Fashionably Fed-Up!

On a busy commuter train home from London the other evening I overheard a fascinating conversation between two middle-aged guys.
One was telling the other how he had been out in a bar the previous evening, and an attractive vivacious woman he had never met before came up to him completely out of the blue and openly asked him if he was a Londoner.
Before he could answer she said, "You must be, you look fed-up."

People pre-suppose the hypothesis that smiling is good for you because it makes you appear more attractive!
I suppose it is probably safe to say smiling temporarily relieves stress, and by smiling it in turn raises the cheekbones and reduces that wrinkled effect on the face that tends to be associated with a puckered brow.

I presume the logic behind this theory emanates from the hip, sun soaked, well chiselled plastic fantastic inhabitants of Cali-for-ni-a, who have never done the 'commuting lark' on a daily basis!

Some of the world's so called most attractive men are a bunch of cantankerous morose individuals.
Take actors Clive Owen and Colin Firth, or ex-Chelsea boss Jose Mourinho. They all have contorted faces that ooze pain and anguish, as if they are required to help solve or ease the issues of third world debt!

Some of the world's most gorgeous or lusted after women have or have had partners with visibly grumpy faces.
Look no further than Madonna's hubby Guy Richie or Kate Moss's ex squeeze Pete Doherty and her latest flame James Hince. All of them sour faced and glum looking.

So perhaps smiling is 'overrated.'

If you go to a bar in London and stand there looking bored, at best irritated you become the 'object of desire' - sophisticated, powerful with an air of supremacy.
It has almost become acceptable to display an aloofness towards someone who has caught your eye by pretending not to notice them or by ignoring them. A form of reverse psychology.

Perhaps 'rejection is fast becoming an aphrodisiac'

So if your keen look mean!

Now I don't smile a great deal myself and I know this for a fact because for years it has been remarked upon, although more often than not it has been done so in a polite manner rather than a vulgar or critical one.

So after hearing this two-way conversation on the chuffer, on my arrival home I immediately headed straight for the bathroom.
I turned on the light switch above my shaving mirror rather than the main one.
I feel it works as a safety net mechanism by diluting the intensity of what the main light might reveal.
However I still couldn't hide from my reflection. I was indeed looking awful - gaunt, haggard, drawn, ghost like, macabre!

Yes I WAS definitely looking at the 'epitome of a native Londoner.'