The scene in the Élysée courtyard was one of studied formality: the Sultan of Oman, Haitham bin Tariq, arrived in Paris for his first official visit since ascending the throne, greeted by a Republican Guard honour guard and the prospect of historic agreements on economic partnership and security in the Strait of Hormuz. Yet as the two leaders stood face to face, the gaze of social media was already fixed on a single detail — the dark, teardrop-shaped aviator sunglasses that Emmanuel Macron had once again chosen to wear. According to the French president’s entourage, the accessory was a necessity, a response to a recurring eye problem that had also forced him to don similar shades during the World Economic Forum in Davos earlier this year.

What was intended as a practical measure quickly became a visual lightning rod. On social media platforms, users revived a familiar strain of irreverent commentary, speculating with mock concern about the origins of the president’s condition. Florian Philippot, the leader of the French nationalist party Les Patriotes, posted a widely shared message that encapsulated the tone: “Macron has got his sunglasses out again! Another slap from Brigitte or just trying to look cool again?” The reference, as many noted, was a call-back to a previous occasion when the president’s eyewear had prompted similar online jibes, including a remark from former US President Donald Trump, who had once joked about Macron’s “nice sunglasses” during a public appearance.

Philippot’s intervention, reported across French and international media, highlighted how the sunglasses have become a recurring motif in the public perception of Macron’s presidency. The politician, who leads the right-wing Les Patriotes party, also pointed out that the French company which manufactured the original pair worn in Davos had since gone bankrupt, a detail he used to underscore his critique. The commentariat’s focus on the accessory, rather than the diplomatic substance of the meeting, was echoed by users on X, who speculated about whether the glasses concealed a fresh injury or were simply a stylistic affectation.

From a protocol standpoint, the choice to keep the glasses on during a formal greeting and the subsequent signing ceremony raised eyebrows. A Russian etiquette specialist, Tatiana Nikolaeva, told Lenta.ru that standard diplomatic protocol dictates that sunglasses should be removed during face-to-face conversation, unless a medical condition makes it necessary. “If they meet and look each other in the eye, the glasses must be taken off,” she said, adding that they could be worn again when walking side by side. The official explanation of an eye ailment, however, placed the president’s decision within the bounds of that exception, even as it failed to quell the online chatter.

The episode illustrates how a single sartorial choice can, in the age of perpetual commentary, overshadow the carefully choreographed messaging of a state visit. While the two leaders discussed de-escalation in the Middle East and the demining of the Strait of Hormuz, the lasting image for many observers was not the handshake or the signed documents, but the opaque lenses that concealed the president’s eyes. As Macron kept the glasses on throughout the business forum that followed, the aviators became a silent protagonist in the day’s narrative — a small, dark screen onto which a global audience projected its own mix of concern, humour, and political critique.