A style god speaks

"You're such an asshole, do you know that?" Helen, the wife of a friend of mine informed me last Friday. Not for the first time either.

"So are you. Everybody is. What's your point exactly?" I said.

"Why did you have to hurt Mel's feelings like that?

"What? She asked us what we thought of her new top. You told her what you thought, your husband told her what he thought and I told her what I thought. What's the big deal?"

"You said she was fat," Helen said.

"No I didn't," I said defensively. "All I said was that I thought the way she chose to wear it was a little inappropriate, and if…"

"Yeah, but listen Do," her husband Declan said, intervening diplomatically. "You of all people should know that the words you use to say one thing can be taken to mean another thing entirely by the person you say them to."

"And whose fault is that?" I asked exasperatedly.

"But can you not see it from her side of things?" Helen continued, a little more calmly, apparently trying to reason with me like I was an eight-year-old child with an only very basic command of the English language. "She's excited about how things are going with this new guy; she buys a new top for their date tonight and calls over to us for a drink before going off to meet him. You're here – which is fine – but then you go and upset her with a stupid, insensitive remark about her weight."

"No, no, no. Hang on a minute. Let's get the facts straight. I did not say one word about her weight. And I don't think she's fat at all. Sure, she could do with losing a few pounds, but so could I. Most people could, it's no biggie. But Mel paraded in here and totally solicited our opinion on her new top. I said it was a nice top, which I meant sincerely – it is quite a nice top – and then, more by way of a tangential comment to the floor if you like, throwing it open for general discussion, I remarked on how curious I found it that people seemed to think that if they saw some celebrity wearing a cool top that it would automatically look great on them too, and how they failed to take into account the yawning gulf there quite often lay between their respective physiques. That's all."

"Which means she's fat," Helen said matter-of-factly."Holy shit. I give up," I said wearily, refilling my glass."How would you feel if someone said the same thing to you then?" Helen asked, trying the shoe-on-the-other-foot angle.

"That wouldn't happen in all fairness Helen," I said, much to her annoyance. "Hold on, let me finish," I pleaded, raising my hand to fend off the recriminations that were heading my way. "I'm not saying I'm a style God or that I'm a perfect male specimen, and nor do I want to be. But for starters, it's slightly different for blokes, you'll have to agree, in that the main area of concern is the old belly, right? Now I've a bit of a belly on me, fair enough. So does Declan, and so does Mel. But where Mel and I differ is that I don't draw unwanted attention to the region by wearing unflatteringly tight shirts or what have you. I've developed this technique you see – fluffing, I call it. I put on my shirt, tuck it tightly into my jeans, and then pull it up a bit all round the waist, thereby cleverly disguising the offending excess baggage. But women, most of them anyway, seem to think that, regardless of their size, a tight top sitting a couple of inches above the waistline is gonna look as good on them as it does on some little whippet of a thing in a magazine who has an army of stylists attending to her every whim. And it doesn't. End of."

"Right. Enough about all that," Declan intervened, keen not to have things go any further downhill than they already were. "What are you doing about Paul's birthday party? What did you get him?"

"What do you mean? I didn't get him anything. He said no gifts."

"Oh my God, I don't believe you," Helen shrieked. "You mean you didn't get him anything?"

"Well done. He said no gifts so I did not purchase a gift. What's the problem?" I said.

"People always say no gifts, but they don't mean it. You have to get him something, you moron," Declan explained.

"Tough shit," I said nonchalantly. "If he wanted a gift he should have said, 'Hey, it's my birthday next week, so we're having a few drinks and a bit of food in my place. And seriously - get me a gift, okay?', and not 'Hey, it's my birthday next week, so we're having a few drinks and a bit food in my place. And seriously – no gifts, okay?' Why can't people just say what they mean, instead of all this coded PC crap?"

"I am so looking forward to tomorrow night," Helen said slyly.