My first time... in the Tonhalle

First times are often packed with expectations and wishful thinking - and a dozen blunders that seem to be just waiting for the debutant to step into them and splash the sauce in all directions under the eyes of those present. That's why: Preparation is key!

My laptop couldn't care less whether I'm sitting opposite it on the sofa in my jogging bottoms or a jersey during a series marathon. But I'd rather not embarrass myself in front of dignified connoisseurs of classical music. At least in my head I had already planned the outfit for my Tonhalle premiere: a black velvet dress, Dr Martens (let's not overdo it with the elegance), gold hoop earrings and a ponytail. Maybe the plan would have worked out if I hadn't gone to the gym that afternoon, the tram hadn't been late and it hadn't been pouring with rain. Had, had, bike chain...

In the end, I cycle up to the Tonhalle - without make-up, in leggings, rain trousers and a hairstyle that really doesn't deserve the name.

So there I am in my walking day outfit between people in smart suits and dazzling sequin dresses, slipping off my rain trousers in front of the cloakroom - and I realise that nobody cares.

With its time-honoured dignity, the gold-decorated stucco on the ceilings and the heavy chandeliers dangling over the rows of chairs like swords of Damocles, places like the Tonhalle can actually be a little intimidating. Do I really belong here? Can't you tell from the tip of my nose that I have no idea about classical music? I don't want to know how often questions like this buzz around in the minds of visitors. Maybe it's the first classical concert for the older gentleman in the jacket. And who knows whether the young woman in the evening dress doesn't actually prefer to wear her belly bare and has danced herself into ecstasy in a club the night before?

Yes, a visit to a concert hall like this is indeed worthwhile, if only to get to the bottom of questions about self-perception and the perception of others, to provide a counterpoint to the usual circle-of-three-four-five evening activities - and of course for the music. By the time the entrance gong sounds, everyone's eyes are directed in one direction anyway: forwards, towards the stage, where the Filarmónica Joven de Colombia has positioned itself for the evening. The programme opens with a piece by Wolfgang Ordoñez, also Colombian and probably destined to become a composer by name alone. To describe the piece in technical jargon, I would have to steal passages from the programme text, so I will stick to my own words: If Kevin McAllister hadn't ended up in New York, but stranded in the Caribbean - Ordonez' work would have been perfect for the soundtrack. Violinist Hilary Hahn then takes to the stage - and plays so well that the audience can't stop clapping. My palms were vibrating when Hahn finally left the stage after the third encore. Finally, the orchestra pulls out all the stops again and dares to not only play Shostakovich's Fifth accurately from the page, but also to deliver half a performance: Sometimes the musicians play blindfolded, sometimes they turn around dramatically in the middle of the performance or raise their bows like wands - Harry Potter sends his regards - while the audience waves brightly lit electric plastic candles through the air.

I have to admit: At times, my Tonhalle premiere felt like a cross between a rumba-soaked Christmas film and a Bon Jovi concert. Festive, a little cringy, but all in all very beautiful.

Whether the velvet dress would really have been appropriate?

Sandra attended the concert by the Filarmonica Joven de Colombia with violinist Hilary Hahn from Migros Culture Percentage Classics at the Tonhalle Zurich.