Jennifer Silverman
One of my favorite college professors observed a long-held tradition each semester. She concluded her final exam with a single inquiry to students, “What will you remember most from this course?”
My professor was a proponent of taking nothing at face value. Thinking along those lines, I eventually settled on a phrase she had scrawled across the whiteboard months earlier: “Once a liar, always a liar.”
I’m not exactly sure why this cautionary tidbit resonated over boatloads of factoids. Maybe her disdain for liars made a lasting impression. Maybe the simplicity of her wise words emphasized that old habits die hard. Maybe I had a hunch her assertion would someday come in handy.
So, like countless fashionistas before me, I made a pledge to the fashion gods to not become a liar – to honestly do no harm, sartorial or otherwise. When I became a TV wardrobe stylist, I honed my ability to diplomatically refrain from lying.
“Does this outfit make me look fat?” This dreaded inquiry has long plagued any poor soul tasked with responding. The tricky probe is bound to do harm, likely resulting in either misleading advice or diminished self-esteem. In my professional experience, the correct answer is neither “yes” nor “no.”
When tackling this question, I typically opted to redirect and build self-confidence: “It doesn’t do you justice. We can do better.” “A defined waist would look fabulous on you. Let’s try this instead.” “That hue really brings out your eyes, but this alternative is more your style.”
In retrospect, the considerable reflection required for me to avoid being deceitful seemed to spur increased conviction. Consequently, I cannot recall even one occasion in which a client questioned my retort on the “fear of looking fat” front.
I often thought back to my professor’s quote and wondered about her message. Obviously, the straightforward interpretation also has merit. When we lie, we may betray a trust, and that betrayal is typically forever. It can be mended or forgiven, but it’s rarely forgotten.
The truth of the matter is that we all lie, but it’s not all bad. Case in point, each of us encounters the greeting, “How are you?” on the regular. If we’re enduring a crummy day, a headache, or a bad haircut, we seldom volunteer that confession. Instead, we remark that we’re “fine” or “good” or “not bad.”
On the rare occasions in which a respondent does cop to their discontent, our uncertainty about how to respond often makes for awkward interactions. Are we wrong to avoid divulging our innermost thoughts when we’re not inclined to do so?
If I make like my professor and eschew face value in favor of a deep dive, the practice of lying isn’t always what it seems. Lying to protect, spare feelings, or encourage is not tantamount to malice or deceit. So, what’s the takeaway?
Perhaps my professor’s cryptic statement about lying was actually an attempt to remind her students that things are rarely black and white. I have a hunch she was endeavoring to expand our thinking, encouraging us to not blindly embrace information sans examination, and to form our own opinions.
Twenty years ago, my college professor planted a seed to impart a life lesson. I suppose this article marks the culmination of a lengthy, twenty-year assignment. (Here’s hoping I aced it.)
Jennifer Silverman has served as a celebrity wardrobe stylist for hundreds of TV personalities and professional athletes. A few of her favorite projects include the Olympic Games and the Oscars. Silverman and her Westie, Petunia, relocated from Manhattan to Amelia Island in 2019. Additional quirky commentary penned by Silverman is available by visiting www.CuriousColumnist.com Email her at Jennifer@CuriousColumnist.com