Solicited for sex

In reflection, the entire escapade remains absolutely ridiculous ... humiliating but hilarious. It also caused some second thoughts for the parable -- you never get a second chance to make a first impression. First, the story.

While shopping, I was solicited for sex.

For illustrative purposes, envision a 19-year-old girl in a basic black pea coat buttoned up, a knee-length black skirt and clogs. My hair fell loosely down my back, and I had woken up late, so I wasn't wearing much makeup. Spending the day at Pacific Place with two girlfriends, I wandered the expensive floors and gazed at styled storefront displays, gossiping and laughing. After some time, I buddied up with my partner-in-crime and crossed the skybridge to use the bathroom in Nordstrom.

A man leaned against the windows, and I noticed him immediately. He approached us, ending our conversation; the click-clack of his shoes echoed. Then his hand clawed around my elbow, and I turned to a round, aging Asian face with cracked lips, querying, "Are you Swedish?"

Just that question, "Are you Swedish?" It seemed like an ironic question, but I answered yes, and he motioned his index finger in and in. He blinked beady eyes up at us, and, like a dealer, flipped open a wallet, shuffling $100 bills at us. "Five enough? Six? Seven?" his fingers handling the horde in our faces.

I realized the proposition.

I gasped, sputtering, "WHAT?!" and I looked at my friend, she looked at me, and we turned on our heels and ran into the bathroom.

Door slam. Omigod! I paced the length of the stalls.

And so, my horror, naturally felt by an upper-middle-class Seattle-raised-and-UW-educated student, seemed justified.

I am NOT a prostitute.

Therefore, the first question raised in my mind remains: Do I LOOK like a prostitute?

Did my conservative black pea coat and skirt deceive me? Or did my attire perhaps only indicate that one's appearance has nothing to do with how one is perceived?

After this incident -- which I have now told, retold and laughed about -- I sat down and wrestled with the challenged parable that I had before believed to be reality. You never have a second chance for a first impression, and so that first impression should show what it is that constitutes you.

For example, don't wear a prom dress on a first date, or greasy ripped jeans to meet your fiance's parents. Negative and/or positive images will forever stain others' impressions of you with negative/positive colors. Most of us can recall a time when we've felt our appearance was incorrect for the environment: a formal event, meeting someone important for the first time, a date, first day of school, first day of work, an interview, etc.

However, can my outward appearance somehow paint a picture of my personality that will differentiate me from any generalizations attributed to me due to my hair color, age or whatnot? Yes, I've decided it can.

For, a few months ago, I confronted this issue in the hallway of the Everett District Court House, waiting for a hearing for that I-was-only-going-six-over speeding ticket. While there among a multitude of groaning and griping boisterous bodies, I couldn't help but overhear the conversations and comments. I primarily watched a loud-mouthed girl a few years in my senior.

She was the most entertaining because of her frequent high-pitched swearing spells accompanied by her arms thrown in the air and her eyes rolling. She tapped her right foot incessantly, wearing soiled hot-pink jellies ripped at the heels, and exposed chipped greenish polish on grubby toes. Her gray sweatpants had grass stains, and a red-and-purple plaid flannel loosely encircled her bulb-shaped waist. Topping off the look was a red silk V-neck shirt. Hair, obviously dyed a Dolly Parton shade of blonde, revealed dark natural roots as it hung around her face, where her chin quivered side to side following her lips' angry exclamations and leaps from the chair.

She is the one who gives blondes a bad name, I thought. She probably works at K-mart and is bitter at the world. She probably does it no good, either, because she's probably an uneducated mother on welfare, or drunk, or ... and then I stopped myself.

How could I think these thoughts?! How can I judge another like that? Am I really that superficial? I know nothing about this person, aside from her clothing (she could have woken up late), her appearance (maybe her power was out and she couldn't shower) and her heated discourse.

Therefore, what am I to know but this: the saying stands true. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, so take care of what you wear, say or do.