ribbons

As the song went on, and teenage girls in hair ribbons and lace skirts were projected onscreen, Abrams’ plea for closeness seemed directed more toward them than an unrequited crush.

As a young aspiring ballerina, I was transfixed by ribbons.

I anticipated receiving my ribbons — normally achieved when a dancer reaches Grade 3 in the Royal Academy of Dance syllabus — more than graduating to pointe shoes.

The ribbons were bubblegum pink when brand new, and I stayed up late, carefully dyeing them in a bath of boiling tea until they reached the correct shade to match my slippers and tights, before sewing them on by hand at the perfect, ergonomic angle.

I reveled in the task of learning to tie my ribbons; it felt like an arrival.