Twice this week I encountered identical people dressed the same. Once, on rue du Faubourg St-Antoine, where I saw two redheaded women in their forties, probably twins, wearing the same yellow coats and jeans-hoody combo and the same large sunglasses that elided any possible dissimilarity between them. They looked like something out of a David Lynch film.
Then on Thursday night, cycling through the Marais on my way back from The Knife, I saw two burly, shaven-headed guys, possibly a gay couple, dressed in the same bomber jackets, yellow polo shirt and blue jeans. At what point does dressing casually become dressing up? Or become fancy dress, even?