SDTC Finishing School

By Karen Cleveland
As much as hot summer nights in the city are relished, there is something to be said for heading north, to a quiet cottage retreat. If you’re fortunate enough to have access to such an abode, enjoy it. If not, you’re likely wondering how to subtly score an invitation.

Couple positive affirmation (envision your bikini-clad self on a dock) with some well-placed hints to those in your inner social circle. Is there a friend-of-a-good-friend that regularly hosts company? Let them know how much you’d love a little escape out of the city and that you’ve heard great things about their place.

And place your hints carefully…you don’t want a pity invite that will make you the 3rd wheel on a romantic getaway, or an odd addition to a family weekend.

If you get an invitation, jump on it with gratitude! Ask what time to arrive, what to bring, how many people will be there (plan to doing a meal for the host/other guests … ideally coupled with a few pitchers of something awesome). In addition to pitching in for consumables (by a cash contribution and/or bringing some to share), plan to help make meals, wash up after them and generally make yourself useful (try not to sleep until 1pm if the rest of the place starts sorting out breakfast at 10am, don’t highjack the iPod and self-appoint yourself the DJ).

Bring a little something for your hosts to show your thanks. More tips at http://www.shedoesthecity.com/give_good_guest -- and load up on the SPF!

by Karen Cleveland
Ok, it’s not that salacious (as if I’d share the good stuff) but not too long ago, I was the jerk who left her cell phone on at the symphony. It was particularly embarrassing as I was sitting near the front and for the first few chimes, I was sure someone else was the culprit (and naturally, gave a soft scoff to relay ‘honestly, who leaves their phone on at the symphony’, until I realized the pariah was in fact, me).

Which got me thinking, what else not to do at the symphony! The Toronto Symphony Orchestra is a gem in the city – tickets are reasonable, and it can be a perfect reprieve. You simply cannot exit there stressed: it is blissfully tranquil. Before you go, some things to note:

·   Arrive a bit early, particularly if you’re picking up your tickets, it can take some time to go through the motions and into your seat.
·   If you arrive late, when until you hear the crowd break for applause, then go grab your seat.
·   Don’t chatter through the performance.
·   Clap at the end of the symphony, not in between the individual sets (or motions, as they are properly referred to). You can either check out the program, or a good rule is to wait until the conductor has put down the baton and turned around to face the crowd for a cue. Or just clap when everyone else does.
·   Yes, the cello long notes may be so relaxing that you fall into a blissful snooze - NO! This is allowed only if you are over eighty; in this case it's perfectly acceptable.
·   What to wear? Although casual office makes the cut, take the opportunity to enjoy the ritual of dressing up. A string of pearls, real or not - always seem to do the trick. 
·   You aren't watching a blockbuster at the AMC, so don't start crinkling chocolate or unraveling a secret sandwich. 
·   And of course, turn your phone off as soon as you’re settled in (and please, no sneaking in reading messages during the performance. Even Oprah could wait for intermission).

By Karen Cleveland
Before delving into how to get rid of gum tactfully, we’d be remised not to at least touch upon how to (or not) chew gum. Picture the stereotypical valley girl chomping on a piece of gum: mouth open, gratuitously snapping it….yeah, just do the opposite of that. If you have gum, awesome (you offered everyone else a piece, right?) but no one needs to know about it or be made aware of its presence.

Likewise when you need to get rid of said gum, no one needs to see it.

Do not
· Stick it to anything; undersides of surfaces included (I know you bastards are out there)
· Toss it on the ground
· Spit it into or onto anything

Endeavour to
· Roll it back into its wrapper (or tissue, or scrap of paper, you get the gist)
· Discreetly put it into the garbage
· If no other options abound, swallow it. It will not, despite what our parents told us, stay in your stomach for years.

If you’ve been made a victim of a dirty-gum-sticker, grab some ice. Freezing it is the best way to remove gum from fabric.

