THE FIVE BEST COMPLIMENTS I’VE EVER RECEIVED

(and a couple of the worst)

I am trying to teach my daughter how to receive a compliment. It is not something British people are good at. We can dish them out, but when someone says something nice about us, out loud and to our faces, our instinct is to respond with whatever tangential rebuttal springs to mind. You like my dress? I’ll show you the stain where I spilt ketchup all over it. Where did I get my lovely bag? It’s just an ancient charity shop purchase. Oh, you’re interested in my work? PLEASE don’t be, it’s nonsense really.

I do this all the time and I hate myself for it. Because I know that there is only one way to properly respond to a compliment – you just say, ‘Thank you.’

In his excellent book Just Good Manners, etiquette expert William Hanson notes that older British generations ‘may not even heard any praise…for their entire childhood, leading to a lifelong affliction when someone says something nice. Today, most parenting has gone totally the other way, with the child being canonised for brushing their teeth.’ I think this is probably true.

Bunny is 5 and in her short life I have noticed that she has to field compliments a lot more often than her brother. People comment upon the way she looks, behaves, speaks and dresses with abandon. She spends a lot of time hearing from strangers that they consider her to be beautiful. Not to sound ungracious, but it is irritating that girls have to navigate this (and the unspoken expectations about how they look, behave, speak and dress that accompany these well meant compliments) when boys are free to roll around in mud without wasting much time on how people see them. Anyway, this is why we are working on simply saying ‘thank you’ in response. It allows the compliment to be accepted, appreciated even, but it doesn’t open up a long conversation about hair bows or invite rambling monologues of self-deprecation. I am determined not to pass that trait on.

This has led me to reminisce on the best compliments I can remember and it’s an exercise I’d recommend because it’s brought back all sorts of funny memories and reminded me that there is an art to this social skill. Generally speaking, I think a good compliment is when someone notices something in you that you’re striving for, OR when they reveal something lovely about you that you hadn’t noticed yourself. They are really specific and sometimes surprising. ‘You’ve got nice blue eyes’ doesn’t count.

So here are the top 5 compliments I’ve ever received (in no particular order)...

1. You’re Volcanic

Now this could be taken either way. I choose to see it as a positive. It was said to me recently at a work thing where we were in a nightclub at dawn (Tramp, since you ask) and I’d been chatting to a fabulous Italian person and then I had to race off suddenly, so we said a hasty goodbye and he shouted across the crowded room ‘You’re VOLCANIC’ and I was quite taken aback but felt a warm glow nevertheless. Not hot enough to be lava, more like a quick spritz of Deep Heat.

NB, I think complimenting someone by shouting across a room is double points and we should all do this more often. I might even invest in a megaphone.

2. When I became engaged to Kit’s father, we were in our early 20’s and I working at the ad agency J Walter Thompson. It was a halcyon time and many of my best friendships originated in that era. Back then Nick Bell was the Executive Creative Director, but the more important person was his indomitable, hilarious and adored right hand woman, Lady V. I could write thousands of words on how fabulous she is, but this story encapsulates it perfectly. After my engagement was announced, I returned to my desk one afternoon to a gargantuan bouquet of flowers, which I naturally assumed were from my fiancé.

But the card read:

Dear Lucy,

Congratulations on your engagement.

We are all devastated.

Love Nick & The Creative Department

X

The giant floral tribute had all the hallmarks of Lady V’s considerable style. Funny, charming and completely over the top. I’d completely forgotten about this incident until the other day.

I don’t have a picture since so here are some Peonies instead.

3. The other day I overheard my child saying to someone else ‘the thing about Mummy is that she conjures up places that aren’t really real.’ – there’s a long backstory to this comment that I won’t bore you with and I don’t think it was even meant as a compliment, just an observation - but it resonated and gave me clarity on something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.

4. My first boyfriend stayed my boyfriend from ages 16-21. (Now that I’m in possession of a 16-year-old son, this timeframe seems extraordinary, but it didn’t at all then, and we remain friends today). Our first romantic encounter was after a gig (he was in the band, I am a cliché) when he approached me and said ‘I think you’re really fine’ after which we proceeded to snog in a gloriously 90’s Britpoppy manner. Of course, he might have meant Fine as in, OK or tolerable but I chose to interpret it as Fine with a capital F. Like Fine Art, Fine Wine or Fine Liner.

5. Ages ago, when I was at a low ebb and unemployed and had to gather references from old colleagues. It was a reasonably humiliating exercise and I am not very good at asking for things. My former boss, Tom Vick wrote the shortest, most generous note that served not just as a great reference but as a reminder of who I was, when I really needed reminding.

Lucy Clayton is a class act. She is loved equally by clients and colleagues...her only weakness is her craving for a McDonald’s after a heavy night out. But she’s only human. I’d hire her again in a shot.

Ever since, I’ve thought of ‘class act’ as the ultimate compliment in any context. I don’t think I always manage it, but I’m always trying.

And what’s the worst? Well, I’m a grownup so I’m sure there’s an encyclopaedic quantity of unpleasant things people have said to me over the years, but the two that stick in the mind are 1) when my then husband referred to me as a Cost Centre 2) when someone I was vaguely dating ditched me before I could ditch him with the line: ‘I think you’re a seven and a half out of ten. On a good day.’ Golden. Happily, a culture where dismissals came with scorecards are a thing of the past, but that conversation still makes me laugh on a regular basis.

I absolutely recommend doing an audit of top lifetime compliments if you need a bit of a boost or some nostalgic amusement. It’s a great dinner conversation theme. I’ve just asked my son what’s the best one he’s ever had, and he answered, ‘A girl once said she wouldn’t be surprised if I could tame a bear.’

I hope he said thank you.

Lx