There’s a scene in the 1996 film Trainspotting, based on the Irvine Welsh novel, and recently resurrected in London’s West End, where the boys ask the girls what they’re talking about, and the girls say, “Shopping!” Their throwaway response is shorthand for “frivolous girly things.” I enjoy conversations, with female friends and Gen Z clients alike, about “frivolous girly things”, except, in therapy, as in Trainspotting, we’re often talking about something deeper as well.
In my early career I had an 18-year-old client called Polly*. She was attractive and always immaculately made-up and fashionably dressed, with fantastic hair. She loved shopping for clothes and would often tell me about her latest buys. Most weeks, Polly complimented something about my appearance:
“You look nice today.”
“I like how you’ve done your hair.”
“Are those new shoes?”
“Nice skirt!”
Most weeks, I complimented her too.
Polly was socially polite, compliant and genial. I liked her, and I liked talking with her about clothes and hair and make-up. We also talked about Polly’s strong need to be “likeable” and her self-identification as a “people pleaser”. She was exceptionally observant, hypervigilant at times, and we explored the ways this linked to her history of trauma.
But Polly noticed me too. With the benefit of hindsight (and experience), I understand Polly’s compliments as communicating something about our relationship that I’d missed an opportunity to explore. She noticed that I bothered to tidy up my hair and think about my clothes before I met with her, which demonstrated that I thought she was worth making the effort for. Her comments could therefore be interpreted as gratitude: “Thanks for caring.” I knew from the stories she shared that not everyone paid her the same level of respect, which was demonstrated in the ways they presented themselves when they met her.
Polly talked about the time she met her mother for coffee. Her mother, was shabbily clad in a tracksuit and trainers but had a dress and sandals in her bag to change into before she went on to lunch with “the girls”. The underlying message was: “You’re not important enough to make an effort for.”
Polly mentioned a tutor who showed her the jacket she’d purchased at lunchtime and quipped that it was much too nice to wear in college. In other words, “It’s much too nice to wear here, with you.”
And I’d heard about the boyfriend who refused to dress up for date nights but had no qualms about doing so for drinks with the boys. The unconscious communication was, “I’m bothered about them more than I’m bothered about you.”
Appearances mattered to Polly; it was a way to express herself and one of the few things she could control. But her compliments about my appearance communicated the importance of what it symbolised about our relationship too. The clues were there all along in what Polly shared with me about her other significant relationships, but I didn’t notice at the time.
So, when Polly complimented how I looked, it wasn’t about me, it was about us. Her unconscious communication was: “I’ve noticed you care about me and our relationship and I’m grateful.” I’ve learnt to be more curious about compliments and ever mindful of the subtleties of both my verbal responses and involuntary facial expressions. These are the unconscious communications that pass between my clients and me when we talk about frivolous girly things.
* Polly, her mother, her tutor and her boyfriend are fictitious composites.
