Here at OC, we are struck by how often we end up in everyday conundrums. The ones that land you in the thick of semi (or full-blown) awkwardness, or maybe, the doghouse.
So, we turned to Simon Collins, the dean of the School of Fashion at Parsons. Collins recently penned a TOME that explores how and why people get to be so dang successful. To glean a bit of that for ourselves, we've launched Simon Says, in which Collins lends tongue-in-cheek, Brit-bloke advice to our pain-point questions and social entanglements.
So, we turned to Simon Collins, the dean of the School of Fashion at Parsons. Collins recently penned a TOME that explores how and why people get to be so dang successful. To glean a bit of that for ourselves, we've launched Simon Says, in which Collins lends tongue-in-cheek, Brit-bloke advice to our pain-point questions and social entanglements.
Q: What's the definition of a good friend?
The excellent TV show Coupling suggested the concept of "Porn Friends." Meaning, if you reached an untimely end, your "Porn Friend" would rush to your apartment and dispose of your porn collection before your parents found it.
Recently, I heard that ladies of a certain age acquire "Whisker Friends." Whereby, if you choose to dash off and meet your maker unexpectedly, said "Whisker Friend" will pop over and pluck those pesky whiskers from your chin, the ones you’d been meaning to get to for ages. Now that’s devotion.
For my own part, I have "Plane Friends." Having lived and played around the world, I’ve had the good fortune to build a small family of friends from places as far apart as Sao Paolo, Hong Kong, Devon, Seattle, London, Bournemouth, and New York. Now, if I happen to slip from grace and need some real help, any and all of these friends would drop everything and head for the nearest airport, no questions asked, first plane to me.
Q: What’s the best way to end a lackluster conversation?
Life is too short for boring conversations or bad wine.
There are several ways to escape the terror of a dull interlocutor. Entry-level extraction can be as simple as looking at your phone and suggesting that while nothing was heard, it had in fact rung and you missed it but needed urgently to respond. In the vein of, "So sorry, got to dash."
Of course, there are some who might take this as a signal to arrange a follow-up. It’s here that I’m afraid my nasty English side peeps out. While edging firmly away, I smile broadly and agree energetically with whatever they are suggesting but crucially, I don’t actually do anything. "Here let me get your email," they might say. "Yes, yes," I reply, knowing very well I won't.
There are other, more persistent dullards who need a firmer hand. I favor certain phrases, like, "I have absolutely no idea what any of those words mean," in reply to their puerile question. If you're feeling feisty, try, "It’s funny—I can see you talking, but all I can hear is static."
Finally, there are some who won’t respond to simple human communication (people who like guns, for example). For them, I offer an expression of bemused astonishment at the fact that they can even talk, much less that they are talking to me. A bit like witnessing a chimpanzee quoting a Shakespearean soliloquy. I might hand one of these suckers a business card, like the ones I sourced on Fifth Avenue a few years ago. These were plain, white business cards that carried a simple message in a bold font: "Stop Talking.”
