"I shall spare you the lengthy rant about the obvious blight of ringing cell phones or the agony of late arrivals stepping on our toes or that awkward moment when you find your orchestra seats being warmed by sheepish looking third balcony hopefuls. That said, let’s review the more obscure yet heinous crimes that might send us fleeing back to our home surround-sound and plasma-screen systems, and far from live performances that require us to be a part of a communal experience.
~Gentlemen, if you must snore, make sure your companion has sharp elbows.
~Fanny packs are never an acceptable “concert” accoutrement, save it for the mall.
~Humming is a crime that is almost forgivable as it’s committed unconsciously. Still, never, ever, hum along with the music – the musicians really don’t need your help.
~Never leave a performance before intermission, unless you are injured and bleeding profusely. While you may be “bloody bored,” those around you are not.
~Ladies, please do not bathe in your Clive Christian No. 1 perfume prior to a performance. Gentlemen, you might want to skip the cologne altogether; you are in close quarters, not the French Quarter.
~Refrain from leaping to one’s feet, zealously clapping and shouting “bravo,” while the rest of us are still waiting to hear the last glorious notes of the aria.
~Dress appropriately. We all know that causal attire is encouraged these days, but let’s keep casual from becoming catastrophic. Shorts and a tank top might be appropriate in Branson, Missouri, the home of country music, but not in Avery Fisher Hall, the Home of the New York Philharmonic. As a young man I would attend such musical evenings wearing a borrowed jacket and dress pants purchased from the Salvation Army. I made an effort despite my “standing room” or “student ticket” status and rose to the occasion on limited funds while showing respect for the performers and fellow audience members.
There is no substitute for a live performance, whether it is ballet, classical, jazz, or soul. Miss Aretha Franklin demands, and gets, what she literally spells out for us – R-E-S-P-E-C-T. And that’s what other audience members and performers on stage deserve from us."
Yes, that's four pairs of black shoes of varying heel heights and one of the brown. There would be a pair of blue heels too, but the "New York" code of dress doesn't include as much blue as black. In my defense, at least all of these shoes are different sizes and shapes. I swear my mother has 16 pairs of the same exact same shoes -- in black. 
