Friendly reminder to stop attacking people who headcanon Les Amis as queer and don’t like when they are portrayed as straight. Please let us have at least this one thing.
Enjolras – Made a group chat purely to bitch about Rousseau. Frequently refers to him as ‘That Punk Ass Bitch’
Courferyac – Spent forty minutes applying body glitter to go to a Eurovision watch party
Combeferre – Added footnotes and academic citations to his protest placard
Grantaire – Roamed the city covered head to toe in red paint. Had a photo shoot like this in front of the landmarks purely to confuse the tourists
Bousset – Missed out on Halloween because he fell asleep at 7pm after eating too much pot noodle
Joly – Keeps a box of human bones in his room to study, and failed to mention this until I’d used it as a chair all evening
Bahorel – Had a light saber battle in the post room, complete with cloaks and Duel of the Fates blasting from his phone. Made lifelong enemies with the porters in the process
Feuilly – Becomes 300% more sassy when he puts a certain pair of sunglasses on. No one is quite sure why, least of all him.
Jehan – Only owns one suit and it’s made of bright purple silk
Marius – Turned up to a supervision in exactly the same outfit as their supervisor (of the opposite gender) Neither of them mentioned it for the whole hour. Hasn’t worn that shirt or jacket since, just in case
Bonus:
Cosette – Broke into three separate colleges just to leave chocolate anonymously in their friends’ pigeon holes and cheer them up
Eponine – Turned up to a protest (same one as Ferre) with a sign that just said “Fuck Off”
Musichetta – Names all the locusts and worms she has to experiment on in labs. Refers to them as ‘her children’ and has a family photo album
Valjean – Sends a homemade meme to notify all their friends whenever the cafeteria is serving garlic bread
Javert – Dragged the entire group out to a field at midnight to watch a meteor shower. It was cloudy
In the group watch of this concert yesterday, the important topics of Enjolras’ indecent costume and the eventual stripping of the rest of Les Amis to copy him were extensively discussed.
However, not being too familiar with either the musical adaptions or 19th century Parisian fashion, I found it hard to keep track of who was taking off their clothes when. So of course, I went through taking screenshots of each character, first at the café, then at the barricade.
Why would I feel the need to document this? Well, that’s for me to know and you to find out.
First, Enjolras. He is inexplicably and indecently dressed right from the beginning. No coat, waistcoat open, cravat tied at the bottom, kinky leather wristbands, “what are shirt buttons for?” Either he is very passionate about the coming revolution, as @spacestationtrustfund suggested, or, as @elliotenjolras offered as an explanation, he was making out with someone pretty intensely just beforehand, and they failed to help him re-dress.
This Combeferre has the fashion sense of a stressed professor anyway, but he imitates (or perhaps is helped by) Enjolras in losing one vest and opening the second, loosening his (adorable) bow-tied cravat and rolling up his (questionable) sleeves for the barricade.
Jean Prouvaire is all-too-happy to shed some clothing for the cause, and looks suitably Romantic doing so.
Feuilly naturally strips to stand in solidarity with Enjolras and his unfortunate inability to wear clothes.
This Courfeyrac is so passionate that he probably tears at his clothes until they look like this. “Revolution is of greater importance, even, than my newest silk cravat, as fashionable as it undeniably is.”
Bossuet just managed to trip several times on the way to the barricade, and that’s why he looks dishevelled.
Joly removes his cravat completely, to go one better than his compatriots. Not at all because he has secretly always suspected that wearing one probably impedes the natural flow of blood to one’s head.
Grantaire is an absolute mess at the café and remains so at the barricade, matching Enjolras throughout.
Marius tries very hard to fit in by taking off his coat and cravat, but his frilly shirt and gold waistcoat makes him look more like a posh bee than a busy revolutionary.
Bonus: As @shellcollector pointed out, Javert easily infiltrates the group by dressing up as one of them. It’s not particularly difficult to do.
So there you go. Thanks to his loyal friends, Enjolras is not the only one who dies looking as though he only had 30 seconds to get dressed that morning.
Enjolras: the girl in Reykjavík that coordinated a venue which served as a halfway house and somewhere non-profits could meet free of charge, who I met at the fundraiser she’d organised to help get an unfairly deported refugee back with his family.
Combeferre: the guy in Munich who smuggled me into his 3hr Anatomy lecture despite the fact that I understood maybe three German words.
Courfeyrac: the boy at my London hostel who managed to talk his way into joining the game of Cluedo my friend and I were playing, and charmed unsuspecting fellow hostel-dwellers into reenacting ridiculous scenes like a CSI flashback.
Jehan: The Book Shop owner in Wigtown who had built a reputation of being a savagely unhappy and impolite rouge but was actually the nicest person ever (and even drew me a map with directions to the best nearby stretch of coast)
Joly: the guy at the Boston Public Market who immediately raced off to fetch me a bag of ice when I snapped a ligament in my ankle and crashed into his friend.
Bousset: the friend I crashed into.
Bahorel: the guy from the hostel in Würzburg who joined my friend and I in exploring the city and had no qualms about duetting the entirety of “A Whole New World” in the main square with me.
Feuilly: the girl in my hostel room in Boston who was exhausted from attending two separate overlapping conferences that week and still went out of her way to make sure I settled in ok and knew where to find the nearest laundromat and best cafe.
Marius: the man in line at the Eiffel Tower who, upon finding shelter with us from a sudden downpour, proceeded to shake his umbrella so that it saturated my music teacher in the process.
Grantaire: the couchsurfer I’d hosted from Sweden who had appeared every bit the uninterested student-on-a-gap-year I’d expected, but when I caught up with him on his own turf I discovered he was an actual qualified nuclear physicist.
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