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There are objects of everyday life that disappear from our habits on tiptoe, without most people noticing, perhaps because our gestures, often distracted, respond to an increasingly faster routine. Perhaps because time escapes us without giving ourselves too many opportunities to slow down, to grasp the quality of the pause.
Among these objects, a special place has long been held by the coat hanger, that tool that the regionalisms of our language define with many amusing variations: coat hanger, little man, hanger and more. That object, which in the homes of grandparents was sometimes embellished with umbrella stands, walking stick holders, hat boxes (now known to the younger generations for being only the storage room, reduced to a minimum, for hand luggage on scheduled flights), welcomed the guest by making him comfortable. at his ease, in a sort of welcoming ritual that he rarely uses today.
In theaters and concert halls
A ritual that survives where tradition has left a deeper mark: in theatres, concert halls and a few other public places. At home, in private life, every corner has become a good place to store or throw away your overcoat. But this too has transformed. It has become a down jacket, a centogram, a windbreaker. Nothing comparable to the bulk of an old overcoat.
In fashion, bulk certainly has its weight, and therefore requires more or less adequate spaces. However, is or could the decimation of coat hangers only be a consequence of the current prevailing taste for comfort, for “smart” dressing?
I asked myself this recently, half-jokingly, after I was (intelligently) pointed out to the frequent absence of coat hangers in increasingly popular places: bars, restaurants, pizzerias, once places of festive sociality, today safe daily ports for crowds of students, workers or even just tourists, strictly full time.