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, who after six years in his plum perch, just announced plans to step down at the end of this year. Translation: More time to divulge lessons on how to act when you meet royalty...
Q: New York City is full of famous people. You recently met one in particular: Kate Middleton. How do you keep your cool?
It’s true that you can’t throw a bread roll down Fifth Avenue without hitting someone who’s been on the telly for better or worse. Even a humble school teacher like me occasionally finds himself inadvertently in the presence of Greatness, or greatness.
Take for instance this past week when I was unexpectedly summoned to the Official Residence of Her Majesty’s Consul General, there to dine with none other than Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Cambridge. Rule number one: wear your best kit. Unless you’re emerging after 68 days trapped in a coal mine then dress nicely, it’s what your mom would expect. Rule number two: this is business; you probably won’t end up as BFFs so think professionally. Have your elevator pitch and a quick one liner if you can. Rule number three: shut up and move on when you’re done. It’s business, remember? And I need not tell you that selfies are not on, right? Thank you.
Now you may also meet Fragrant and Pouting VIPs who are not as professional as your average HRH. Take, for example, Madonna, who I expect is quite lovely. I can’t confirm that personally because the time we stood next to each other at a mutual friend’s birthday, I froze and imagined the conversation as follows:
Me: “Err hello, err Madonna, are you, um, having fun?’
Madonna: (Not quite looking at me) "I am Madonna."
Me: "Oh, right." (Slinks quietly away.)
But now we come to the big one, that moment that happens for the rarified few who have a chance to meet Her Majesty (and, no, I don’t mean Madonna). Whatever they might tell you to the contrary, all English boys play this through in their tiny minds. This is how it would go for me:
Me: (Bows deeply, wearing the full armour—dad’s tie, mum’s ring, late BF’s watch)
Powdered Flunky escorting HM: "This is Mr. Simon Collins, Your Majesty. He lives in America."
HM: (Smiling graciously) "And what brings you here, Mr. Collins?"
Me: (Blank stare, mind empty, dopey smile)
Powdered Flunky, who’s seen it all before: "Mr. Collins is in the fashion business, Ma’am."
HM: (Now smiling sympathetically) "And what do you do in the fashion business?"
Me: (Desperately trying to remember what I do)
Powdered Flunky: (Eyes imploring me to speak) "He was recently dean of a design school, Ma’am."
HM: (Maintaining sympathetic smile) "I do feel we must do everything possible to educate for the future, don’t you?"
Powdered Flunky: (Eye roll)
HM: (Final parting smile as she moves on.)
Me: (Remembering own name) "Simon Col
So, we turned to Simon Collins, the dean of the School of Fashion at Parsons, who after six years in his plum perch, just announced plans to step down at the end of this year. Translation: More time to divulge lessons on how to act when you meet royalty...
Q: New York City is full of famous people. You recently met one in particular: Kate Middleton. How do you keep your cool?
It’s true that you can’t throw a bread roll down Fifth Avenue without hitting someone who’s been on the telly for better or worse. Even a humble school teacher like me occasionally finds himself inadvertently in the presence of Greatness, or greatness.
Take for instance this past week when I was unexpectedly summoned to the Official Residence of Her Majesty’s Consul General, there to dine with none other than Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Cambridge. Rule number one: wear your best kit. Unless you’re emerging after 68 days trapped in a coal mine then dress nicely, it’s what your mom would expect. Rule number two: this is business; you probably won’t end up as BFFs so think professionally. Have your elevator pitch and a quick one liner if you can. Rule number three: shut up and move on when you’re done. It’s business, remember? And I need not tell you that selfies are not on, right? Thank you.
Now you may also meet Fragrant and Pouting VIPs who are not as professional as your average HRH. Take, for example, Madonna, who I expect is quite lovely. I can’t confirm that personally because the time we stood next to each other at a mutual friend’s birthday, I froze and imagined the conversation as follows:
Me: “Err hello, err Madonna, are you, um, having fun?’
Madonna: (Not quite looking at me) "I am Madonna."
Me: "Oh, right." (Slinks quietly away.)
But now we come to the big one, that moment that happens for the rarified few who have a chance to meet Her Majesty (and, no, I don’t mean Madonna). Whatever they might tell you to the contrary, all English boys play this through in their tiny minds. This is how it would go for me:
Me: (Bows deeply, wearing the full armour—dad’s tie, mum’s ring, late BF’s watch)
Powdered Flunky escorting HM: "This is Mr. Simon Collins, Your Majesty. He lives in America."
HM: (Smiling graciously) "And what brings you here, Mr. Collins?"
Me: (Blank stare, mind empty, dopey smile)
Powdered Flunky, who’s seen it all before: "Mr. Collins is in the fashion business, Ma’am."
HM: (Now smiling sympathetically) "And what do you do in the fashion business?"
Me: (Desperately trying to remember what I do)
Powdered Flunky: (Eyes imploring me to speak) "He was recently dean of a design school, Ma’am."
HM: (Maintaining sympathetic smile) "I do feel we must do everything possible to educate for the future, don’t you?"
Powdered Flunky: (Eye roll)
HM: (Final parting smile as she moves on.)
Me: (Remembering own name) "Simon Col