I’m the kind of person who often walks into a room and has everybody whisper “Who’s that girl?”
Unfortunately, it’s never said in the hushed and awe-filled tones of someone in the presence of True Beauty. It’s said in the same kind of way that someone might say “What did I just step in?” or even “Is that a pubic hair in my soup??”
I’m pretty sure I made such an entrance when I recently went to a swanky Sydney wine bar, wearing jeans and a smock top that mades me look like a hunchbank who’s six months pregnant.
I was going to see my fabulous friend GT sing and, indeed, had rung her beforehand to check the dress code.
“It’s very casual. Jeans are fine,” she assured me.
It wasn’t until I arrived there that I realised the statement “Jeans are fine” applied only to people as fabulous as GT who can wear anything anywhere and, in fact, never wear jeans because they’ve got far better things to wear.
There was some small part of me that wanted to shout out “Anyone care for spot of scrapbooking?” or (better still) “The Bells! THE BELLS!”as I walked across the room. Luckily, I was meeting my friend Dr L and my stepmother JJ – both of whom have known me for over two decades and know that I’m way cooler than I look. Okay, so a little cooler.
Anyway, the gig was great. GT has a velvety voice like an angel who’s wooing the devil, or at least talking him into giving her a really long foot rub.
But the “Who’s that girl?” moments continued. During one break between sets, Dr L and I heard our names being spoken. We looked up to see GT and a pretty blonde woman looking over at us. They waved to us and we waved back.
GT walked over to us a few minutes later.
“That’s [Karen], Mr F’s friend,” she said.
“Oh! Karen!” I exclaimed, knowingly.
“Ah yes! Karen...” Dr L echoed.
GT went back to the stage and began singing. After a few bars, Dr L whispered out the side of her mouth.
“Just checking… Do we know who Karen is?”
“Fuck, no,” I whispered back, my smile still fixed on my face.
After a few more songs, Karen got up to leave. She waved to us cheerfully. We waved back with equal enthusiasm.
“Bye, Karen!” Dr L said, brightly.
“God go with you, Karen!” I said, which made me giggle to myself for at least half an hour because I was a jeans-clad pregnant hunchback in a swanky Sydney bar and I had to find something to laugh about that wasn’t myself.
Anyway, as fate would have it, during the next break I found myself chatting to GT’s guitarist, a very talented man that I had met a number of times over the past 15 years.
After a while, he extended his hand to introduce himself.
“Uh, we’ve actually met a few times before,” I told him. “I’m [NDM].”
“Oh! [NDM]!” he exclaimed, clearly remembering the name but struggling to put it to the mumsy Quasimodo figure before him. “Uh…”
“It’s okay!” I told him. “I’ve had three children and have gone completely to seed!”
He looked back at me blankly and blinked. I took this as my cue to continue.
“You, however, look exactly the same!” I enthused. “That’s worked out well for you!”
And I smiled my brightest smile, knowing full well he’d be thinking “Who is this girl?” even though I had ostensibly just answered that question for him.
What can I say? I clearly have a gift. But who that gift is for is anyone’s guess.
Not Drowning, Mothering. 
roflmbo just so ya know I do the same thing. My mom will say oh you remember so and so and I am like sure sure so and so who is so and so’s daughter/son.. which will follow with her going yeah that one..
I think the world would be a much happier place if we all wore name badges…
My cure for this is never go anywhere. Ever. For the most part I’m achieving this very well. The up-side to having a shaved head is that most people assume I’m some sort of Buddhist nun and the standard I’m expected to achieve is lowered drastically. Win-win.
I would have thought people’s expectations would have been higher. You know, expecting you to be all zen-like in the face of adversity… Also, nobody would ever offer you an alcoholic drink. That’s gotta hurt…
LMAO well I am actually a Buddhist, so I don’t drink … it works ok. Zen-like… eh, I’m working on that bit.
Ah yes – Quasimodo-induced early onset dementia….I know it well! Who are you again?
Uh, I don’t know. And you are…?
This is one of my pet hates. It absolutely winds me up when you meet someone you’ve met before- and they don’t remember you. Hate that. I’ve taught hundreds of students over the years and yes, I may forget names but faces- no. So why can’t other people?
(I am actually referring to one guy who did this to me a year ago who was the presenter in a programme i directed-fucking actors. I was raging. So rude.)
I am blessed with a face that people forget (“Walking Wall Of Beige”, anyone?) and a name that people can never remember or, once they have managed to remember…
As a result, I never expect people who have met me once or twice to remember me but if I have met them multiple times, I am mightily pissed off…
As a person who struggles to remember the names of people I know well, I’m on the side of the guitarist. Particularly if TheNDM was looking hunch-backy in a smock. But, as I like MisssyM and TheNDM, I promise to try a lot harder. I’m going to do that little ‘put a face to a rhyme’ memory-jogging thing…
So, ‘TheNDM is…’ actually, there’s not a lot that rhymes with NDM.
How about “The NDM is a Bendy Gem”?
