These heavy fabrics mirror the crooks’ fine suits. Brossier, "mackintosh and old Tyrolean hat", Vietti, "navy blue pinstripe suit", Van Bever, "herringbone coat, too big for him", Rachman, "suit folded over his right arm, black briefcase in his left hand, looking like a salesman leaving home for a tour of the provinces", Mérovée, wearing "a Sunday suit - those narrow-shouldered suits made by a tailor of the time, called Renoma": "my father", "the look of a defrocked priest".
It is however his nameless young narrators for whom clothing most becomes a wall. “One of those old Canadian shearlings you could find at the flea market"; "his civilian suit - a grey flannel", and a desire to find the right armour: "He would need a coat for winter and, above all, shoes. Yes, shoes with big crepe soles... with crepe soles you can't fear anything or anyone". Modiano's own uniform takes shape: the tall, almost dandy-like young man in the leather coat and silk scarf, black turtleneck and deep V-neck; the well-known writer in the flannel suit and Prince of Wales jacket; the Nobel Prize winner, his knitted polo shirts and his untied scarf.
