This season, ballet has taken the fashion world by storm. Selkie is not immune.

Perfection, beauty, elegance, misogyny, the Patriarchy, sex work, secrets, and a woman's perseverance come to life in the form of a ballerina captured—in pastels, wax, and clay—by the revolutionary Impressionist artist Degas. This ironic portrayal of beauty and pain, where art imitates life, life imitates art, takes center stage in our next capsule: "Le Petite Danseuse."

The Ballerina is the ultimate symbol of femininity; her elegance and extended limbs inspire but also symbolize—metaphorically and literally—the obscured dark side of femininity, which is pain and endurance.

In his book "Ballet, Photographs of the New York City Ballet," Henry Leutwyler impeccably captures the dichotomy of the prima ballerina. We get a glimpse, through photographs, at the athleticism and dedication that it takes for this breathtaking art form to exist, and these stories captivate artists. Like Degas, Henry showcases the full picture, the behind-the-scenes arduous and demanding efforts required of the prettily packaged ballerina. There are hundreds of documentaries, countless fiction films, and heaps of books dedicated to this particular art form, all of these artists and authors enraptured by the duality of the dance.

For myself, it is a woman's hidden duality that fascinates me. I have, since childhood, understood that my duty in this world, first and foremost, is to be desired. At age twelve, I saw Tracy Emin's "My Bed," and it continues to inspire me in nearly everything I do. I became completely enraptured by its message: that I could be disgusting and it was normal. We are taught the way we present our hair, face, body, speech is to be filtered and perfected until it is palatable enough for consumption. I have often felt like my human animal flesh was broken in by society and by the men I've encountered, like a horse ridden hard in its youth and then brought out to pasture. These analogies are not new. In my 40s, it has become all the more clear—even in 2025—we are expected to perform differently than men, to hide any trace of impropriety, to act with grace and smallness if we want to be respected.

The Impressionists would change art forever. Society was disturbed by Degas' comfort in showcasing hard truths and disparities, but especially in improper poses, unideal body types, and, of course, his allusion to sex work. Ironically, Degas himself was a man and therefore a participant in this patriarchal, chauvinistic world. But he was fascinated enough to paint that perspective as he saw it. These gorgeous artworks have garnered worldwide adoration ever since—especially for his ballerinas.

Degas struggled with vision since he was a teenager but began to lose his eyesight significantly at 36 years old—the primary reason he turned to sculpture as a new artistic medium. "He debuted his figure of teenage ballerina Marie van Goethem in 1881. Critics were shocked by the three-foot sculpture. They called it ugly and repulsive. Degas had never publicly exhibited a sculpture before. And he never would again. Little Dancer of 14 years old (La Petite Danseuse de quatorze ans). He modeled her as he saw her. Skinny legs and arms. A rounded belly. Broad face. Jutting chin. One critic called the sculpture 'simply hideous.' Finally, there was the subject—a young student dancer at the Paris Opéra Ballet. Ballerinas in 19th-century Paris were not considered glamorous or elegant. Most came from working-class backgrounds. (Van Goethem was the daughter of a tailor and a laundress.) And wealthy men with paid Opéra subscriptions that allowed them to go backstage preyed on the young dancers, who were disparagingly called 'the opera rats.' As in his paintings, Degas captured the dark undercurrent of the glittering ballets." —The National Gallery of Art.

Degas consistently reminds us of the darkness and ominous weight that comes with being a woman. Black suits, shiny shoes, canes, and top hats linger at the borders of the paintings, and indeed our lives! Intense brushstrokes and vibrant colors depicting a man's legs beneath stage curtains create visual tension against the shining strength of the prima ballerina in the spotlight. These are the girls' patrons, and in order to live their dreams, they must sacrifice their bodies in every imaginable way. It is a reminder of women's history, of what has changed, and most importantly—what has not. These stories, like the folklore of the brand, are the foundation and values of Selkie.

I am honored to present this collection with our extraordinarily talented muses: two ballerinas from the American Ballet Theatre—Principal superstar Isabella Boylston and gifted newcomer Madison Brown. Watching these women move on set brought my entire team to tears and will remain one of the greatest experiences of my career.

Our March art capsule leaps from the zeitgeist like a swan from water and, as all meaningful art should, will certainly have people talking.