Lord of the dance: Benjamin Millepied on ballet companies and tabloid intrusions
Small and perfectly formed, with a face-full of designer stubble and the expensive suntan of a man who only recently returned from a Caribbean honeymoon, Benjamin Millepied saunters into his office, grabs a tin of Altoids breath mints and apologises for being slightly late and a little bit frazzled. "My brain," he explains, "it feels a little like, um, fried egg."