Dressed and impressed: a selection of well-known professional dancers from different genres and eras recall the costumes they liked best and what made them great.

PHYLLIS LAMHUT (former Alwin Nikolais and Murray Louis dancer, artistic director of the Phyllis Lamhut Dance Company): Hearts of Palm. The Phyllis Lamhut Dance Company. Choreography: Phyllis Lamhut. Costumes: antique store and Ted Ulmer

Nikolais mostly used appliqued tights or painted tights--we used to stand there while [artist] George Constant painted them. When artists make the costumes, they look great on paper, but they don't always translate to the body. When I started my own company, I swore I would never wear tights. I spent a lot of money on costumes, although a lot of modern dancers don't.

For Hearts of Palm (1976), I found a Ginger Rogers type of dress in an antique shop. It was silk chiffon and had a skirt with 360-degree pleats. There were sequins and rhinestones on the bodice, and it had a V-neck and a very low back. I designed the piece around the dress--it was a spoof of elegant hotel lobby life--then had Ted Ulmer make ten more gowns. The femme in me was saying "Oh, finally--a big skirt with pleats"--maybe I had reverted back to childhood. It made me feel wonderful, sort of nude, and I had big silver dancing shoes.

FREDERIC FRANKLIN (former principal dancer, the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo): The Baron, Gaite Parisienne. The Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo. Choreography: Leonide Massine. Costumes: Comte Etienne de Beaumont

When I joined the Ballet Russe in 1938, the first thing Massine did was Gaite Parisienne. I went to rehearsal and learned all the parts ... because he was testing me. We had what was called a show rehearsal, where people came to watch, and afterward, Massine asked me what part I wanted to do. I told him "Whatever you think I should do," and he said, "All right: The Baron." Massine explained that I was to be a young Austrian officer entering a nightclub for the first time, with dancing ladies and can-can girls.

The costume was a very nice military top, green material with a frog or braid across the front, black wool tights with a red decoration on the side, and nice character shoes. It was a lovely, easy costume. It was not quite the same in the film--it wasn't elaborate enough for Warner Brothers. [Warner Brothers filmed the ballet in 1941, as The Gay Parisian.] I wore it countless times--practically every night between 1938 and 1958. It had to be replaced several times, because it became so worn out with perspiration. It was my first performance with the Ballet Russe--other people did the role, but I became associated with it, and when Danilova started dancing it [the role of the Glove-Seller], it was the beginning of a long partnership.

LINDA-DENISE FISHER-HARRELL (dancer, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater): Cry. Alvin Alley American Dance Theater. Choreographer: Alvin Alley. Costumes: Alvin Ailey

You have to put on the costume when you're learning and rehearsing the piece, because it has so much material, so many panels. I love the way it moves, the way it feels--I feel very comfortable and very confident. The top is a form-fitting cotton leotard, and it's white, which we dancers all hate, because it can make us look like the Sta-Puft Marshmallow Man. But it has long sleeves and is cut low in the back, and the skirt is floor length, with a gusset sewn into it so it doesn't hula-hoop around. Any woman would look elegant in it. Also, the legs are bare; I hate, and have always hated, tights because they feel constricting, but here you can really feel the floor.

It's not a fancy costume, but it helps me do what I have to do. I have to pour so much of myself into it. The character goes through so much--joy, agitation, grief, and the charisma and elegance that go along with that--that the costume is more of a frame to the portrait. It's not too busy--it doesn't distract from the dance. Judy [Judith Jamison, who originated the role] has made it an icon, which is part of the pressure in doing it. When you're first learning it, it's intimidating, but later you say "Where's my skirt?" It's very heavy and it affects how you dance, but it does its own shading. It's beautiful.

MIREILLE HASSENBOEHLER (principal dancer, Houston Ballet): Cleopatra, Cleopatra. Houston Ballet. Choreographer: Ben Stevenson. Costumes: Judanna Lynn

I love the whole pageantry of Cleopatra. When I went to the costume fitting I was like, "Wow! This is fun!" I was like a kid in a candy store. There are six costume changes, with different headpieces for each, and they're all amazing, just beautiful. You get to wear bare legs, too, which is freeing. Some of the headpieces are a little restricting for pirouettes--there are braids which are a bit heavy on your head, and a band around your head with a serpent at the end. Some of the changes are quick, but you have so much help with your costume changes, it's like having handmaidens helping you; it puts you in the frame of mind of the character.

