Snappy Answers runs every Saturday afternoon. Send your questions, be they tough or trivial, to [email protected].
Yesterday I saw three different girls in the exact same pair of gladiator sandals. Serious gladiator sandals, too: mid-calf height and made of some kind of snakeskin. I love them, but is too late to get my own? Should I just wait for the next major sandal trend (what is the next major sandal trend)?
Oh, the Jeffrey Campbell ones from Brown’s? We keep seeing those too, and wondering if the magazine-trendy girls wearing them really want strappy tanlines from ankle to knee. The grilled effect works better on your veggie burgers, no?
We like gladiators with ruffled miniskirts, and more importantly, on the kind of legs that look good in ruffled miniskirts, as flat knee-high sandals are remarkably stumpifying. If you’re not extremely slender-calved, you might want to pass. Plus, with the “urban warrior” look catching on quicker than a Rihanna single, it is, as you suspect, a bit late to join the fray.
Unless, of course, you’re ready to take it to the next level. Thigh-high zebra-print gladiators, perhaps? Go big or go back to ballet flats.
My boss just joined Facebook and has an open profile. I’ve already seen photos of him lounging in his metallic blue Speedo in Cayo Coco, so he can’t be that particular about his privacy. Would it be unprofessional to add him?
Take a lunchtime survey of your coworkers: do they have your boss (or their bosses) on Facebook? If not, would they add him? Our algorithm of Facebook adds, carefully developed over months of office boredom, dictates that a minimum of seven mutual friends is required before making that first move. (Note: does not apply to real-life relationships, in which case seven mutual friends is just bad luck.)
Also, you can’t assume that just because he has an open profile, he’s aware he’s baring his thighs to the world; maybe no one’s told him how to change those privacy settings (or his taste in swimwear).
And lastly, consider your mini-feed activity. Do you really want the boss man to know how much company time you spend commenting on a play-by-play photo album of your girlfriends double-fisting Jagerbombs? We didn’t think so.