“People blather on about themselves and their petty concerns. Do they ever stop to ask themselves, who is this person listening to my monologue?” This lament spilled from the lips of La Prof, one of Sweet Cakes’ beloved Girlfriends, one whom, though she was not officially employed in the teaching profession, nonetheless managed to stitch much instruction and mentoring into her daily life. To her, Sweet was posing questions about parties, specifically, how to have fun and maintain one’s fetching qualities at a social gathering.
And the friends had already covered the basics: Never give anyone reason to describe you as “sloppy” when it comes to alcohol, even if the spirits have been procured at a charming local wine shop and bear labels with words like Rhone and Gruner Veltliner on them. That a lady never slurs should go without saying, so agreed La Prof and La Cake.
Additionally, dressing to meet the occasion was another basic so well understood between the confidantes, it was dispensed of within minutes. Tiaras are appropriate where ponies and juvenile birthdays are involved; flip-flops (even the ones that reach for sophistication with the addition of a kitten heel) are appropriate never. This the friends knew well. Sparkly earrings catch and cast warm light around one’s face all evening; both understood it best to wear jewel-toned eyeliner to make the most of it.
No, it was not the essentials of comportment and couture that formed the core of Sweet’s questions. Rather, she asked La Prof, what artifice could Sugar-candy employ to make the most of small talk at parties. Were there tricks to bringing out the best in people, conversationally?
La Prof wanted nothing more eagerly than to provide a crib sheet full of clever questions for her darling Sweet, the better to equip her dearest Girlfriend with a party-ready accessory. Alas, La Prof had to confess to Honey-pie, peering over her mauve eyeglass frames, that she had no such easy solution. Indeed, La Prof had been around the world in terms of interlocutions, and yet, as the start of this column suggests, she came each time to the same dreadful conclusion: Most party talk is insufferably dull.
La Prof could dish out the most amusing questions: “What did you do on this, the last day of the year?” “What have you been listening to in your car lately?” “Do you enjoy cooking? Do you have a special dish?” Other guests seemed happy with La Prof’s inventive conversation-starters—happy to talk about themselves, that is. Yet, how terribly rare were those occasions when they volleyed a similar (or even the same) question into the court of their interlocutor!
Still, La Prof was not content to leave her darling Sweet with such a pessimistic answer. Her friend wanted guidance to get out of the party-talk rut, not just more creative details by which to describe it. At last La Prof reckoned some advice for Sweet Cakes: When someone answers your inventive and caring question, listen politely, offer a follow-up query, and then cap the exchange with some gentle direction: “That sounds simply charming,” La Prof urged Sweet to say. “May I tell you what I did today, December 31, 2006? Perhaps you will find my adventure as interesting as I found yours.”
It was a polite pointer, the Girls agreed, and whether its sentiments were entirely true—well, that is a matter the ladies discussed amongst themselves, a conversation that it would be untoward to repeat here.
Dear ones, Sweetie-pie loves every one of you and your spirit of generosity (to say nothing of your excellent taste), but here she must demur: La Cake wants nothing. Strike that—she wants no thing.