The first costume is a white Romanesque dress--just a drape, really--which you take off immediately to get into the bath. When you get out, there's a green dress with pleats all the way around, a corset on top of that, and all the jewelry. After she's exiled, she gets smuggled back into Egypt in a rug; we call this one the rug dress--it's rust and gold colored, with a bare midriff. When she enters Rome she wears a red dress with pearl nipples and hieroglyphics on the headgear--this costume makes me feel like I'm in Carnaval. The last dress is a white bodice and chiffon skirt with a hieroglyphic design on it.

My favorite is the barge dress, when she falls in love with Marc Antony. It's blue and pink, with a blue chiffon skirt and pearls on it. It's very flowy. You feel not just like a queen but a powerful woman. You think, "This is my land, these are my people--I would do anything for them," and you really feel it.

TERESE CAPUCILLI (dancer, Martha Graham Dance Company, Buglisi/Foreman Dance): Against All Odds (Quand Meme). Buglisi/Foreman Dance. Choreographer: Jacqulyn Buglisi. Costumes: Jacqulyn Buglisi and A. Christina Gianni

It is an eleven-minute solo depicting the grande dame of theater, Sarah Bernhardt. The costume was built closely with the work itself, and brings into the imagination the many different characters from Medea to Phaedra, from Ophelia to Cleopatra, that Sarah Bernhardt depicted through her incredible career. The ballet moves dramatically at a quick pace from one character to the other, and the costume is constructed in such a way that I am able to feel a subtlety of each character as they are revealed through the choreography.

The costume is in three layers: A cape of a dusty-rose velvet jersey, completely lined with silk, is connected with lace applique for the chest and collar pieces and is removed early in the ballet to reveal the underneath dress. The dress is built on a corset of moss green/rose stretch velvet with hand-sewn glass jewels, one sleeve of re-embroidered ribbon lace with silk and velvet ribbon to shape a puffed sleeve, and the other arm bare, with gold jeweled arm and wrist bands. The attached skirt made of silk georgette is also layered around the hips with green and rose embroidered lace to create a bustle effect of the period Bernhardt lived [in], all with a beautiful afterlife through movement. Under all is a body stocking with one leg of lace, interwoven with glittery threads, and the other leg bare, with a gold Egyptian ankle/foot band. I also wear a gold jeweled piece in my hair.

JILLANA (former principal dancer, New York City Ballet): Dewdrop, The Nutcracker. New York City Ballet. Staged by George Balanchine after Petipa. Costumes: Karinska

The old Dewdrop costume was a horsehair tutu, not a long skirt that hung down. It was flesh colored, like a leotard made of netting, boned and covered with pink satin and horsehair trim. It hooked up the back and was in line with my shoulder blades. The headpiece was lots of sparkly things in my hair, rhinestones on wires that I could pull down over my forehead. At the time you could get clip-on rhinestone earrings, and I put those in my hair, too. I loved it--I felt like a princess. There were flowers on the skirt and the bodice, but you could see through it, so I had to put Band-Aids on my breasts. It didn't feel like you were wearing much, but it was very comfortable. I didn't pop out of it like some of my other costumes. I danced it when I was in the corps and as a principal--when Mr. B asked, I told him I'd rather dance Dewdrop than Sugar Plum Fairy, so I got to dance it a lot.

CHARLES ASKEGARD (principal dancer, New York City Ballet): Scotch Symphony. New York City Ballet. Choreographer: George Balanchine. Costumes: Karinska

Scotch Symphony Is one of my favorite ballets--it's got great music. It's kind of a love story, a pas de deux between a Scotsman and a sylph. I wear a fluffy white shirt, a black velvet jacket, and a has a big black feather in it--it's kind of silly, but I like it. There's red-and-black-checkered beret-type hat, although it's not a beret. It has a big black feather in it--it's kind of silly, but I like it. There are black tights and a red sash across the front in Scottish plaid--it has traditional Scottish flair. The jacket's a little hot, but very comfortable. Of course, the costume has to fit properly, and leotards and tights are the most comfortable thing to dance in, but I like how a costume looks and how I feel in it. This costume and the sets make me feel like a highlander--there are hilly slopes with a castle in the background. It's a fairy tale but it ends happily--there's no tragedy involved. I've danced it with Kyra Nichols and for Margaret Tracey's retirement and it's always been a nice time out onstage.