By Karen Cleveland

There’s a draconian social code dictating that you tell someone when their fly is undone, that their skirt is tucked into their tights, and that there’s toilet paper stuff to their shoe. I like to think that our good-natured, polite ethos makes us feel just as comfortable telling a stranger at a restaurant any of the above, as we would telling a good friend.

In fact, recently SDTC’s very own belle of all things French and fabulous quietly and diplomatically told me when my lipgloss had gone renegade, and was smeared something awful. After all, what goes around comes around. And I’d rather hear that I’m looking like a hot mess/have something stuck in my teeth, than go about my day, ignorantly embarrassing myself.

So if that’s the light stuff, then….there’s the dreadful real stuff. The delicate, awkward territory that we’d prefer never to address with neither friend nor stranger…..you know, the stuff that makes your face scrunch up like you’ve sucked on a lemon: dental hygiene and dragon breath, body odour, reeking of smoke, or worse, horrible body odour. Perhaps the coward’s way out, but addressing this embarrassing stuff anonymously does the job with the least amount of damage. A discreet (DISCREET!) note folded and left on a chair, or tucked into a coat pocket that simply states the facts “there’s no easy way to say this, but if it were me, I’d want someone to tell me if my breath was terrible.”

It’s risky, true, but if this person is subject to gossip or teasing behind their back, step up and try and squash it. Pain for some gain?

By Karen Cleveland
I’m old school. My parents raised us that it’s not polite to talk about money, even in general context. It was imbued that discussing how much you earn or spend was gauche, and that simply no good could come from it. And I still think there’s merit in that.

We’re now in a consumer climate, however, where bragging rights for a bargain are touted with pride. Perhaps it’s the Winners mentality, or coming out of a recession, but it’s become more and more commonplace to flog, “I got these shoes for $50.00, half off, can you believe it!?”.

What’s still vague, and often awkward, is that a bargain for someone, can be a full-out splurge for another. Regaling tales of scoring 30 per cent off a $1,500 pair of Valentino heels might not be fitting to share amongst company who’s version of a great deal is a sale at the Gap. Our retail climate is a jumble of high-end and low-end (what designer hasn’t done a guest line for a mass retailer?) so take care not isolate people around you, regardless of where you shopped, or however great of a sale you found.

And in return for your anti-snobbery, may you be blessed by the shopping Gods, wherever you spend your hard-earned dollars. Amen.

Karen Cleveland
I don’t know about you, but I cannot wait to put February behind me. In general (and Toronto, in particular), it seems like the past few weeks have been fraught with tragedy; a steady stream of bad news.

And, sigh, the sad fact is that the bad stuff in life comes along with the awesome stuff.

If someone close to you has had a rough go (and not just a shitty day, but truly bitch-slapped by life: death or sickness close to them, laid off, broken up with, a miscarriage…the heavy stuff), give good friend.

Be respectful but present. Don’t address their heartache publicly, but offer a private acknowledgement (a card or flowers sent to their home or a thoughtful email) that they can take in, in their own time. The offer of distraction can be welcomed too, perhaps in the form of a movie, wine and takeout, with the topic of their sadness strictly verboten, unless of course they want to talk about it.

If you happen upon the wounded in person, keep a strong front and take your cues from them. If you enter a room, and give the archetypal “I’m soooooo sorry, are you ok?” with your head tilted (you know, that head tilt), it might trigger tears. They might be looking to you for strength, so try your best to give it to them.

If they want to cry, let them cry. If they say they need space to lick their wounds, give them space. There’s comfort in knowing that people are thinking of you, so try and convey that however feels more appropriate. “I’m thinking of you” goes a long way.

By Karen Cleveland

An acquaintance of mine divulged a gaffe that I couldn’t help but share (anonymously, bien sur)….oh dear, what a conundrum.

