San Francisco Ballet’s 2023 Gala: Yes Cinderella, you shall go to the ball
San Francisco is a discordant city with picturesque views, pastel homes and tourist destinations that somehow also floods the eyes with truly basic denim, hoodies, Crocs, Birkenstocks, and Patagonia vests. But occasionally you can find a very fashionable evening, like this year’s opening gala with the San Francisco Ballet, an upscale event that includes hobnobbing with Nancy Pelosi, sipping champagne, knocking back “bumps” of caviar, and getting lost in a sea of taffeta, feathers, tulle, lace; And oh yes, there’s a dance performance, too.
This year marked the group’s 90th anniversary and introduction of Artistic Director Tamara Rojo, a 48-year-old dancer and first woman to hold the position with the SF Ballet. That she’s working alongside Executive Director Danielle St.Germain led the SF Chronicle to deem the SF Ballet in its “girl power” era as one of the rare all-female-led companies in the world. Rojo’s impassioned speech that capped off 11 performances invited the audience to “be bold” and step into the future, letting us know the forthcoming season and likely her longer tenure will mix classic dances with contemporary work.
I want to give you the insider-baseball look on the dance portion of the evening, but know that I come from a suburban bumpkin childhood that never saw a ballet performance save for Ms. Patty’s studio on Gilmore Girls, and that whatever expertise I have in the musical arts is better utilized reviewing symphony and ballroom dancing. For this event, however, I bring to you my love of “Center Stage” and its sequels, “Black Swan,” and an in-person viewing of “The Nutcracker” in Oakland several years back. I also attended the SF Ballet Opening Gala last year and detailed my experiences that night, so this recounting will give a couple compare-and-contrast moments.
Arrivals and opening reception, 5:15 p.m. — 6:30 p.m.
Three others in my group exit an Uber with me onto a fairly quiet gold carpet with gazebos that I’m guessing are in case of rain. It’s cold outside and most early arrivals have already entered the War Memorial Opera House, where an opening reception is happening for high-price ticket holders.
While performance tickets began at $74, many of the fancier nightlife festivities included a dinner beginning at $2,000, and there’s a midrange option I’ll talk about in a bit. Trust that I’m not in the upper wealthy echelon of San Francisco, so I’ve hounded the SF Ballet publicist for access both years I’ve attended. If it’s money you can spare though, $1,600 of the ticket is tax deductible and benefiting the ballet company, and this year, the gala raised about $2.75 million.
The reception eventually opens for general ticket holders, and I like that they experience the same party that includes caviar, hors d’oeuvres and just a huge amount of champagne and sparkling cider. Within 15 minutes though, the lobby packs itself tighter than a gay bar at Pride, claustrophobia wins, and I no longer feel like squishing through a throng of sequins, velvet, and bowtied men in my hoop skirt and corset.
On the periphery of the crowd, I encounter Bip Apollo, a prominent artist that I admit only vaguely knowing because his Instagram verification caught my eye (I’m sorry I’m so Millennial!) when he reached out some time back to commission a garment from me. Decked out in a fuschia suit, Apollo pops up later in the evening to emphatically obsess over my dress.
Just before the performance, we also bump into David Reardon, a self-made designer I met at last year’s gala whose beautifully hand-beaded period pieces always make a statement and draw attention from onlookers and photographers.
Performance, 6:30ish p.m. — 8ish p.m.
Again, ballet knowledge is not my forte, but I immediately recognized an early number from Romeo & Juliet because it was in “Center Stage”! It’s beautifully danced by Dores André and Isaac Hernandez, and classics in fine art are sort of my jam, so this was one of my favorites. Someone in my group turns to me and whispers after Romeo kisses Juliet, “Of course he gets what he wants and then he’s done with her.”
Some world premieres felt more exciting than others. A muscled Aaron Robison in Yuri Possokhov’s “Postscriptum” was, well, a lot to behold. As someone mentioned to me at dinner later, “He could have just stood there and that would have been enough.” (Sorry for ogling, Aaron; Your dancing was also very pretty.)
I had heard some hype over “the one with the clowns” — Danielle Rowe’s “Madcap” — but for me the shining modern number was “Bolero,” a large ensemble dance that featured French composer Maurice Ravel’s composition of the same name. This version choreographed by Yuka Oishi featured a mind-bending 16 dancers moving to the slow, march-like drum of “Bolero” while a swirling animation meant to evoke the universe played behind them.
Oishi explains her inspiration here, saying the music “completed my idea of a constant beating, the idea of growing a cell to the universe’s scale.”
Party time, 8:30 p.m. onward
I loved the performances but freely admit I came for the ball. It’s the second year in a row Nancy Pelosi has attended but I somehow missed her. (Someone tells me: “Did you see her, she’s so little, I had no idea!”)
A huge gaggle of evening frocks squishes its way out of the cold through the doors to City Hall and then past metal detectors, which this time around is equally funny as last year to me because my bodice has 10 steel bones and my skirt is wired with about a hundred LEDs. That’s really okay, though: I tell my friend I can’t brawl in a corseted poofy gown.
A theme tonight is about the past meeting the future, but decorations in City Hall give me pretty old school Great Gatsby vibes — in the best way. The grand staircase is decked out in black-and-white carpet, and mirror ball installations throughout the space give me a disco Christmas ornament effect. Dinner happens all over the main area, upstairs, and an adjacent room where we’re eventually seated at a big mirrored table, and they’ve moved a seat out of the way so I can fit my dress in that spot.
The energy of the party is a little quieter this year, which makes some sense because the rampant post-lockdown glee has worn off a little since the last gala in March 2022. The after party thrown by the Encore group sold out its $450 tickets to subscribers only, and that room has changed since I last attended: a big dance floor has replaced the seating, there’s a live band playing Millennial covers from Taylor Swift and Destiny’s Child, and from what I can tell, no buffet like the one from 2022.
To complain about any part of the night would be “the firstiest of first-world problems,” I told my friend later; The whole party was pitch perfect and I can’t fault it, the vibe was just different from last year. My favorite bit was watching gala chair Betsy Linder — another one who complimented my gown multiple times throughout the night, I have to say — shake it on the dance floor in a beautifully draped white gown and sequin sneakers. I’m jealous: Where did she stash her heels?
This story originally appeared in The Bold Italic here.
Read my recounting of the 2022 SF Ballet gala here.
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