ANITA PACIOTTI (principal character dancer, San Francisco Ballet): Carabosse, The Sleeping Beauty. San Francisco Ballet. Choreography: Helgi Tomasson. Costumes: Jens-Jacob Worsaae

A great costume Is one that helps you create your role--Carabosse is that way. There's a great contrast between acting as evil as you can and looking quite proud and glamorous. There's a cloak, modeled after the cloaks in the Prologue, that you attach at the neck, with snaps down the front. It's a very fine tulle, with fur and gold strips of ribbon and shiny bits that sparkle. It's very comfortable--I call it Cher's peignoir. Carabosse is sort of birdlike--she has blackbird servants--and there are lots of feathers on the headpiece. It's a fun role, and disappearing in a cloud of smoke isn't bad either.

The costume was made for two people: Jim Sohm and me. We wore the same everything except for the leotard, which was fine, although he's much taller than I am, and the cape was hard for me to manage. Between that and the spindle there were challenges. You have to have the spindle concealed in the cloak and take it out with inch-long nails. Fabric is notorious for misbehaving and props have a mind of their own. I'd get the cape tangled or completely wrapped around my feet and almost fall down the stairs. I had my ring fly across the room. When Muriel Maffre danced Carabosse, she threw the spindle down and it stuck in the linoleum.

ANN REINKING (Broadway dancer--Fosse, Pippin, Chicago): Sally Bowles, "Mein Herr" number from Cabaret (in Fosse). Choreography: Bob Fosse. Costumes: Santo Loquasto

I've worked with William Ivey Long, Willa Kim, Pat Birch, Patricia Ziprodt, and Santo Loquasto. They've all worked in dance; they've done theater and plays. They enjoy what people actually wore, or they evoke what people really wore using modern materials and their imagination. It's really hard trying to get the best of both worlds, but Santo is brilliant at it. They have a real interest in fantasy and illusion, and the otherworldly feel of dance, and on top of that, they're all nice. In working with them, I've become interested in what makes a skirt fly out when you dance. I've done restoration plays where everything was real, and now I know why women fainted all the time.

The Sally Bowles costume doesn't duplicate what Liza Minnelli wore in the movie, but it is in keeping with the Weimar era. The costume is just beautiful; it's tasteful and sexy. It looks period but it also dances and breathes--it fulfills the requirements brilliantly.

AMANDA MCKERROW (principal dancer, American Ballet Theatre): Nikiya, La Bayadere. American Ballet Theatre. Staged by Natalie Makarova after Petipa. Costumes: Theoni V. Aldredge

I guess I would have to say the costume from the snake scene in Act I. It's gauzy silk chiffon, harem pants and, in some productions, a bare midriff--maybe someone didn't want us showing our tummies, so ours have netting. There's a long turban with a scarf, and beautiful, intricate beading--I had an I Dream of Jeannie fantasy when I was a kid, so it's great. It's very comfortable, although at one point I do a tour jete to one knee, and I cut up my knee pretty badly the first time because I didn't move the beading out of the way.

It's a very exotic look for a woman: Indian, period, glamorous, fun. The minute you put it on, you feel like the character. She's very passionate and very simple but righteous in her beliefs, and will stand up to any threat to them. She cannot be swayed or bribed or turned away, and I love that and believe in.

YVONNE MARCEAU (co-artistic director, American Ballroom Theater): The Countess, Grand Hotel. Choreography: Tommy Tune, with ballroom sequences by Marceau and Pierre Dulaine. Costumes: Santo Loquasto

I wore two costumes In Grand Hotel, but my favorite was the black one that we did the bolero in. You didn't even know you were wearing it--you didn't have to think about it. It was made out of black polyester that looked very much like silk, floor length, with a kind of cowl neck, cut low to the back with straps fanning out across the back and bugle beading at the hips and collar.

We knew it would be for a late-evening scene, and it was kind of a cross between a nightgown and an evening gown. It wasn't as flashy as the other one--it's the kind of cut that you see a lot--but it was special because it was perfect. We mostly did adagios and lifts, and it was astounding because it didn't get in the way, and I never tripped on it. We did between 1,100 and 1,200 performances--I went through three copies of the dress but the first one was the best. I always felt a foot taller. It was the perfect combination of elegance and simplicity.

