A winter Sunday evening.
It's not the crowd of great days at the musical Seine where Benjamin Grosvenor comes to perform Prokofiev's
Piano Concerto No. 3
.
Sitting at the top of the floor, I enjoy observing the clothes, as a spectator interested in the evolution of his art.
An elegant lady settles in, all dressed in cream tones.
Her husband, in jeans and a sweater, looks quite pale next to her.
A doubt assails me and I then carefully scrutinize the assistance.
Two jackets.
OF THEM!
An old gentleman in tweed, and a young man in a navy suit.
Myself, I did not wear a jacket, but a cardigan.
Concerned about the musicians and the circumstances, a tie completed my outfit.
A silky accessory probably also (very) rare in the room.
This disappearance of the jacket is only an observation, it is up to everyone to qualify it.
It is possible to be offended by such a lack of formalism.
And even to be outraged by certain frankly scruffy or inopportune bets.
I even saw a man...
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