Write if a fact is wrong. Do not write for a table.
The address is [email protected]. I read it. I do not run a call centre. If you are asking me to book a seat, I will reply once: tickets are sold only on the official operator site. If you are telling me that a Métro exit has changed, or that I described a sightline that no longer matches a renovation, I will correct the page and I will mean it.
I do not answer requests for backstage tours. I am retired. The stage door is not mine to open. I do not forward messages to dancers, musicians, or the house press office. Twenty-six years backstage taught me that the public’s curiosity is endless and that the girls’ privacy is part of the job I used to do. That job is finished. This notebook is what remains.
If you found the site through a search advertisement and you are angry that it is not the box office, I understand the irritation. The advertisement should have said it was an independent guide; the top of every page still says it. Go to the official homepage and buy the seat there. Then, if you still want a dresser’s opinion on the balcony, come back.
Postal mail is not useful. I am not a company with a mailroom. I am a woman with a table and a domain name. For anything about personal data — a cookie, an ad preference, a request to delete an email you sent me — use the same address and put “privacy” in the subject. The longer explanation is on the privacy page. I will not ask you for a photocopy of your passport to delete a sentence you typed into an email. Europeans have rights; I prefer to honour them without a theatre of documents.
If you are a journalist looking for a colourful quote about feathers, you may write. If you want me to pretend I still speak for the house, you may save the stamp.