But What Does It Say?

There are a few new theories out there that we need to discuss. We all know by now that we’ve always loved a little outside help figuring out who we are, especially when we get to consult our zodiac signs and have something (or someone) to blame for our behavior. But lately, I’ve noticed we’re looking for that same insight in some ridiculous places...

To back up a bit, we’re downright suckers for anything that promises to explain us to ourselves. Astrology. Whether we’re an INFJ or an ENFP. A stranger online correctly assigning personalities to our entire Friend group based on everyone’s favorite pasta shape or bar. I’m a “Campaigner,” according to 16Personalities, which is one way to say I can turn choosing a restaurant into a full PR pitch (which isn’t untrue... ). A company I used to work for even hired a therapist to assign us each a bird and explain how our strengths and weaknesses affected the way we worked together. Imagine four weeks of people saying, “I’m an eagle with a raven rising and an owl moon, so, in conclusion, I need everyone to stop putting meetings on my calendar that could’ve been emails.”

There is something comforting about finding words for parts of ourselves we’ve never known how to explain. Having so many ways to explore why we react, communicate or connect (or avoid) the way we do can help us recognize what we need—and what we might need to work on.

And other times, it’s fun, harmless nonsense.

For example, I can’t order a margarita anymore without thinking about what that apparently says about me as a person, according to hundreds of people I’ve never met on TikTok.

My feed is full of people explaining what my cocktail order says about me. As well as my favorite TV show, my coffee order and my favorite vegetable. We are dangerously close to making vegetables the new astrological signs, and I’m not ready to find out I’m incompatible with someone because of asparagus.

And sometimes? It’s alarmingly accurate. I’ll watch one and feel personally investigated. Others are completely ridiculous, although I suspect my willingness to accept the description I’m assigned depends on how amazing it makes me sound. Tell me my In-N-Out order suggests excellent taste, and suddenly I believe in research.

I understand the entertainment value. You couldn’t pay me to scroll past a “what your favorite reality show says about you” without checking the accuracy like I’m reviewing lab results. I’m amused. I’m participating. But I think we’ve started giving ordinary preferences a little too much responsibility.

A drink explains our entire personality. A favorite workout reveals our interior design aesthetic. For women, a hairstyle has to place us in the right category of woman (apparently, there’s another new theory about slicked-back-bun girlies, with a separate personality assigned to those who skip the middle part). A favorite show reveals our emotional baggage, which is a lot to learn about someone who just needed something to watch while eating dinner alone from the couch on a Thursday night.

Can I join a gym without learning something about my attachment style and what it would be like to date me? Or crave a margarita without someone identifying which parent I’m still trying to impress? I wanted something with tequila in it, not an explanation of why I am the way I am. Apparently, ordering a French 75 makes you the mayor of Chic City, and me wearing a vanilla-based perfume means I’m warm and approachable (depending on the day, it only means the salesperson at the Bloomingdale’s counter is great at her job).

Is there anything I can order or wear that won’t be used to rate my personality?

And once you start anticipating all these judgemental interpretations, choosing things gets annoyingly complicated. Last year, a close family Friend and her fiancé went around in circles over their wedding entrance song because of what each option would “say about them as a couple.” You know, the song the newlyweds dance their way into the reception to while everyone cheers and someone’s uncle whistles way too aggressively? Kanye’s “Gold Digger” drew some strong opinions from his parents (fair). But choosing a song had turned into deciding how they wanted everyone to perceive their marriage. That’s a lot of responsibility for a DJ playing a 20-second audio clip.

Remember the good ol’ days of the early 2000s, when every library poster and cute PSA commercial told us to be ourselves and stop caring what people thought—as long as we looked like Keira Knightley in ultra-low-rise jeans? Kidding, but if you were there, you know. Now we have social media videos telling us exactly what our strengths and flaws are all based on the things we like.

Of course, impressions exist and they matter. I’m not suggesting we go to a job interview wearing whatever is comfiest and expect everyone to see nothing but our qualifications for the job. Meeting someone’s parents deserves extra consideration, too. There are definitely occasions when putting thought into how we dress, what we order, what we say and how we engage with others shows we understand the importance of the impression we’re making.By now, we’ve all seen the viral iced coffee debate, but for those of you with lives who don’t know what I’m talking about: a few job recruiters sparked the conversation by arguing that bringing an iced coffee to a job interview makes you seem less serious about the opportunity, as though it’s just another stop on your errand run. Obviously, the internet has taken the last few days to discuss.

I understand this, but to an extent. Some argue that bringing any beverage to an interview is out of the question, while others say water or hot coffee makes you a more professional candidate. I just can’t help but think that there’s a difference between questioning someone’s judgment in a specific setting and deciding that their latte tells you everything you need to know about their work ethic.

I’d want to see whether they come prepared, ask thoughtful questions and follow through before deciding how seriously they take their work (rattling their ice cubes and slurping through my questions might test my generosity though... ). Give me that to go off of, and we can probably stop investigating their coffee.

It’s how we form opinions about the people we know well, too. I think of one of my closest Friends who always hosts gatherings as generous because she keeps making room for so many at her table. We all probably have that one family member that is really thoughtful because they remember everyone’s favorite dish and make it when they visit. We know a colleague is smart because he asks the question nobody else thought of (even with an iced coffee in his hand). And the Friend we all have who’s always late has left us waiting long enough to form an opinion.

Those impressions have history behind them. They come from experiencing people and noticing how it feels to be around them.

I’d like to give that information more weight than whatever we’ve collectively decided a martini means. So if you’re craving a deeply un-chic piña colada while everyone else is ordering negronis, get the little umbrella and enjoy yourself.Because when preferences become signals to other people, even enjoyment starts requiring strategy. You can end up ordering the drink that suits the person you’d like to resemble instead of the drink you actually want. Then you have to sit there drinking it. Which, in my opinion, is a terrible way to spend $20+ in LA.

I want to put thought into the things that affect the people around me: whether I’m attentive, whether I’m considerate, whether I leave them waiting. And I can keep the rest in perspective without consulting the imaginary audience in my head over every small decision.

Sometimes a preference reveals something profound about someone. Sometimes a dirty martini just hits and it isn’t much deeper than that.
—Your Friend