legwarmers last night around midnight, having just woven in the ends, and felt the urge to “gran ron-de-jaum”, to “jete”, “gran pas-de-sha”; to waltz through the kitchen the way I used to do just before dinner time, forks and knives in my hands. (It was far more fun to set the table while waltzing.)

(Apologies for the dark, grainy picture. The urge to plie struck late last night. This was taken in the mirror.) These legwarmers are looooong. 26″ in length! I thought about binding off many times, but I am glad that I persevered: these are long enough to be scrunched and still reach up to my knees. They are incredibly soft, have a nice depth to the color, and are very warm. The nights are getting colder here, and I decided to wear them to bed last night. I woke up with the sun, about ten minutes before my alarm, with a cold nose and toasty calves.