“You’ll see: he doesn’t look like anything, but he has such a long arm…” This old acquaintance may have warned us, the element of surprise is intact. This Tuesday in mid-January, Hervé Picard is meeting in a chic restaurant in the 8th arrondissement of Paris – his “ oasis », he says – with dark wood paneling and red and black carpeting. Here he is planted in this strange setting, in the middle of the suits and ties. He is slumped in his midnight blue armchair, his hair banging and dark circles marked, dressed in a padded and open sports fleece over a white T-shirt, tracksuit pants and black sneakers. Impossible to miss it.
