I’m left-handed, and when I did wear a watch, it was on the left wrist. The reason was that I could see the time while writing, which was useful during school tests.
I was surprised at the helmet, glove and vest they left behind. The investigators may have had a significant advantage though it’s hard to say if that made it easier to find suspects.
He wasn’t dressed up like a detective. That’s just the way he dresses. People don’t seem to understand this about Parisians.
The look that jolted tens of millions is not a costume whipped up for a museum trip. Pedro began dressing this way less than a year ago, inspired by 20th-century history and black-and-white images of suited statesmen and fictional detectives.
“I like to be chic,” he said. “I go to school like this.”
Isn’t that dressing as a detective? I mean, I think it’s cool, but it’s not exactly everyday streetwear for Paris. At least hasn’t been for a few decades.
I’d bet that’s the reporter’s opinion. Detectives aren’t exactly synonymous with “chic”. If he was seen anywhere but a crime scene nobody would have made that assumption. And, yes, many Parisians are eccentric dressers.
Well, the kid may have been prompted by the interviewer, but in the article he does explicitly connect his style to detectives:
He loves Poirot (“very elegant”), and likes the idea that an unusual crime calls for someone who looks unusual. “When something unusual happens, you don’t imagine a normal detective,” he said. “You imagine someone different.”
I’d say it connects to fictional detectives. Whose unusual style matches the unusual crimes they’re written to solve.
Real detectives, private or government, have no distinctive style. Hard to say that for sure about the e.g. 1900-1940 timeframe, but it’s sure true today.
I was under the impression that male detectives (and spies) from c. 1920-1950 wore a trench coat and fedora to blend in with all the other men for whom that was standard outdoor attire.