My favorite fairy tale? Hands down, it’s “The Twelve Dancing Princesses.” Why? The princesses would dress up every night and disappear though a secret tunnel to dance the night away with handsome princes. They would return the next morning, their shoes worn out from dancing. I loved that story, partly because of the new shoes they got every day, but I also liked the part about getting dolled up like that every night, sneaking out, and not getting caught.
I have two beautifully illustrated versions of this story. It’s almost a TL;DR kind of tale. Lots of build-up that ends, predictably, with a wedding. But it’s a fairy tale, so it has to end happily ever after.
But for me, it was always about the shoes. And the dancing.
As a young kid I’m sure when The Emperor’s New Clothes was read to me I was delighted by a boy much wiser than the grownups, and unafraid to laugh at the foolish and naked ruler.
And later when I was older and read the tale myself I surely appreciated the clever satire, the pomposity and the egotism of the emperor, and the deviousness and the cowardice of his sycophants.
But now as a grownup in Trumpworld, Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale seems to have lost its innocence and some of its charm.
My favorite fairy tale? Hands down, it’s “The Twelve Dancing Princesses.” Why? The princesses would dress up every night and disappear though a secret tunnel to dance the night away with handsome princes. They would return the next morning, their shoes worn out from dancing. I loved that story, partly because of the new shoes they got every day, but I also liked the part about getting dolled up like that every night, sneaking out, and not getting caught.
I have two beautifully illustrated versions of this story. It’s almost a TL;DR kind of tale. Lots of build-up that ends, predictably, with a wedding. But it’s a fairy tale, so it has to end happily ever after.
