Beach-wear to work? In Cannes, we can!

I told my friend I was excited to be going to France for the first time.

“Where in France?” he asked.

“Cannes,” I said. “For the festival.”

“But you said you don’t like French movies!” he said. “Only last week you told me how you heroically resisted your wife’s attempts to take you to an Oscar-winning one.”

“Yes,” I said. “One of my core principles in life is never to watch a movie through sub-titles. If I want to read, I choose a book, not a movie; and if want to watch a movie, I go to the theatre, not the library. But why did you bring up my lack of fondness for French films now?”

“Because you just said you’re spending big bucks to watch the French film festival in Cannes!”

“While it’s true I’m going to Cannes,” I said, “you’re mistaken about everything else. First, the Cannes film festival is not only about French films. Second, while they show movies, their main purpose is to give out awards. Third, they recognize all films, not just French ones. Fourth, I wouldn’t spend money to watch a film awards ceremony. Fifth, I don’t even watch them when they’re shown on television for free. Sixth, the Cannes film festival took place last month.

Seventh, I’m going for the advertising festival. Eighth, I’m not paying for my trip.
Ninth, it’s a business trip: marketing people like me are beginning to join the creative folks at such festivals to imbibe creativity. Wow! You made nine errors in one statement of 16 words — that might be a world record. Well done!”

He did not accept it gracefully. “You over-dramatized the numbers. You indulged in double — and triple— counting. And you…”

“Enough!” I said. “Next you’ll say a strong tail-wind gave me an advantage.”

On the way to Cannes I discovered a gap appearing between my black shoes and their sole. The other footwear I was carrying consisted of a pair of bathroom slippers and my running shoes. I knew that, similar to its human counterpart, a shoe’s mouth doesn’t close once it opens: it opens wider. By the time I reached Cannes on Sunday evening, the sole was flapping like the swing doors between a restaurant and its kitchen.

Not wishing to flap my way into the festival the next day, I set out to buy a pair of shoes on the main boulevard on the beach front. I passed several luxury brand stores (Cannes is full of them), where white, faceless, bald mannequins, dressed in menswear that was more exorbitantly-priced than elegant, beckoned me from the windows. Ignoring them, I found a modest shoe shop and purchased a pair of black office shoes.

The Cannes festival is held in the majestic Palais des Festivals, a large imposing building on the beach. Walking there the next day, I passed hundreds of tourists in beach-wear lounging by the water or eating breakfast at one of the many roadside cafes. But when I entered the building, I felt I was still on the beach.

True, there was no water, or sand, or sun, and the whole place was air-conditioned, but everyone was in beach wear! People drifted around wearing shorts, T-shirts and flip-flops. The ones who were a little more formally dressed wore jeans and sneakers. Except for me and a few security personnel, there was not one man in office shoes in the whole place. I realized that, instead of buying new shoes that made me stand out like an elephant at the North Pole, I could have blended nicely into the scenery wearing my bathroom slippers.

Feeling conspicuous and overdressed, I walked into my first seminar. The main speaker was in shorts and flip-flops too! He introduced his first panellist — similarly dressed — and apologized that the second panellist was delayed because his flight had landed a little late that morning. Watching men dressed for a Sunday picnic deliver an outstanding presentation with slick audio-visual aids was disconcerting. About half an hour into the discussion, the second panellist (yes, same dress code!) walked in, apologizing for the delay and saying he had come straight from the airport.

I had a chance to meet this particular gentleman at cocktails that evening (the Cannes festival is one big party that breaks briefly during the day to accommodate the seminars and workshops).

“Nice speech,” I said. “And good you were able to make it straight from the airport to the seminar. That’s the advantage of this dress code, I guess: you can travel light!”

He looked around to make sure no one was listening and spoke in a low voice.
“Actually I didn’t come straight from the airport. I find it too cold to fly in shorts and T-shirt. I stopped briefly at my hotel to change. And what do you mean — travel light? I carry a huge suitcase of clothes for Cannes. We take dressing very seriously here.”

“Really?” I said and looked him up and down. That’s when I noticed that, while he was still in shorts and T-shirt, they were different to what he had worn in the morning. He had substituted swimming Bermuda’s for a pair of shorts made of blue jeans, tattered and full of holes. He now sported a polo T-shirt, not the collar-less bright red one he had worn in the morning. And he had on leather sandals, which were different from the rubber flip-flops he had worn in the morning (but did not make his bare feet look any more elegant).

“Yes!” he said. “With sessions during the day, cocktails after that, followed by formal dinners on some evenings, I have to bring a huge wardrobe to Cannes. Obviously one can’t repeat how one looks.”

“Even if it is scruffy?” I said, but only to myself.

The author is a freelance writer based in Singapore.