It’s not a lot better being the one who forgets. I was with friends at a cafe recently and there was some ‘scope creep’ that meant we had to give up our hard-won table and wait for takeaway coffee. The person we gave our table to knew my name but I couldn’t remember his. I quizzed my friends. No one knew the guy so I finally went over and asked him and it turns out I’d had a meeting and a phonecall with him three years previously.
I felt a bit bad about it. But I also feel that once you hit a certain age (30) your mental files start compressing and once you hit another certain age (40) you begin getting some corruption and that we have to accept this if we’re to remember medium term stuff like the names of our fellow employees or the faces of the people at the local supermarket.
Three years ago? That’s another life time. My husband once went up to someone at a party to ask her why her face was so familiar. “I cooked you and your wife dinner at my house last week!” was her outraged reply.
I worked with a witch, closely, mere metres apart, fixing her shitty boring articles for our shitty boring publications, making her shitty boring STUPID presntations look interesting and informative, and in 7 months on at least 5 occasions, in meetings or work social thingys, she would introduce me saying ‘this is (GM), what do you do again?’
And I did actually check my spelling in those days…
Ooh, that would make me angry. I’d say “MAKE YOU LOOK GOOD, BEEOTCH!”.
Well I think smocks are very sexy.
I’ll remember that next time I don my smock…
Is it a Sydney thing? Does ‘jeans are fine!’ mean ‘$600 skinny jeans on a size 8 arse are fine!’ in Sydneyland?
I think the lesson here is that if you are already feeling a little ‘out of depth’, dressing down is not the answer to self-esteem. That’s why Spunky Todd can wear a tshirt and disheveled hair on national TV because he’s got confidence.
I think you look lovely NDMxx
Last time I saw you, you were completely drunk on Aldi cleanskins. ANYONE would look lovely in that state.
Still, I’m going to fold up that compliment and tuck it away in my wallet to look at next time I feel fugly..
Gone to seed? Then I have been the subject of a good dose of round up!
Did it sort you out? Do you look hot now??
Oh NDM… you don’t look a decade older than then we first met … And you were rocking that smock. That room was so full of fashion trendspotters you’ll be able to auction it off for squillons in a few months.
“Rocking that smock”? Noice. I might just write “Rock The Smock” across it in liquid paper before I put it on ebay…
good name for a tribute band? (in tribute to what is up to you…)
I went to a wedding last year, where I was told wearing a trouser suit would be perfectly fine. (Cos it was in the middle of winter, and I didn’t want to be, you know, like cold)! When I got there, ALL the other women, even the grandparents were dressed to the nines – stiletto heels, strappy dresses, dressed-hair, make-up, and false nails, the lot. Seriously, I felt like a mad aunt … Why do people do that!
As for people who pretend not to know you … I get in first these days. (Only with the ones as described above when you know they know you or should … )
Grandparents in stiletto heels? Even the granddads? Man, that must have been some party.
I think the thing is to take a ‘layers’ approach to dressing. Have a ‘fun’ accessory that you can take off if everyone is dressed like Mormons or keep glitter in your pockets to scatter over everyone if you feel under-dressed and over-shadowed…
I now force my friends to send me pictures of what they’re wearing. Because I don’t need any help being awkward.
Thank god for the era of the MMS. Must save many people from fashion disasters…
NDM, at least you got noticed. When you get to my age, people tend to look through you, as if you don’t exist. {Actually as far as Gen Y is concerned, you don’t}. I get the occasional smile from females in Woolies, but I think it’s pity, more than attraction…….
Not all attention is good, Fendy. Remember that.
My partner is the person everyone recognises and remembers – he remembers no-one. I could be a spy, no-one remembers me.
My husband never remembers anyone. According to my friend FatherOfCrankyPants, the condition has a name – it’s called “Prosopagnosia” – or the failure to recognise faces.
My husband thinks that the cure is drinking lots of alcohol. I’m not so sure…
This is so funny. I love you, have I told you that before?
wait! Are you really a pregnant hundchback or do you just look like one? 😉
As for remembering people’s names I am totally hopeless and barely remember my kids’ teachers names etc ….so we are kindred pregnant hunchbacks
I have grown up with that guitarist, that is my father all over. Many a childhood memory is off my dad looking at a friend of mine, or even worse boyfriend and frantically trying to remember their name. It usually ended in “All right mate/miss” as he could not remember and had to wait for us to leave so he could ask my mum!
“..whom have known me for over two decades and know that I’m way cooler than I look.”
this is brilliant. my husband (aka Awesome, which kinda says it all) also says : ‘just toning it down a little, so we don’t end up with stalkers’..
ha! at least you can call yourself a GIRL! even tho I am up the duff, I am officially an old woman!
I use Cate’s method, I never go anywhere, I cant put folk thru it, the change from cool party girl to heavy breasted, thick waisted confused, homesick, babysick-smeared skint bore is usually too much for previous acquaintances to deal with! altho since having children, I have become invisible anyway so at least shoplifting is a fun past time to pick up again!
there are many wine bars in our area and i always visit them coz i love to drink ”