by Garance Dore
We would have philosophical conversations, smoke cigarettes, drink coffee, and feel pretty special.
Then one day, when I was about fifteen, Anne happened.
Anne was my exact opposite. Blond, loud, fun, easy. Total tomboy, complete lightness of being; imagine Cameron Diaz with a French accent. She was always laughing at herself, making fun of her mistakes, and she had a sunny confidence that drew people to her.
She was the daughter of diplomats, so she had traveled the world, lived everywhere, spoke four languages, had met presidents and hung out with paupers, and she would talk with the same passion about both.
I was fascinated. We fell into the most passionate friendship, and my world suddenly opened.
She made me laugh. She laughed at me. “Why are you so serious?” she said. Having grown up with two big brothers, she was outspoken; she would stand up for herself, fight if necessary.
She also didn’t have much of an ego.
But what she radiated was not only self-assurance—it was simpler than that: She didn’t think anyone was above or beneath her.
She would talk with a teacher with the same candor she would use with a friend. She would treat everyone equally and expect the same for herself. She just was who she was and instinctively knew that was the only way she could be.
This was probably the lesson of my life.
In her presence, I relaxed. I understood how my fears, my shyness, my bright redness, were actually a lot about how self-conscious I was, worried about myself and what people would think of me before considering the person I was connecting with.
I let that go, little by little. I got really interested in how other people were feeling, in what they were saying, what they were expressing with their body language. How could I make them feel at ease with me?
I learned to laugh at myself. At my quirks, my shyness. I would say something like, “Am I turning bright red right now? Because I can feel my cheeks burning.”
It would throw people off, make them laugh, change the energy in the conversation.
It would draw them closer, because it was human, honest, and simple.
I dared to ask questions. Like Anne, I decided that there was no shame in not knowing something. Instead of making situations more complicated by pretending, I would simply say, “I have no idea what you’re talking about…. ” And people would explain. They would actually love to explain.
I got the memo. The world wasn’t going to stop if I made a mistake or said something stupid.
I was not that important, I realized. Other people go through the same emotions—feel awkward, don’t know what to say, don’t know how to act. Just admitting it breaks the spell and creates ease and comfort.
As I got good at laughing at myself, I experienced the joy of making other people laugh, just by being my very imperfect self.
And I discovered the joy of connecting, which to this day defines everything I am.
I don’t know if Anne ever realized the gift she gave me.
But today I hope I can do the same thing for others. If I make people feel good, if I encourage them to be themselves and be at ease, then I feel happy and present.
To me, that’s the heart of elegance.
I LEARNED TO LAUGH AT MYSELF.
Anouk Colantoni
Hello is the most important word of your day.
Do you know how I can tell if we’re going to have a good day at the studio? How well things are going with the team? It’s in the way we all say hello to each other in the morning.
Saying hello takes less than a second. It’s the easiest thing in the world to do, yet so many people completely miss the opportunity. It’s too bad, because with a beautiful hello you can change the atmosphere in a room—it acknowledges the people around you; it makes them feel present and important (they are).
French as I am, I go totally Italian on this one.
I love a clear, genuine, warm hello.
You have one shot at hello with each person you see during your day. Don’t fuck it up! Use your hello for good. For a lesson in what not to do, here are three examples of…
WAYS TO FUCK UP YOUR HELLO
THE HALFWAY HELLO
This one is subtle, but subtlety is of the essence in interpersonal relationships.
The halfway hello. Aaaaah, you were almost there; why did you let it get away?
It’s entering a room and throwing your hello in the air like you just don’t care, without looking at people.
It’s saying hello to someone while at the same time looking over their shoulder to see if there is someone else more important in the room, or looking to the side to see what’s on TV, or looking down to see their shoes (only allowed if followed by “Oh my God, sorry, I got distracted. I love your shoes so much!”).
It’s saying hello with a strange expression, leaving the recipient of your hello worried for the rest of the day. (Was she sick? Was she mad at me? Is she having an affair with my husband? Did she just get Botox?)
THE SLACKER HELLO
I once hired a young woman who, every morning, would show up at the office with a giant venti double-shot iced caramel macchiato in her hands and an expression that meant either:
1. She’d had very bad sex last night—not a good look.
2. This was the very very very last venti double-shot iced caramel macchiato she would ever hug against her chest, because Starbucks was banning her from the store forever.
3. Her puppy had just died. Or something equally bad.
Her hello was an exhausted whisper, accompanied by eyes rolled up to the sky. I’m sure she wanted this to come across as something like “I am so important, yet my life is so filled with drama. What wonder will I accomplish today?” But it came off more as “I’m so bored already and it’s only nine o’clock. What unimportant task will I have to slack off through today?”
