Breaking the dress code ... Monkey, Journey to the West. Photograph: Marie-Noëlle Robert
The other night I thought I was hallucinating at Covent Garden. And no, it wasn't because of the visually spectacular Monkey: Journey to the West, by Chen Shi-Zheng, Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett. It was because of what had happened to the Royal Opera House.
For a start, seemingly everyone, except for a sprinkling of opera critics, was under 40, and wearing jeans. Needless to say, this is utterly abnormal. Second, the bar staff - usually wearing uniforms akin to 19th-centry footman's livery - were also in jeans and Monkey T-shirts. Third, the bars were selling Walker's crisps, and packets of sandwiches for £2.50 a throw. Regular users will know that what's normally on offer are plates of smoked salmon sandwiches for nearer £10 than £5; and hilarious little bowls of crisps for some insane price (at least £2 if memory serves). But there was even some sort of barbeque on the terrace...
Extraordinary to relate, the £2.50 butties were exactly the same as those provided on the sainted Guardian's very own tea trolley - only cheaper!
Why can't it be like this all the time? It was still grand, opulent and special. But much less idiotically formal. It was almost funky, even. Why do the ROH assume that it's only people coming to see Monkey who might appreciate cheaper snacks and a less gruesomely stiff atmosphere?
The only thing I didn't like was the vast A4 format programme, embossed with a gold Chinese character, instead of the lovely smart little books you can usually get. When I walked in through the door of the office this morning, Les the security guard asked if I was bringing my Chinese takeaway menu with me.