She’s simply burnt out at work: too many late nights, too many weekends and desperately needed to blow off some steam. On a school night, after clocking in a heroic Wednesday at the office, she looked for respite and found it on Ossington, in liquid form.

Nursing a violent hangover, she called in sick and took the day off. Fast forward to Friday, she comes into work, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed (and sober), and her colleague boasts, “Wow, you were so drunk Wednesday night! I saw you getting into a cab, you couldn’t even walk!”.

In front of her boss.

Busted.

My advice to her? I’m going old school here, but honesty is really the best policy. Fall on your sword. You got drunk and missed work, really an act completely undeserving of sympathy. Chin up and come clean to your boss that you acted irresponsibly, and that it won’t happen again (depending how guilty you feel, you could offer to take your sick day unpaid). And by golly, it better not happen again….in fact, your behaviour should overcompensate for your screw up.

And don’t throw a tantrum on your colleague for blowing your cover. It’s not her problem you slipped up. You might want to coach her on what’s appropriate morning office banter, your drunken-debauchery notwithstanding. Save that conversation for down the line.

For interest’s sake, the girl that this happened to had a melt down and started to cry, telling her boss that she’s so stressed and the pressure she’d been feeling was just too much. Her boss could easily infer that when stressed, this girl drinks too much, then misses work. Not good.

By Karen Cleveland

When thinking about conventions of breaking bread, etiquette is often discussed in the context of being a good host. But being a good guest is equally important. Yes, of course, the obvious tenets of arriving on time and not showing up empty handed apply (because you called in advance and asked what you could bring, right? And even when the response was a resolute ‘nothing, really!’, you brought a bottle of wine anyways, right?), but consider your performance during the main event – dinner.

Your host is likely looking to you for cues on whether you’re having a good time, so be mindful of that. Certain questions carry some weight, too, so when asked “how’s your dinner?”, know that responding “not bad” sends a dreadful message. Not to suggest that you need to lavish superlatives about a meal that is just ok, but come on, give a little – if you sincerely mean “not bad”, how about softening that with saying“really nice, thank you!” or “this salad/liver/cheesecake/chicken is great”, instead?

By Karen Cleveland

Buying gifts is tough. And you’re likely a hard person to shop for, too. So what’s a girl to do if she’s been bestowed a gift that isn’t really her? Regift? Return? Learn to love?

The window of time to make a decision is short (which the gift receipt will surely remind you). Consider who purchased the gift – perhaps they hand-picked it just for you, and confiding that it’s not really your style will hurt their feelings. In addition to hurt feelings, it might also give the impression that you’re difficult to please, or gasp, snobbish!

On the flip side, if you tell Auntie Margo that you absolutely love the baby pink wool mittens, you very well might get a new pair every birthday and every Christmas from henceforth. Perhaps honesty may be the best policy.

Tread lightly, this is sensitive stuff. Do you detest it so much that it can’t find a place in your wardrobe/life/heart? What’s to gain (and what’s at risk) by divulging the gift didn’t cut it? Be sensitive, and grateful, of course.

By Karen Cleveland

When asked to attend a a dinner party with 11 strangers (ok, nine strangers…there were a few familiar faces), even this social butterfly got butterflies in her tummy. Awkward talk about the weather? Or a night of shop-talk? Blech.

To my pleasant surprise, my well-matched dinner companions were full of lively discussion -- but that conversation was greased by thoughtful planning on behalf of host and organizer Marcello Cabezas.

His tips for keeping the L12 dinner party series lively might also help your next dinner party banter from going dull.

· Round up a group of like minded people (although interests and professional background can, and should, vary widely)

· Don’t be afraid to ask bold questions, but ask them to the masses, so no one feels put on the spot (the money question last night? “What did/do you wish your mother understood about you?”)

· Be inclusive and if someone is lagging out of the conversation, make an effort to subtly bring them back into the food.

· Good food served family style (encourages interaction) and a reasonable amount of alcohol encourages chatter.