Restaurants which aspire to fine dining really do give you so much more than just a dandy plate of food. Somehow they even bring out the finery in you.
You won't turn up to Le Gavroche in ripped jeans, flip-flops and a musky wife-beater would you? (Actually, you couldn't even if you wanted to: Micky Roux is pretty hot on his obligatory jacket dress requisites.) If you're eating fine, then you want to dress fine.
And when you're seated: it's shoulders back, elbows off the table (you wouldn't want to crease the 900 thread-count ironed tablecloths). If you're eating fine, then you want to project some finery.
... and the bubble of conversation from your table... it's unlikely to recall Sunday's X-factor results punctuated with a litany of F-bombs. Let's, instead, effervesce with chatter of Puccini, of Proust, of Titian and of Linekar (OK, some things don't change).
Finally, the food... oh, this will be fine.