The dos and don't of chatting up people in public

One of the first things you learn at school, apart from the obvious stuff like how to spell your name and what Biff and Chip did at the zoo, is that strangers are dangerous and you should never talk to them.

While apparently sensible advice, this becomes a bit tricky when you’re also meeting a whole bunch of new tiny human beings and trying to strike up conversations over the sandpit. It makes even less sense as you get older and start noticing people across Year 8 discos and pubs and student unions with whom you’d like to do more than just discuss Pokemon and Dexter’s Lab.

The fact is that, sometimes strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet. All your friends were strangers at one point, even the ones it feels like you’ve known forever. Call me Pollyanna but I don’t think we benefit from a world in which we view everyone we don’t know with suspicion.

However, there are ways to go about approaching strangers that are better than others. I get stopped in the street by men quite a lot. This is quite a difficult problem to talk about, because people assume I’m bragging. ‘Oh God, some stranger asked me out again when I was just trying to walk home. Also my bank account is too full, my house is too big, and I’ve been asked to go and address the UN but it’s the same day I’m accepting my Oscar. Why is life soooooooo hard?’

I’ve stopped wondering why this happens and what it says about me. Probably it’s because I’m a young woman who walks around London by myself, and I’m a fairly solid middle range on the attractiveness scale that runs from Quasimodo to Cindy Crawford. I do hope I don’t just have some sign or weird pheromone only men can sense that says, ‘Talk to me, I will definitely have sex with you’.

Being hit on by a random person in the street is not always a problem (at least not when you’re single!) Like I said, not all strangers who approach you are crazy, creepy or trying to sign you up to a cult. Done politely and respectfully, it’s quite flattering. Who doesn’t want to be told that of all the people in the crowd, someone noticed you and was fascinated enough to come up and say hi?

However, done badly and it leaves you feeling pissed off and violated. It feels less like that scene in Les Mis The Movie where Eddie Redmayne spots Amanda Siegfried across the street and is like, ‘MAN ALIVE, I would totally give up my French revolutionising for that babe,’ and more like being the gazelle the lioness has got her eye on in a David Attenborough documentary.

The difference between the two is that the second is not a conversation, it’s a power play. They have an objective (your number, a date, sex, whatever) and the entire point of stopping you is not to open up the possibility of getting it, but to achieve that mission by any means necessary.

These interactions always start the same way. I’m walking down the street in my own headspace, trying to remember the words to Moves Like Jagger or if I bought yogurt the other day, when suddenly example guy runs up and says a variation on the following: ‘Hi, excuse me, I just saw you walking and I had to tell you that I thought you were really beautiful/I really like your eyes/I love your shoes/you look like you want to party.’

Look, I know, I know, ‘Oh poor you.’ Do I think I’m beautiful, have nice eyes or amazing taste in shoes? Well, yes to the third (Converses ftw) but the others, fuck, I don’t have time to worry about it. I’m just reporting the facts here, and these are the lines I get.

So OK, I’m only human, and actually the first few times this happened I was like, ‘Well isn’t that nice?’ Except for the, ‘You look like you like to party.’ Er, I’m carrying a Sainsbury’s bag full of groceries, wearing a huge parka and trying to storm down The Strand. What kind of parties are you going to?

This insincerity is your first sign that they are ticking off The Checklist.

I’m starting to suspect that there is a forum somewhere in the depths of the internet that tells men how to hit on women in the street, and post four is The Checklist. I’m all about helping people overcome shyness to approach others, but this reeks of a predator desperately picking out someone – anyone – so they can go through the motions, get it over with, and maybe get laid.

