What does one wear to a high school reunion? I’ve never bothered going to these things in the past, but apparently we’ve clocked up 20 years now, so I feel it’s time I put in an appearance. My friend Paulo has been hassling me about teaming up for the five-hour drive, too. Maybe he has some insight into what level of effort one is expected to invest on the personal presentation front.
Then again, I have no doubt he’ll be going all out with a suit and tie in some outrageous colour – he always has to be the centre of attention. I reckon I might try for going under the radar a bit. The one concession I’ll make is getting a sweet haircut and blowdry, seeing as I could do with one anyway. Perhaps Paulo would be up for joining me in the swanky hair salon at David Jones. Melbourne, do you have any other recommendations before I book that in?
While I’ve never understood why people get so jazzed about attending this kind of event (did we really like each other all that much back in the day?), I suppose I get the compulsion to want to present well. Not that there’s any rational explanation for my wanting to impress these people, but the fact remains that I want them to think well of me. Personal style is a straightforward way of announcing to relative strangers that one has attained success, or at least leads an exciting life.
Oh, there’s a text from Paulo. He says he’d prefer to go to his usual South Melbourne hairdressing salon, which is fine by me. I think I’m in the minority here, but I honestly don’t care that much about having a relationship with a hair stylist, or getting just the right cut for my face shape and hair texture every time. I mean, it grows back, people. What’s the big deal?
Evidently, Paulo doesn’t share this perspective with me. He can dictate my whole look, for all I care – I trust his judgement over my own on this particular occasion.