How not to Dress for Success

I'm a manager, so I try to dress reasonably smartly.  I'm not really a 'corporate' kind of gal though, so luckily I work in tertiary education where smart-casual errs on the side of casual, and quirk is an acceptable substitute for shoulder pads and power suits.

New Zealanders are also fairly evangelical about our right to 'casual Friday' (aka 'dress-down Friday') and I am no exception, but even so, as a manager I 'dress down' less than I used to.

Normally.

Yesterday morning I must have been particularly tired when I dressed myself, and I actually did dress in the dark.  As a result I was dressed more 'Friday' than usual - denim capris, grey tee-shirt, navy cardigan and my favourite Diesel trainers.

Now, this wouldn't have been a disaster on most Fridays, but it wasn't until my Google Calendar booped at me at 11.25 that I remembered I had a launch (and lunch) function to go to at 11.30.  I was there as a representative of our governing body, as one of the elected staff members, and the guest of honour was, well, the Prime Minister.  Crap.

I had RSVPd, and knew they would have provided vegan food just for me, so I didn't feel right not going.  I bumped into my boss and her boss on my way down, and they tried to convince me it would be fine; people would just think I was a student representative.  Needless to say, though, I felt completely conspicuous and uncomfortable from the minute I walked in the door, and spent the entire time hanging near the back, half-pretending I was there for something else.

There were several interesting people in attendance who I would have liked to talk to, but there was no way I was going to do it dressed as I was, so I scarpered out and away the minute the formal bit was over, swiping a vegan wrap and a couple of spring rolls into a napkin on my way out.

When I got back to the office I still felt uncomfortable and despite the horse having well and truly bolted, I couldn't concentrate on work until I changed.  So I made a quick trip down to that trusty standby, The Warehouse, and re-suited myself in a long swishy top, black leggings and black ballet flats, for a grand total of $42.00.  If I'd only realised the function was on half an hour before I did, I could have shopped to more effect!

While I can see the funny side of the whole thing, I'm still also mortified. And I plan to keep a generic dressy outfit hanging on the back of my office door in case of future sartorial emergencies.

The lost arts of kissing and silence

When I was 17, a boy I liked (let's call him Billy) told me that men (boys) were intimidated by me, basically because I could be silent. Apparently I was scary because they (the men/boys) would say something, and I would just look at them, silently. They would feel like I was judging them or something (I'm making assumptions now) , and would then rush to fill the silence, ending up saying silly things and feeling embarrassed and hence becoming further intimidated by me. A vicious cycle.

Now, I never set out to be intimidating, but it's true that I'm comfortable with silence.  I don't know if this comes from being an only child, from acting training ("CLAIM the stage with your presence!"), or if it's just my personality, but I am perfectly happy to be silent with other people without feeling the need to fill the silence with chitchat.  Sometimes this drives my husband nuts (we have a bit of a gender reversal from the assumed norm - he's always asking me "What are you thinking?") but I just don't see the need for oral communication all the time.

So why do some people find silence so intimidating?  Is it because people are generally not great at reading body language and therefore need to be told how other people are feeling all the time?  I'm quite good at reading mood and sub-text through body language - is this because I'm ok with silence or am I ok with silence because I can read body language? I don't have any answers, just lots of questions! But ever since Billy made his great revelation, I've remembered (and utilised) the potential power wielded by the silent person...

As a side note, I didn't like Billy for much longer after that, not because of the intimidation thing but because when he kissed me, he turned out to be a tongue thruster. You know, the kind of guy who, when he kissed me, seemed like he was actually trying to do a thorough medical exam of my mouth and throat without using his hands. Not pleasant.  Also, he would occasionally mix it up by removing his tongue from my throat and bathing the lower half of my face in saliva instead.  I'm not sure he realised that I wasn't responding with passion, I was just trying to save myself from drowning.

Here's a tip for anyone who is yet to have their first kiss (or anyone who currently thinks that a kiss isn't a kiss unless you've licked the other person's tonsils at least once) - kissing is all about lips. Lips, not tongue. Did you ever notice that on a T9 phone, "kiss" and "lips" have the same number sequence? That's not a coincidence. A little bit of tongue is ok, but if in doubt, just keep it out!

I wonder what happens when two tongue thrusters get together?  Do they have an epiphany and realise that their kissing style, as mirrored by their partner, is about as pleasant as being ball-gagged?  Or do they each think the other is the most fantastic kisser ever, and go off blissfully into a saliva-filled future together?

Remember kids, kiss with your lips, and  don't be afraid of silence.  That concludes today's lesson.