On comments
Compliments, consequence, community
I don’t consider myself a particularly impressionable person (would anybody admit to being so?), however, on Saturday morning I was reflecting on the week just gone, from the friend I met, the exhibitions I had chance to visit, the food I ate and the work I got done. During my reflective exercise, I noted how there were two particular comments directed at me, and one particular comment that I said to someone else, which made me do something I may not have done if the words were left unsaid. I started thinking about the power of casual comments, small enough to be considered passive, but influential enough to change a thought or action or habit thereafter.
As a reader and writer, you do not need to tell me about the power of words. I have pages and pages of notes on my icloud and in my notepads containing words and phrases taken from podcasts, emails, magazines, features and now Substacks, hundreds of quotes screenshotted from instagram, and passages of texts highlighted on physical articles and books. I write down particular words or phrases that capture my attention, perhaps for their beauty, perhaps for their meaning, perhaps for their intention. I see words that brim with passion and purpose, and words that are soft and subtle and quiet. There are words that are instant and sharp, and sentences that flow like rivers, on and on and on. Most of us see and hear thousands of words per day, ones that we listen to with purpose, or have on in the background to keep us feeling connected. In person, we talk in sentences: formal, informal, emotional, stoical, personble, professional, truths, embellishment. We experience words as soon as they are said, but sometimes, we only acknowledge, understand or feel them much later on. And it’s then when we realise that comments have consequences.
It’s quite baffling, really, which comments stick with you, some playing over and over in your head whilst others randomly pop up and precede to make you question whatever it is you are about to do. Rarely is it the multiple nice comments made on your latest instagram post that make it into this memory bank, nor is it the comments made during an argument, which sting at the time but end up drops in the ocean of existence. Often, it is the small comments made without thinking; the small comments that have the greatest effect.
On Saturday, I thought about four particular instances where small comments have had a great effect, and thought I might as well share them.
Recent comments sent my way:
One of my colleages, an esteemed member of the CL team, came over to me in the office on Tuesday, quite unexpectedly, to let me know that two ideas I had pitched the magazine were not given the go-ahead. My heart dropped a little bit at the news, but it was only allowed to do so for a second, as my colleague then said how much she appreciate all of my ideas, how I should continue to keep pitching as much as I have done recently, and that she ‘knows talent’ when she sees it. My whole heart exploded. If you don’t work in the writing/magazine industry, you won’t wholly understand how utterly deflating it is to pitch ideas and have them rejected, and, even worse, to not hear back at all. How many of my emails include ‘I’m kindly following up…’ is cringe-worthy. That same day, I was speaking with a family friend via instagram. We were just generally catching up when she said ‘keep going with your own ideas… look at what you have overcome’.
I realised that my own ideas aren’t always on the ball, but they are ideas that I have formed, ideas that I have put forward, and ideas that I can shape and improve upon going forth. Having confidence to pitch ideas is good, but having ideas in the first place is great. Do you know what those two comments made me do? ‘I’m just following up on the above…’ and ‘3 more feature pitches below…’The comment I made to someone else:
I had a relatively cultural day with a girlfriend last Saturday. We met at the Double Exposure exhibition at Claridges ArtSpace, making our way to the breathtakingly beautiful newly-opened Diptyque store on New Bond Street (I may do a Diptyque fragrance edit soon), then to Selfridges (specifically to Prada, for said friend to buy two lipsticks which suited her like nothing I have ever seen before, and secondly for me to try out a couple of fragrances), before heading to The Wallace Collection to see the Flora Yukhnovich and François Boucher display. Somewhere along the way, my friend was telling me about her dream of setting up a lifestyle blog where she will talk about things she gets up to, do travel reviews, restaurant reviews, that kind of thing. I said to her ‘why not? If you want to do something and have the passion and drive to see it through, then it is something you absolutely must do…’ Yes, there is no end to the content that we can consume on the internet, but why should that stop us doing what we want to do? There is space for everyone, and, if you work for it, people will find your space and value your contribution.
I realised that my comment to her was the kind of comment I needed to hear, and sometimes, you need to say something to someone else to actually believe it.
A terribly touristy photograph from The Wallace Collection From childhood: bad comments
As it stands, I am too unknown to have random people commenting bad things to me directly (behind my back is another story), but I can pinpoint a few comments that, though unintentionally said, have stayed with me. The first, as a growing girl in primary school filled with an unwavering self-consciousness that little yellow checked summer dresses brought with them every year. I was tall and chubby, and had been buying up a few sizes for quite a few years. Most of the other girls were waifs, with correct-age dresses that slipped on with ease (with room for manoeuvre) and white patterned socks pulled up to their perfect nobbly knees. I was sat next to a boy, a friend at the time, when, for no apparent reason, he pinched at the fat on on my upper arm - already red from the tight shoulder of the dress - and said ‘the top of your arms are like my whole leg [pointing to his thigh], maybe together.’
The amount of times I have thought about this comment is remarkable. But it is also unsurprising. Take any self-conscious human and ask them if they remember a negative comment that was said to them moons ago, and I bet 90% will say yes, will recite it word for word, and will say it still stings.
A few years ago, I got very sick and ended up in hospital. At one point, I was so small, I could reach my thumb and middle finger around my bicep, and do you know what I thought? God, if only he (the classmate above) could see this. To clarify, my illness wasn’t a consequence of this comment alone, but the comment was one of many that got me to where I ended up. In hindsight, I needed to get sick so that I could figure out my ability to overcome (and the value of my own words), but it was a really, really tough way to do so.Two years ago, a bad comment was said to my face, reminding me (and I directly quote) that I was a ‘very small cog in a big machine’. It wasn’t said to hurt me as such, but it was very much intended to keep me in my place. Two years have passed, and it still stings, but that little sting is the reason I get up and work every day, because it made me vow that I will never be considered a ‘small cog’ in that derogatory way again.
This comment is what I call a ‘log’. It hit me and hurt me, but I gathered it up and threw it straight onto the burning fire that keeps me ambitious and determined. Sometimes, comments are ammunition, but more often than not, it is the receiver who gets to choose what to do with it.
Comments, like any words, are small but mighty. In the world of Substack, comments can be a place to engage with someone you have never met before, to cheer someone on despite not knowing who they are, and to find people who will assure you that whatever you’re doing (as long as it doesn’t harm anyone) is good enough to keep on doing it. In person, comments can mean nothing and yet become everything. I am not without my sins: I judge books by their cover, I make jokes that aren’t PC, and I say things that are stupid and sarcastic, outrageous and silly. But when it comes down to it, doing whatever we can to rememeber to think before we speak is something that will get you much farther in life, because comments can make or break a person, no matter who it is.
