The Nutcracker costumes turn 30

This year marks the 30th anniversary of the National Ballet of Canada’s dazzling production of The Nutcracker, which began at the company’s former HQ, St. Lawrence Hall, in 1995. Unlike the paper-thin fast fashion of today, the original costumes, designed by Broadway royalty Santo Loquasto, have managed to withstand three decades of pas de deux (not to mention gallons of sweat) and are still in use today.

Each year, the wardrobe department must work a Christmas miracle in order to keep the costumes clean and dry—and occasionally rebuild them. Head of wardrobe Stacy Dimitropoulos and resident cutter Chris Read are the ones tasked with keeping the iconic costumes sparkling across years of heavy wear and tear. We spoke with them and several National Ballet dancers to get the stories behind the costumes.

The Sugar Plum Fairy

“Last year, we needed to build new Sugar Plum costumes because some were so threadbare we were literally painting them together—using a liquid polymer mixed with paint and glue to keep the fabric flexible while hardening the fibres to prevent them from fraying,” says Dimitropoulos. “We ran into challenges trying to recreate them because, after so much time, we weren’t able to source many of the exact same fabrics and trims. Santo’s team was sending us fabrics from New York, and we had about 10 people involved in dyeing them, painting patterns onto them and creating custom bead work, all so the audience wouldn’t notice a difference.”

“The Sugar Plum Fairy tutu requires a whole system of swing tacks, a wire channel and layers of netting that determine how much the tutu will flutter,” says Read. “The tutu has 19 layers of tulle, so nothing falls flat. Santo likes to think of every detail so that each person in the audience will see something special, no matter where they’re sitting.”

“When I put on the Sugar Plum costume, I feel the character come alive,” says principal dancer Genevieve Penn-Nabity. “The beautiful colours, jewels and wings make me feel like a fairy, and in turn my steps become lighter. My posture improves ever so slightly—a royal stance.”

Related: Behind-the-scenes shots from the National Ballet classic Giselle

The Snow Queen

“The Snow Queen’s tutu references a snowflake cut out of paper,” says Read. “There are fewer layers of net than in the Sugar Plum Fairy’s, so it lays flatter. The mesh turtleneck has glued-on rhinestones that used to fall off onstage, so we added small claws that grasp the rhinestones to keep them more secure. This year, we’re experimenting with separating the mesh bodice from the rest of the costume so it can be thrown in the wash after every performance. Deborah Camken made these crowns so that they can be thrown on the floor and nothing falls off. They have to withstand thousands of hairpins and endless coats of hairspray, which tends to dull the jewels, so it takes some work to restore them to sparkly at the end of every season.”

“The Snow Queen tutu is one of my favourite tutus I’ve worn onstage,” says second soloist Isabella Kinch. “It’s filled with tons of gems and sparkles that catch the light so beautifully.”

The Nutcracker

“In the first act, the dancer briefly wears a molded resin mask made to look like a wooden nutcracker,” says Read. “We make sure the dancer is able to see by using panels of mesh that are painted blue. The experience is almost like looking out a TTC bus window that has an advertisement on the outside—you can still see out, but through little dots. We always say that the costumes aren’t one size fits all. In the old days, there was an ideal waif-y look to a ballerina, but since the ’90s that rigidity has been softening over time. We have someone in the company who is six foot five, so lots of costumes, including the Nutcracker’s, have multiple rows of closures so we can add extra panels to change their length and width.”

“The Nutcracker doesn’t wear the mask for very long, yet it’s a big moment in the show,” says principal dancer Larkin Miller. “We’re often told by coaches that the magic starts building up behind the mask. When the character slowly takes the mask off, it’s very visceral.”

Related: How the filmmakers of Swan Song captured the subtle drama of the National Ballet of Canada

Uncle Nikolai

“All the costumes are shared by the dancers—and most are soaked in sweat by the end of a performance,” says Dimitropoulos. “Because the role of Nikolai is so demanding, there have been runs of the Nutcracker where the first-act coat never dries out. The team will have fans blowing on it backstage to try to dry it between performances, but often it’s still damp when other people have to put it back on. We have a few magical sprays that help disinfect and deodorize the costumes. Vodka cut with rubbing alcohol helps break down the bacteria. Nikolai’s jacket sees a lot of that spray. Around the holidays, I always end up at the LCBO with an armload of vodka, and people must be thinking, I wonder where she’s off to.”

“Imagine running and jumping for 25 minutes in a 20-pound vest that can knock you off your centre—in front of 2,000 people,” says first soloist Donald Thom. “The challenge—and the fun—is knowing that the coat is dancing around you and you’re along for the ride.”

The Bears

“The bears are starting to get a bit mangy,” says Read. “Their frames, which are made from sprung-steel wiring, are starting to collapse. They’re 30-year-old bears, after all, so 2025 will likely be their last season before we have to make new ones. They have a removable inner lining that can be laundered, and the whole suit gets vacuumed out yearly. The costume maker created them out of wire that bends while keeping its original shape, which allows a greater range of motion for the dancer.”

“We can only see through the mouth of the bear, which eliminates all peripheral vision,” says corps de ballet member Keira Sanford. “Like most things in ballet, it’s easier with practice and a good pair of pointe shoes.”

Siblings Misha and Marie

“For Marie and Misha’s winter wear costumes we have two sets: a tall and a short,” says Read. “In some years, the kids have grown so quickly that it feels like you’re fitting a small adult. Some of the other children’s costumes in the show have what feels like a hundred fasteners on the back so that they can change length or width easily.”

“In the ’90s, I was dancing the role of the Nutcracker, and the little boy performing Misha got so hot in the wool hat, long overcoat and scarf that he started crying and yelling, ‘Stop the music!’” says rehearsal director and former principal dancer Rex Harrington. “We quickly realized we had to take some layers out of the costumes.”