Andrew Kay is crying

N o need to worry, the crying was brought on by a visit to Glyndebourne to see and hear what must be my favourite opera, La Boheme.

I cried in act one and I cried again in the final scene, dragging, for a second time that evening, the bright vermillion silk square from the breast pocket of my dinner jacket.

Regulation black tie at Glyndbourne these days sees some strange variance. Mr L that evening was wearing a very smart, and expensive, outfit. “Is that German conductor chic or Bond Villain?” I asked. He took my spectacles from my nose and placed them on his. “No it’s power lesbian!” – and he was right.

I tend to stick to trad these days, dollying things up with the bright pocket handkerchief which, as I have already explained, serves a dual purpose. Men I suppose have it fairly easy, the uniform is far less demanding than the choices on offer to the ladies.

But I’m sorry, some of the ladies are definitely letting the side down. While I am sure that the Goretex anorak was ideal in the sad drizzle that blighted our picnics, coupling it with what my mother would call slacks and a knitted top did not cut the mustard.

It was then that I had a brainwave. The cloaked ushers could have a supply of nice pashminas. If they spotted a person inadequately smart they could swoop in and cloak them. Only when the houselights dimmed would their punishment start. A subtle UV light could then pick out, embroidered on each pashmina, the words ‘I failed to reach a suitable sartorial standard and this pashmina is my punishment’. This would be known as the pashmina of shame and once the word spread the offenders would make that little bit of extra effort to dress for the opera.
Anyone who worries that the tone of the evening might be marred by such action should rest assured that minutes into a work like La Boheme any mirth would subside and the appropriate tone would be resumed.

“Crying, well why not, a good cry is the most marvellous release”

I, of course, will stick with my M&S DJ (under £50 and machine washable, ideal for picnic wear) and my rapidly growing collection of rather more exotic ‘kerchiefs. As for the crying, well why not, a good cry is the most marvellous release.

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