What were you doing at 9 am on January 1? Vladimir Putin was already up. First thing in the morning, the Russian president went to the Vishnevsky military hospital on the outskirts of Moscow. There, he distributed New Year's greetings, visited the facilities, spoke with the doctors on duty, met soldiers wounded at the front, but above all promised to "further intensify" strikes on Ukraine in the coming days, in retaliation for the Ukrainian army's bombardment of the Russian city of Belgorod.
For the occasion, the Russian president opted not for verbal sobriety, but for sartorial restraint. He wore a black suit and a sky-blue shirt with no tie, the result of which was distressingly banal, but at least reminded us of an age-old principle of elegance. For a refined, elegant look that elongates the silhouette, make sure that the shirt sleeve extends about 2 centimeters beyond the jacket sleeve. In other words, the rule in question is completely breached here.
Opposite Putin stood a man in a white coat. Anodyne in a hospital? Yes, but no. In fact, over the last 40 years or so, science has identified what is known as the "white coat syndrome". This refers to the physiological effects that the mere sight of a doctor in a white coat, perceived as stressful, can have on a patient. It can lead to an unusual increase in heart rate and blood pressure. Whether Putin is subject to this remains to be seen. Or if it is the doctors who stress at the sight of the Russian president.
Standing next to Putin and the doctor was Russia's State Secretary and Deputy Defense Minister Nikolai Pankov, wearing a green zip-up jacket and sand-colored T-shirt. Casual? Yes, but this kind of casualness is perfectly legal. In 2012, the Russian military's dress code was modernized to facilitate their freedom of movement and simplify their day-to-day work. Jacket, shirt and tie were replaced by the jacket and T-shirt pictured here.
The world being small, the man behind the Russian army's clothing reform can be seen in this image. Putin? Wrong. Transformed into the icon on a calendar and pinned to a tapestry reminiscent of the splendor of Soviet interior design, Sergei Choigou, Pankov's superior and defense minister for the past 14 years, was indeed behind the clothing reform. This doesn't answer another question raised by this image: On this January 1, is this calendar a 2023 relic or, already, a 2024 novelty?
Translation of an original article published in French on lemonde.fr; the publisher may only be liable for the French version.