These entrances gave everyone in the office micro-anxiety attacks for a while, then we all had to start laughing about it (and, I’m sorry to report, imitating her behind her back), and then one day we decided it was time to part ways. Pheeeew.
THE ASSHOLE HELLO
In fashion, the beautiful hello is an art that most powerful people have mastered. It’s often at the lower levels—though still high enough to inflate a weak ego—that the disease strikes.
But positions change very fast in fashion. People remember. The intern remembers. You can fuck up your hello once (it happens, even to the best), but don’t do it twice.
I’m sure it’s the same at your school or in your business. That’s the way it works, so here are the basics:
If you’ve met someone and have been properly introduced, you should say hello the next time you see them. The simplest of hellos will do. Pretending not to see them either means that you’re blind and not wearing glasses (meaning you’re old and vain) or that you’re simply an asshole.
If you’re sitting next to someone at a dinner, you should say hello and introduce yourself. You should also try to exchange a few words.
You could also not introduce yourself and turn your back to talk to the person on your other side for the whole dinner. But that would mean you’re an asshole.
If, say, you’re speaking to Beyoncé and your doorman passes by (I know, but weird situations do happen), say hello to your doorman—nothing fancy, just a nice nod. He will understand that you are presently talking with a very important person.
There’s nothing worse than changing the way you address someone depending on the situation you’re in. Hello is a set currency between two people.
Even if you really wish you’d never been introduced to someone, unless they’ve hurt you very badly and it’s war, say hello. That’s the way society works; we’re not animals. Anything less would be rude.
Remember, hello is such a wonderful opportunity! Use all these free hellos to send good vibes out into the world, to build your persona, and as an opportunity to smile more.
We all look better when we’
re smiling anyway.
WE ALL LOOK BETTER WHEN WE’RE SMILING ANYWAY.
In my world, the thank-you note is a pretty important thing.
It’s kind of expected.
Feared, almost.
You say thank you all the time. Thank you for a present, of course. Thank you for dinner, obviously. Thank you for giving me that job. Thank you for working for me. Thank you for interviewing me. Thank you for letting me interview you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Thank you for thanking me too. Yep, like Russian dolls. Just imagine:
Somebody sends you flowers to say thank you for a beautiful collaboration.
You should thank that person for the thank-you flowers.
And you might—I mean IT’S NOT IMPOSSIBLE, but you might receive a thank-you note thanking you for your thank-you note. I swear.
At the very least you might get a thank-you e-mail.
The last one standing wins? That’s the way it plays in New York.
I am not sure about thank-you-note practices in Paris, but I don’t remember being thanked that much. Not at all, actually.
I don’t know if that’s because at the time I was living there the things I was doing were not worth thanking or if it’s because Paris is more of a thankless city.
But in any case, back then I was not thanking around as much myself.
When I got to New York, people must have thought I was very impolite to not thank officially. Brrrrr, dark, dark days for la Doré.
I ENDED UP LEARNING IT BY LIVING IT, AND TODAY I’M SHARING MY THANK-YOU-NOTE SCIENCE WITH YOU. HERE IT IS:
A thank-you note can be almost anything, as long as it comes from the heart.
It can be a doodle made on a napkin with a Bic pen, and you can keep it pretty informal. Or it can be a beautiful personalized note on proper stationery, written with a delicate fountain pen (“Thank you for this enchanting dinner…”).
ALSO, DON’T FORGET:
It should feel personal. Include an intimate detail or a short anecdote.
Keep it simple. Handwriting is enough to express how much you care.
A thank-you note can be late if you apologize with a sense of humor. But if you don’t know how much of a sense of humor your recipient has, send on the earlier side.
End with a simple closing. “Love,” “Best,” “With Love,” depending on the person.
Write the address in your own hand.
That’s it! As simple as that.
I’m sorry to report, though, that to this day I am not really sure about when to stop the Russian-dolls thank-you effect. So I just thank everybody, all the time.
Thank you for reading this.
No, thank you.
No, I insist, thank you!
E-MAIL MADE ME A BAD PERSON
If e-mail didn’t exist, you’d say I was a pretty adorable woman with a French accent.
But e-mail does exist. I still don’t understand how it all went down. One day, somebody decided, “E-mail is the modern way to communicate!!!” and, just like that, it took over our lives.
It’s true that in the meantime I decided to start a blog.
You can’t have a blog and not do e-mail.
Yes. I thought for a moment I could be like Ralph Lauren and not do e-mail.
But I’m not Ralph Lauren. My level of coolness doesn’t negate my need to answer e-mail. So beware, Ralph. I’m working on it.
I’m me, and if you send me an e-mail, I swear I will desperately try to answer you.
But I might not succeed. Here are the reasons why. Try not to hate me, okay?
FIRST, YOU NEED TO KNOW, I CAN’T TYPE.