It goes something like:

• Approach with compliment. It’s OK, you don’t have to mean it. Look at what she’s wearing and go for that.
• Now you have her attention, make sure you get her to stop. You can block her path or touch her. You can even outright demand it. Just make her stop. 
• Now she has to talk to you to be polite, so ask her a question. Try, ‘Where are you from?’ If she asks you to guess, say somewhere sexy, even if it’s blatantly obvious she’s not Italian or Spanish or French. Comment on her clothes. Ask her where they’re from, say you like bright colours/trainers/novelty sunglasses. Again, this doesn't have to be true. Just make sure she can't leave without feeling like a rude person crushing some poor guy's brave soul. 
• Make it clear that you have somewhere to be right now but you are interested in meeting later. 
• If she says she’s not interested, just keep asking her questions. This will prolong the conversation enough to make her desperate to get away from you. 
• Now, ask for her number. If she says no, ask again. She will give in eventually.
• Only back off if she says she has a boyfriend/girlfriend/fiance(e).
• Walk off with her number. Wait five minutes, repeat.

The major difference between the ones you want to date and the ones you want to slap is that refusal to accept no for an answer. I know when you’re not really into the conversation, you’re just ticking off this list because you’re not listening to me.

One of the most frustrating things is that still, in 2016, the quickest way to get a guy to back off is to tell him you have a significant other. To be fair, no one wants to be the person trying to break up a relationship, but often it feels like the reason for this is that you’re showing them a ‘PROPERTY OF’ stamp. It makes you feel like you need to have someone else vouch for you (and they’re probably assuming it’s another guy) for your refusal to count.

One guy told me, ‘I wish you’d mentioned you had a boyfriend earlier, I wouldn’t have talked to you for so long.’ Because apparently I’m only worth talking to if you think there’s some slim chance you’ll get laid. Another wasn’t even put off when I mentioned I had a boyfriend, until I added that ‘He’s in the US Army’. My relationship status – and my now-fiance’s job title and particular set of skills – have nothing to do with whether or not I give you my time.

So given my cynicism, am I saying you should never try talking to someone you fancy in the street? No! I’ve never used Tinder but I think a face-to-face meeting with someone is a much better way of vetting the weirdos and just-completely-incompatibles than looking at a picture on a screen.

So, here are my top tips for chatting up people in the street.

Don’t approach people who are busy
If I am storming through Leicester Square with a suitcase or I’m on my lunchbreak or trying to get on a bus (yes, that happened) I probably don’t want to talk to you right now.

Be honest
If you’re serious about taking this meeting further, don’t big up your job or lie about what you’re doing later. I might not be able to tell now, but this isn’t the best way to start any kind of relationship (casual or whatever).

Don’t touch me

Seriously, you’ve already broken social norms by trying to talk to me, so show that you’re doing this the polite, non-forced way and keep your hands to yourself.

Be open to rejection
I will try to be polite – I’m not out to hurt people and I know it takes effort to approach someone. But I don’t have to give you my time, so don’t be a jerk if I don’t want to talk.

Use your common sense
Everyone has awkward moments but come on, guys. One time I was reading Maya Angelou when a guy came up, said ‘Hi, excuse me, etc’ then asked me what I was holding. I said, a book. His awed response: ‘Wow, for real? I’ve only read Harry Potter.’ Another guy merrily informed me that he was, ‘So high right now.’ In the street at 7pm. Good luck with those life choices, excuse me while I’m heading in the opposite direction.

Talk to me like a human
I once got some insight into pick-up artists from a guy who tried it on in the National Portrait Gallery. I turned him down and called him out on his bullshit. Turns out he was actually doing some class about how to talk to women (nauseating, I know). His view was that we are manipulative monsters out to make men jump through hoops before we consent to sex in order to make them pay for things. Yep. I pointed out that we are actually just people. He didn’t get it. The fact is, I am just a human so talk to me like you actually want to know about me.

Don’t pressure yourself into getting everyone’s number
If we talk and you realise we’re not compatible, you don’t have to get my number: that would count as forcing it. That’s the point of talking! Don’t put that pressure on yourself to follow through with everyone you hit on. You are not somehow less manly because you don’t actually want to sleep with everyone.

