cool

When I was little, one of my favourite books was Flossie Teacake’s Fur Coat. [Have you read it?]

Flossie Teacake is ten. Her big sister, Bella is eighteen and is everything Flossie wants to be: glamorous; popular; self-assured; and ridiculously cool. One boring afternoon Flossie finds herself in Bella’s room and realises that when she slips on her sister’s old fur coat, she magically transforms into Floz, the tall, funny, confident version of herself that she has always wanted to be.

Flossie gets me thinking about the cool people I know. The really cool ones. Not the icy folk whose clothes are always minimally perfect, who are sparing in their conversation, who actively maintain a veneer of perfection, whose humour comes at the expense of others, and who nominate themselves as Exclusive Keepers of All That is Fabulous.

I mean the really cool people. The folk who you’re always pleased to see, who emanate warmth and happiness, who don’t take themselves too seriously. The people who stay curious [reading and watching and talking widely], who are fascinated by the world and who actively seek out opportunities to share all of the fabulousness they discover.

For me, the really cool folk, the people I tend to gravitate towards, are those who are willingly, bravely [sometimes stumblingly] engaged in working out who they are and what they are doing here.

Now, our friend Flossie found herself in that fur coat. And while I more than understand the boost delivered by a sartorial favourite, I see that sustained coolness requires more. It demands a willingness to engage, to stay open, to think and act broadly, to share with others.

True Coolness requires an attitude to life that says Yes!
[and then asks for more].