BENJAMIN PIERCE (principal dancer, San Francisco Ballet): Night. San Francisco Ballet. Choreographer: Julia Adam. Costumes: Benjamin Pierce

I collaborated with Julia Adam on Night; Matthew Pierce, my brother, did the music, and I designed the sets and costumes. The costumes were engineered by my very good friend Ann Beck--I have a sewing machine, but I don't sew.

The ballet is a dream sequence for a woman, and the costumes are for creatures in her dream. The costumes were a dark blue. The men wore unitards with "gills"--organza ruffles down the side of the leg. The women wore unitards with a half-skirt connected to the lower back that would web out. I wanted to get rid of negative and positive space on the stage--I started by shredding nylon into hairs and gluing the hairs to the unitard. It was awful--it just looked like hair. Then I put organza-like spokes around the leg. The ruffles caught the light, creating a halo or ghosting effect. It worked; a lot of people thought it looked like something that came out of the ocean, and the organic, kind of watery movement went along with that. I knew, dancing onstage, that if I believed in it strongly enough, it would come through. Unfortunately, the costumes were really uncomfortable, because each pleat had to be sewn on separately. I went nuts over this project because I didn't know anything; it was a big experiment, but I loved it and I want to do more of it.

DUNCAN COOPER (principal dancer, Dance Theatre of Harlem): Prodigal Son. Choreographed by George Balanchine. Costumes by Georges Rouault. Sphinx. Choreographed by Glen Tetley. Costumes by Willa Kim

There are two: Prodigal Son and Glen Tetley's Sphinx. In Prodigal I wear the brown leather top with holes in it--I feel comfortable in it, even though I don't particularly like the skirt. Prodigal is one of my favorite roles to dance--you have to prepare physically and mentally, because if you can't act, you lose the audience in the first five minutes. The role came very easily to me--it was the first major role I did after three major knee surgeries, so the story reflected how I felt about coming home, back to dance.

In Sphinx, I play Oedipus--there's a unitard that almost makes him look like he's wearing his skin inside out. It's a golden skin-tone color with blood-red veins. It just sucks to your skin--it's almost like being naked. Unfortunately, I don't have time to enjoy the costume; because the role is so stressful. Glen is a joy to work with, but his work is really challenging. It's like a thick novel more than a comic book. The story is based on La Machine infernale by Jean Cocteau. I go to get the answer to the Sphinx's riddle; I go there to seduce her, but I leave with the riddle, and she dies.

JANIE TAYLOR (soloist, New York City Ballet): La Valse. New York City Ballet. Choreographer: George Balanchine. Costume designer: Karinska

The ballet's about a young girl--she's doomed; she dies at the end. The costume is all white--the top is satiny, and the bottom is a long tulle dress, with long white gloves and white fights and shoes. Later in the ballet I put on a black dress over the top--I wrap it around--and black gloves and a black necklace. The most stressful part is putting the gloves on on time. The white gloves have no fingers, but the black gloves do--there's someone holding the gloves out for you, and you have to put them on in one movement.

At first, when you're all in white, you feel young and innocent; when you put on the black, you feel dating, like you're giving in to something you haven't before. The skirt's long and flowing--when you move, it's big; it moves with you. I think it's really beautiful, and it's fun acting a part. I love the gloves. It's not something you'd ordinarily wear--it's like playing dress-up.

PALOMA HERRERA (principal dancer, American Ballet Theatre): Medora, Le Corsaire. American Ballet Theatre. Staged by Anna-Marie Holmes after Marius Petipa and Konstantin Sergeyev. Costumes: Irina Tibilova

The more you dance, the harder it is to choose--when I do guesting, I wear my own costumes. I like Don Quixote--at ABT we use the white costumes, but when I do it in concert, I wear the red and black. It's nice when the costumes are made for you, because you can add detailing and really make it your own.

The first act of Corsaire is all about technique, but the second act is a love duet with Medora and Conrad--they call it the bedroom pas de deux. I love the music, the lighting, and the dancing. It's beautiful, and you don't see it very often, so it comes as a surprise. The costume is a tunic, like in Romeo and Juliet. It's very light and soft, lilac-colored. It's very comfortable, almost like a leotard, and the headpiece is soft--you can put jewels everywhere and make it your own. Sometimes, even if I love the ballet, the costume isn't very comfortable--it's tight, there are too many bones in the middle, it's stiff, or it has too many jewels and it's heavy. The [Corsaire] tunic makes you feel very free.