Meaningless blather, plus color theory.

Though there are times I get all Cherubic (or Djinny), by basic temperament I cross between Mercurian and Impudite. I strive to Mercurianish in my day to day dealings with the world -- recognizing relationships, connecting with people, opening dialogues and making connections -- but sometimes I just get charming and me-centered. C'est bien. It works for me, mostly.

However, there's an odd bit of truth I've discovered from this process. It's one of those things I have on good authority men don't understand or get. In fact, it's supposed to be part of the intersexual mindfield.

Namely... I get asked my opinion about things like clothing. By women. And I answer honestly. And everyone seems happy with that arrangement.

I've taken the time to learn a few things about skin tone and color theory. Why? Because I'm a writer, and I've found its easiest to convince an audience that my brunette lead with the pale skin and the ice blue eyes attracts positive attention if I don't put her in flat black or bright orange.

(For the record, said lead would likely be a summer, and would look best in pastels and soft neutral colors. If her eyes were dark instead of pale, she'd kick over to a winter, and would look good in stark colors like white, black, navy or even shocking pink. In no case would you put either of these women in camel, gold or brown -- but a natural redhead with deep brown eyes would make camel look stunning. No, I'm not gay.)

Here's the thing. I know think kind of thing. I pay attention to what people wear. And I have a habit of commenting. "Oh, that's a nice blouse on you -- the purple really brings out your eyes," or "oh, that jacket plays off your hair well." Now, complimenting people is its own reward, of course -- and certainly makes you popular. However, by showing I know a thing or three about this stuff, I seem more engaged than if I'd just said 'oh, you look nice.'

And, when one of these folks says "hey -- do you think this shirt works on me?" I can answer honestly, and not get in trouble. "Mm -- I think it's the wrong shade of blue. I like the cut, though." Or the like.

Don't get me wrong. I understand the game. If a smoking hot chick in a black miniskirt turns and poses and says "does this make my butt look big," the last thing she wants to hear is "well, no, but it makes you look like you sprayed your tan on. You want something in a peach." But more often than not, when a woman wants to know if a sweater works, it's because she actually wants to know.

The other side of all this is, you actually get good at buying presents. I got my sister a charcoal grey turtleneck sweater, because I know A) that charcoal works on her, and B) she likes that kind of sweater. She was a little bit stunned on Christmas, because... well, it wasn't something for her computer, but it was something she'd actually wear.

And, of course, it means shopping's a lot more fun. Because you get to have opinions. Those opinions are considered to have merit. And if you then suggest replacements, the woman is far more likely to try them on and model them for you.

And that? Rocks. I totally have to bring Weds shopping.