At first glance, Aurélie Dupont could almost pass for a civilian. She sits on the edge of the couch in her office, slouched over her thighs with forearms resting on her knees.

Having just appeared from the rabbit warren of bureaus, warehouse spaces and rehearsal studios that form a labyrinth beyond the backstage of the Palais Garnier in Paris, Dupont is dressed for direction, not dance, in blue jeans and sneakers, her hair in a messy chignon. In this pose, she discusses being a mother of two, life outside the Paris Opera Ballet and her love of wine: “Of course,” she shrugs. “I’m French.”