My New Friend

I met the most fascinating woman this week.

Our introduction occurred in a clothing boutique. I struggled to determine her age (it’s impolite to ask, you know). Twenties, a very good thirty-ish…I couldn’t figure it out, and of course, it didn’t really matter. We began chatting, and I found myself totally in awe of her. She’s tall, with the most beautiful, unruly head of hair I’ve ever seen. Her deep, smoky voice rarely rises above a whisper. She revealed very little about herself. Originally from New England, she made her way to Texas last year because she felt ‘it would be best’. I don’t like to pry, but I confess I could not wait to hear her story, because I knew it would be absolutely delicious.

Randomly, she asked about my posture. I told her that standing up straight was merely a habit, and anyone could do it. “I want you to help me,” she said, “feel free to physically straighten me up anytime you see me slouching.” There’s no small talk with her; she gazes into your eyes intensely, asking questions, and really wanting to know things about you.

She has no car (not even a drivers’ license), and lives ‘with a few people’. “I like to work,” she said. “When I’m not working I’m at home. I have no family here. What else am I going to do?”

By this time, I’m bursting with intrigue. Her mysterious aura mesmerized me. I want to know everything I can about her!

“Have you read The Secret?” she asked. Of course, I have. “What about The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success?” I explained to her that Chopra’s little guide was the one that got me started on my journey toward enlightenment. “Me, too….yeah, me too….” She responded dreamily.

All I could gather from our first conversation was this: she’s smart – almost ‘scary smart’. She’s taking steps toward finding out ‘what it’s all about’ (her words). She’s been in some trouble that’s separated her from her family. She doesn’t party, because she’s ‘done with that scene.’

And here’s the kicker: she’s only 18-years-old.

She carries with her such presence, such mystique, and such confidence that I naturally assumed her to be older. She possesses that certain something that a few women spend a lifetime seeking. She’s not interested in figuratively purging herself as so many are. In a day in which anything goes, she’s guarded enough to keep others coming back for more – a breath of fresh air, to be sure.

We’ve talked every day this week. She asked me if I might serve as ‘a bit of a mother figure – nothing heavy’ for her, since her own mom is so far away. Having no children of my own, this is the sort of request that really gets you right where you live.

I’ve often heard about old souls, and I know I’ve met a few of them in my life, but none has fascinated me more than this young woman. A kinship between us already exists – one that I cannot explain. And I look so forward to seeing where this ride may lead.

Beth Newman
Image Consultant/Life Coach
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A Little Information, Please

Please give me the minimum amount of information with the maximum amount of politeness.(Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis)

This statement provides me with yet one more reason to adore the late JBKO. In this age of information, one can literally become overwhelmed by it all. It doesn’t help, either, if you find yourself stuck with Chatty Cathys all day long.

Why do so many feel the need to purge themselves by talking incessantly about anything and everything? Do we owe it to “reality” TV, where so many people have license to say and do the most outrageous things? Do we owe it to cable news and the internet, where up-to-the-minute reporting prevails? Or is our society becoming so narcissistic that we naturally assume the rest of the world sits on the edge of its seat, waiting impatiently for our next word?

I enjoy good storytellers, provided that they’re actually telling a good story. I don’t enjoy rambling accounts of mundane activities. I don’t enjoy hearing private information that should only be discussed with one’s spouse/doctor/priest/therapist. I don’t enjoy someone telling me how fabulous he is – his actions should reveal it, not his words. I really don’t enjoy repeat offenders – those who tell the same tale over…and over….and over.

And please don’t get me started on those who walk through stores and other public places chatting on their cell phones. Take it to a more discrete location, and finish your conversation, please.

A mentor of mine kept a book on her desk entitled With Silence Comes Wisdom. She lived it, too, by working hard and not partaking in the typical water cooler conversations. She told us what we needed to know, and did so graciously.

My mentor never sat in another’s office for minutes on end, keeping them from their work. Before any conversation, she asked, “How are you?” and really listened to the response. She seemed genuinely more interested in hearing about other people. As a result, she got the best out of her employees.

That, in my opinion, exemplifies grace. It’s also great communication tactic. She accomplished extraordinary things with little verbal fanfare, much like the aforementioned JBKO.

With silence comes wisdom. So true.

The High Cost of Beauty

In Emile Zola’s short story, Complements, we as readers get a tongue-in-cheek look at the price of beauty. In it, Parisian woman seek the services of old Durandeau, who owns an agency that rents out less attractive girls. The theory behind Durandeau’s scheme is simple, really: women will appear more beautiful if they’re accompanied by an unattractive companion. The business proves to be a smashing success for all, except, of course, the hired “complement”. At the end of the day she removes her finery, stares in the mirror located in her tiny apartment, and realizes she’s nothing more than a pawn in the game of attraction.

Though a work of fiction, Zola’s story sheds a light on the ugly business of beauty. Women and men spend thousands of dollars every year on creams, serums, and potions to battle the signs of aging and to conceal alleged imperfections. Botox is mainstream, and it’s quite easy these days to have something removed or inflated all in the quest for attractiveness.

How did we get here? And why are so many of us starting to look the same?

I love what Simon Doonan has to say about it all in his book, Eccentric Glamour. Doonan, the creative director for Barney’s New York, questions the current “Bleached, Botoxed, Booby” look that is so prevalent today. He encourages us to embrace our own style and to (gasp) have fun with it!

I guess what it boils down to is confidence.

Knowing oneself sure makes it easy to don something that others may view as unfashionable. That same self-awareness makes it okay to keep that bump on the nose, or to allow those wrinkles to form. Focusing inward certainly takes the pressure off what’s going on outside.

Too bad the ladies in Complements didn’t realize this. So sad that so many don’t realize it today.

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