Anna Pavlova’s ‘Swan’ tutu is undoubtedly one of the most iconic ballet costumes of all time and is inseparably connected to the image of the ballerina. As I arrived at London Museum on a chilly morning in November 2021, Anna Pavlova’s ‘Swan’ tutu was waiting for me.

“I feel my hands touching Pavlova’s tutu for the first time. Carefully lifting its fragile layers, I hold my breath...”

The museum has a number of ballet costumes worn by the prima ballerina, but it was this particular tutu that had captured my imagination as part of my research into historical tutus and costume-making.

Beautiful and majestic, she stood in the quiet room. Peaceful and still, and yet, bursting with stories within its folds: those of the ballerina who danced in it over a hundred years ago, and stories of her tutu maker Madame Manya who’d spent hours creating this renowned costume.

Impossible to resist, I feel my hands touching Pavlova’s tutu for the first time. Carefully lifting its fragile layers, I hold my breath as the tutu starts telling its story.

Anna Pavlova and the Swan costume

A black-and-white photograph of a ballerina in a tutu and pointe shoes posing elegantly on one leg on stage.

Anna Pavolova in and as The Dying Swan.

Anna Pavlova, one of the most celebrated ballerinas of the early 20th century, played a pivotal role in popularising ballet – and the tutu – in the UK. Born in Russia, she moved to London in 1912.

Pavlova is possibly best known for her role as ‘The Dying Swan’, choreographed by Mikhail Fokine, which she first danced in 1907. Her name became synonymous with the solo piece she performed for 24 years wearing numerous interpretations of the ‘Swan’ tutu. However, only three of those are known to have survived.

If we want to know where to position the London Museum ‘Swan’ tutu in the timeline of historical tutus we need to go back a few hundred years.

A brief history of tutus

A woman in an elaborate blue and white floral dress with a corset poses, holding her skirt out to the sides. The text below reads "Paysanne Galante.

A 1779 print titled ‘Galant Peasant’. This costume is used in the Ballet de la Provencale, and in other ballets of the same type.

While the history of ballet traces back to the Italian Renaissance (roughly the 14th to the 16th centuries), it was France that had a major influence on developing classical ballet as we know it today. The name ‘tutu’ allegedly comes from the French ‘cucu’ meaning bottom. However, early ballet costumes hardly differed from formal court dress and were often highly impractical, especially for women.

It was only in the second half of the 18th century that the dancer’s flexibility and freedom of movement became increasingly important and began to impact the design of costumes, and its evolution was closely tied to developments in Britain.

Two women in 19th-century european dresses, showcasing detailed gowns with ornate hats, depicted in a vintage fashion illustration.

An example of formal dresses that show how the early romantic tutu was similar to the fashion of the time.

Tutus and the Industrial Revolution

Marie Taglioni’s costume in ‘La Sylphide’ marks the birth of the ‘romantic tutu’ in the 1830s. It was a version of what was fashionable at the time. Her costume, designed by Eugene Lami, consisted of a bodice and a light, floaty skirt that would soon become the ballerina’s iconic costume.

Many of those early tutus have been beautifully documented by French painter Edgar Degas, a master at capturing the magic of the tutu in his unique style.

The invention of the sewing machine as part of the Industrial Revolution in the 18th and 19th centuries and the development of new kinds of textiles heavily influenced the appearance of the tutu. Tarlatan, which had been the main fabric for tutus until the early 20th century, gradually disappeared and was replaced by cotton, silk, and most importantly, nylon tulle (mostly produced in British factories), which highly increased durability and became the foundation of the tutu’s iconic look.

“What appears so light and ethereal on stage is, on closer inspection, an object of detailed engineering”

These materials, layered and stiffened with starch, allowed dancers to appear as if floating on stage, a quality enhanced by advances in stage lighting, such as the introduction of gaslight in the early 19th century.

What had evolved by the end of the 19th century was a short and stiff tutu skirt that resembles the classical tutu today.

The evolution of tutus from 1832 onwards

The complexity of a modern-day tutu

While one can still see the Marie Taglioni-style ‘romantic tutus’, the classical tutu, also known as pancake tutu, seems to be more popular today. It’s shorter and flat – almost disc-like – revealing more of the dancer’s legs, highlighting intricate footwork and athleticism.

I’ve made tutus for renowned ballet companies for over 15 years, and I’m still intrigued by the knowledge and dexterity required to create these pieces of art. What appears so light and ethereal on stage is, on closer inspection, an object of detailed engineering.

The classical tutu usually consists of a skirt, made up of around 50 metres of pleated layers of net, knickers that provide decency and hold the tutu in place, a yoke that’s tightly fitted to the dancer's waist and a bodice.

Deconstructing Anna Pavlova’s Swan costume

The Swan tutu held by London Museum holds a unique place on this timeline of tutus. It’s at the turning point of the classical tutu developing its unique shape. The Swan shows all the characteristic tutu components that make up a modern tutu, however, the techniques used are reminiscent of the early 20th century.

My study of historical tutus strongly suggests that the ‘Swan’ tutu can be seen as an ancestor of British tutu-making techniques. Especially, as we know that tutus made by Pavlova’s tutu maker Madame Manya in early 20th-century London later became a template for other tutu makers.

“It can take an experienced maker between 30 and 40 hours to make the tutu skirt alone”

Much of the tutu’s complexity lies in the many layers making up the skirt, yoke and knickers. The skirt’s main material is tarlatan, an open weave, often heavily starched, cotton fabric predating the invention of synthetic nets. All the skirt layers are handsewn, unlike modern machine stitching and speak of many hours of laborious work.

Depending on the specific techniques, it can take an experienced maker between 30 and 40 hours to make the tutu skirt alone.

Conservator Emily Austin’s blog on conserving this feathered tutu takes us through the arduous process of cleaning and conserving this iconic costume.

Having reconstructed two ‘Swan’ tutu skirts using historically accurate materials and techniques as part of my research, I have felt this strain on my own hands, pushing a needle through thick layers of fabric over and over again.

There’s so much more that could be said about some of the making secrets discovered during my research, but that’s for another time.

Kathy Kincel is a costume maker, researcher and owner of Kathy Kincel Costumes. She previously worked in-house for the Royal Ballet and Opera in London, and the Stuttgart Ballet in Germany. Between 2020 and 2022 she did her Master of Research with the Arts University Bournemouth on historical tutu-making techniques.