Probably some people will still be thinking this whole thing is some weird brag, and I can’t stop that. It’s actually just something that has been part of my life since I moved to London a couple of years ago. I’ve told my fiance about it, even though I imagine sometimes he would probably just rather not know. He’s not happy, just as I would not be super amused to find out that he’s got women throwing themselves at him (Alexa, I’m looking at you) but I know he trusts me. And I’m curious to hear from other people – whatever gender – to find out your take from either side. Does this happen to you? Have you asked someone out in the street? How did it go?

So go ahead and ignore your parents and teachers and talk to strangers. Just do it nicely.

Scary fashion trends to try: You - yes you - can wear orange

Orange coats are so in right now.

Orange is the colour of easyJet, prison jumpsuits, the Netherlands, fish fingers and obviously oranges. As a pasty person, I always avoided orange because it’s this bold, traffic light, look-at-me colour. It’s the same thinking insecure brides use to justify putting their bridesmaids in horrible polyester peach dresses: they don’t want to be outshone by something that’s meant to be on their team. Instead I admired 50 shades of orange from afar, silently giving an approving nod to those courageous individuals totally pulling off burnt embers, marmalades and even rave party neon at 1pm on a Tuesday.

But then February 2016 rolled around and a weird thing happened. The weather had suddenly decided to give us a parting blast of winter and dropped the temperature by 10 degrees. Suddenly, orange was everywhere. Specifically orange coats. Classy macs, padded parkas, trendy cocoons, even capes. Camouflaged among everyone else who went for the sensible, goes-with-everything navy coat at the first bite of winter, I watched these colourful mavericks nonchalantly hopping on buses and strolling the streets, no doubt going somewhere fabulous and exciting in their attention-grabbing gear that defied the grey drizzle.

In 1957 this guy called James Vicary claimed that flashing the words ‘EAT POPCORN’ at people in a cinema more than doubled sales of the snack. A lot of people weren’t having this and he was accused of being a fraud, but probably most of us can admit that at some point we’ve found ourselves buying or thinking about something because we’ve been battered with adverts for it. (I bet you haven't thought about fish fingers in years...) That’s how orange worked for me. Seeing so many people embracing what I always thought was a trend reserved for people who know without googling how to pronounce Moschino (it's a ck not a shh, apparently) spurred me on to open my wardrobe and my heart to this shade.

The final push was seeing my sister Claire casually slipping on a super smart orange mac, the colour of sharon fruit (an actual fruit, not a person). I’ve been hanging on to her fashion coattails since we were kids and she cut up old Tammy Girl socks as sweatbands (trust me, it was all the rage in the early 2000s), so somehow this served as a final tick against the phrase ‘Orange as clothes?’

And then I met the orange jumper. In a last ditch attempt to prove to myself that orange, like cocaine and potholing, was best left to other people, I grabbed a random orange jumper from the men’s section of H&M. And the bastard fit. And, worse, instead of draining my skin of any remaining rosiness like a colour-sucking leech, it actually made me look more alive. It pointed to the bit of pink in my cheeks and went 'Hey, look at this!' It made my eyes look a little bit more blue. It was the wingman my wardrobe had been waiting for.

The ‘money’ part of my brain managed to wrestle the ‘fashion’ and ‘but I want it’ parts down and run away without it, but they launched a war of attrition over the next few weeks. Unfortunately my office is within a lunchtime walking distance of three H&Ms. After visiting the jumper two more times, it ended up on a coat hanger in my packed-out closet.

It didn't stay there. We’re still in the honeymoon phase of showing each other off on strolls along Southbank on sunny weekends and in smug photos on my Twitter profile. We snuggle up for Parenthood binges on rainy evenings. I’m planning on introducing it to more aspects of my life soon, but for now we're finding out what works for us (ice cream necklace: yes; burgundy hat: no).

What I learned from years of being a distant orange admirer and a few weeks of coming out in wild support was that your own personal style needs to be fluid. Sometimes fashion risks strike out. Like that phase when I wore nothing but baby blue tracksuit bottoms with Tammy Girl slogan t-shirts (the early 2000s was a good time for that shop but a bad time for fashion). But if something catches your eye on other people, it's worth being bold.