Elegant Elegance

“No really. I think he’s elegant.” I maintained.

And I did. I really thought my friend’s boyfriend was elegant. Sure pizza was his favorite food. And maybe he did live in jeans, a black polo and a pair of boots. But he was the type of man who really listened when people talked, and he opened doors and pulled out chairs and let ladies go in front of him in line with the same ease that other men cheer for their favorite NFL team.

I’m always impressed by elegant people. He’s not alone.

I know another elegant person. A woman who is my friend’s neighbor. She’s petite and pretty and incredibly smart. Her home is filled with one-of-a-kind pieces of African art, and I think her daughter will learn to play the harp. Yet with all this elegance, people are drawn to her. She accepts them with genuine kindness and interest. And she’s approachable. I’ve actually heard her say, “I have to pee” and I’ve seen her in public with wet hair.

So why my current fixation on elegance?

I attended a book club last week. BY FAR, it was the best book club I’ve ever attended. I swore off reading many years back. I have perfect intentions of reading intelligent meaty things, like Ghost Wars, a 30-year look at our international relations with Afghanistan. But in truth, the books I finish are pure fluff. 100% brainless chicklet reading. I’m a binge and purge type reader. Once I start, I simply cannot stop, and all life around me falls apart. So it’s best I don’t start.

However, after Monday, I decided I’m going to give it a try again. I’m going to look for short stories and poetry. Maybe these limited portions of interesting literature will help me actually better myself and curb my fall-off-the-wagon approach to reading.

“Shall we annex another table for our group?”

The leader of our book club actually asked this question.

“Annex.”

That was the word she used.

“Annex.”

And this word was said in relation to a wooden picnic table.

That was the moment I knew. She is an elegant lady.

At first glance, she didn’t look particularly elegant. She was simply dressed in a floral print t-shirt and shorts. She had high cheekbones and trendy glasses, and month after month, she leads an Austin book club that’s had a loyal following for years now.

But her comfortable use of educated words tells me…she’s elegant. And wow, she has a gracious mannerism that puts people at such ease to talk, that I found myself telling this group of complete strangers misgivings I have about my current state-in-life. I’ve not even had the courage to admit these fears out loud to myself. I don’t remember their names. And yet, I told them my heart.

So my question is this, “What makes elegance elegant?”

I’ve met some who make an attempt at elegance. They drink wine and use big words, and yet it’s as though they are wearing clothes that don’t quite fit. They come off snobbish and awkward.

I’ve met people who are quite comfortable and endearing. They are warm and welcoming. But they are simple and straightforward. Life is utilitarian to them.

So what makes elegance elegant? Perhaps it is the steady employment of dreams in a life of reality. The constant recognition of beauty in the mundane. The practice of polite kindness until it is no longer scripted. The genuine interest in the diversity of others. The validation of their worth and contribution, however small.

Is it an instinctive talent or a cultivated habit?

For my sake, and for yours, if ever our paths cross, I hope it’s the latter.

Because, although I don’t know your name, I’ll tell you my heart.

I want to be elegant.