I type slowly. I type with two fingers only, and I envy you terribly, all of you who can use all ten fingers to type. But I can think of a million things I’d rather do than spend time in front of my screen to learn how to type.
And you’re right, it’s completely counterproductive for a writer to spend half her day pecking away with two fingers. I have to work on it. Till I do, e-mailing takes time and way too much finger power.
THEN THERE IS THE UNSTOPPABLE E-MAIL FLOW.
FROM MY TEAM AND MY AGENTS
I answer these e-mails most times, because they’re always urgent and important, and also because I know I can answer in “Garance,” a special language that only people who know me well can understand.
It goes something like this:
“Yts I’ll be there abut
I know. It’s absolutely rude to expect people to decipher my e-mail language. Only bad, rude people do that.
I TOLD YOU.
FROM CLIENTS OR POTENTIAL CLIENTS
After five minutes in my in-box: Ah, this is important. I can’t just answer on the fly in “Garance.” I’m going to flag this and respond when I have space and time to formulate the perfect answer.
After one day in my in-box: Oh noooo! That flagged e-mail! I forgot about it! I have to answer it as soon as I am back at the studio. It’s so important! I am going to resend it to myself. And set a reminder. If I let two days pass I will definitely lose that job.
After three days (and three flags and ten alerts): OH MY GAAAWD, the e-maaaail!!! I must stop everything I’m doing and answer right away. It’s okay if it’s short and “sent from my iPhone,” right? No? Well, what choice do I have, REALLY!?!
A late, rushed e-mail to a client from your iPhone? That looks bad.
Rude!!! And worse: unprofessional. (The worst insult you can give anybody in America. If you want to see people turn red and give you bad service forever, just try it)
I TOLD YOU.
I know what you’re thinking: Why not just set aside a time to answer e-mail?
Because I’ve tried. It ends up eating 80 percent of my morning. It drives me crazy.
FROM MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS
Unless I receive it right at the moment when I am bored AND online, I tell myself that I’ll answer as soon as I have the time to write a nice, fun response with news in it, and jokes, and photos, and questions, and everything a great e-mail should be.
So I put it aside for later, when I’ll have time, which is NEVER.
It’s bad because not only does my family hate that I never respond to e-mail, they also worry about me. Then they follow up with a text: “We’re worried. Are you okay?”
Letting the people you love worry about you is so, so, so bad. So rude. Only bad people do that.
I TOLD YOU.
I finally decided that I had to address the e-mail disaster that was becoming my life (losing jobs, breaking up with friends, my family disowning me), and I hired an assistant.
My assistant is diligent, always answers on time, with real words and no smileys (I use a lot of smileys, which is immature AND unprofessional), and it solved a lot of my problems.
When I need to respond to someone directly, she’s on my back till I want to kill her. And she handles—very professionally—anything that I don’t need to respond to myself.
She also answers anybody who is nice enough to understand that I have a problem with e-mail and who won’t be shocked that I don’t answer personally.
Sometimes she even e-mails with my friends to set up a night out. Or deals with my family, planning a vacation in Morocco, because otherwise there would be no vacation in Morocco with my family.
It’s okay, it sort of works. But I know deep down how rude it is. SO rude. Absolutely rude.
Also, one day my assistant might tell me she’s going to Morocco with my family in my place.
She would be right to do so. I deserve it. I’m a bad person. All because of e-mail.
YTS I’LL BE THERE ABUT
How crazy do we get with our phones?
We risk collision with a car/person/pole every two minutes because we can’t resist texting while walking.
&
nbsp; We spend a fortune on our data plans, instead of on that beautiful pair of shoes we’ve just Instagrammed (yes, I’m talking about you, international data roaming), and we broadcast things to the world that we’d never want our moms to stumble on (yes, your mom is following you).
I guess we need some ground rules, and our rules need to change as we go, because, as you know, the minute you’ve mastered one form of social media, a new one pops up with a vengeance, more fun, more cool, more demanding of your time, and triggering a whole new set of social anxieties.
So, in order to try to stay cool and, hmm, socially aware, let’s develop some social-media etiquette and beware of…
THINGS THAT MAKE PEOPLE NEVER CALL US AGAIN
Checking your phone on a date, in a business meeting, at a job interview, dinner, or wedding. Basically, taking your phone out during any interaction when you should be focused on the people present—sex included—is wrong.
NB: Checking your phone under the table is neither discreet nor respectful. It makes people believe that you can’t meet their eyes because you think they are stupid. They won’t understand that you’re looking at your phone under the table.
Or, worse, they will just think that you are staring at your crotch while they’re speaking.
That person will never have dinner with you again.
THINGS THAT MAKE PEOPLE HATE US
Laughing out loud while checking your phone at the office. It makes everyone else feel like you’re laughing at them (and that you’re not working). If you let it happen one day and it is an exception, share the joke.