Doug Allen

I've never felt there was much I could do about making love happen, that is, getting the goods delivered to my door when I needed it. I knew there was some complex mix between how I was feeling, what I was doing, the state of my own demons, and the possibility of finding a girlfriend. When I tried to force things, went about seeking a mate, the results were stilted, inauthentic, unsatisfying, and I learned, over years, it was better for me to tend my own small vegetable patch and await better days.

Doug Allen

This is how I thought most people did it. I forget — I often do — that this is 1991 and that I live in America, which means: "WHY WAIT? YOU WANT IT? WE GOT IT. WE ARE WHEELING, WE ARE DEALING. CASH, CHECK, OR CREDIT CARD."

Doug Allen

Which is another way of saying I recently attended the Singles Expo and Lifestyle Show held at the Red Lion Hotel and Convention Center. I was curious, is mating susceptible to commerce?

Doug Allen

Can you reduce love to a consumer purchase, complete with monthly payments? And the real, driving question: Could I have made my own, fairly long, fairly painful hitchhike any easier?

I was advised to take a shower before I went.

The singles' expo is set up like any auto, boat, or RV show. One walks through Red Lion's lobby into a large, windowless showroom.

Doug Allen

First booth is somebody's dating service, "Enter here to win,” which I did. Next, a sign informs me to "Stop, Take Control Of Your Life." It's empowerment superstar Anthony Robbins's line of self-help books, audio and video tapes. I ask late-20s, short-haired male, "How does Tony relate to singles? I thought he did pop-shrink stuff.”

Doug Allen

"If you had the power to attract the person of your dreams, wouldn't that be powerful?"

"I guess it would."

Doug Allen

A tinge of New England slides out from beneath a mole brown mustache. "Basically, this is a seminar that covers love and attraction strategies.

Doug Allen

"But it's only 1116th of the seminar. It's communicating with others on their level. Certain people, if you speak loudly and scream, they'll communicate well, but if you speak silently they won't. The teaching is how to recognize 'em, just by looking at somebody, from afar or at a meeting or anything. Thirty-day program, $180. We're raffling it off free today.”

I always like to know how people find these jobs. "Have you been doing this for a while?”

"Four or five months. A year ago, that's when I first saw Anthony Robbins on TV. It took me watching that commercial three times before I bought this. I was skeptical. And I did it, and it turned my life around completely. I was unemployed back East. He gave me the courage to move out here.”

"Thanks,” already shuffling along. Let's see, here's Thomas Cooke vacations. Now Single World Cruise and Tours. Now La Jolla Cosmetic Surgery Centre, a jewelry booth, Balboa Travel. Voice from Athletic Singles outpost disturbs me. "Come on over and talk to me. What are you doing here?” "Just a happy consumer."

"You gotta talk to me because I'm unique, there's nothing else like what we're doing. There's no competition."

"What do you do?"

"We are the most active club in Southern California, three locations. We started out in San Diego in 1987. We've got 500 members in San Diego alone. And it's just a nice group of people. Healthy, active, nonsmoking almost exclusively. We've got ten events a week."

Next stop is Americana Creations, then a poster announcing business opportunities, another declaring, "distributor wanted." I pass 900 Photo Club, "Dating for the Nineties." Then on to "Tired of Singles Bars?" Then it's time for a "Girls Nite Out. California's hottest all male revue...."

Roam about convention center floor assaulted by hawking voices crying out, "Are you single? Are you single?"

During the last hour an old, squat lady, very small, very unattractive, asks me to lunch, twice, breaks my heart.

So far, most vendors I've talked to have been in business four months and seem to be running their lemonade stands out of an answering machine and an apartment. Well, why not? A glimmering poster announces Judy Knoll, Singles Advisor. I'll discover how to "Write and answer ads. Write a letter that gets a response. Make your first telephone call. Handle your first meeting and much more."

It's irresistible. I approach, ask singles' advisor, "If I was going to a dating service, would I come to you first and have you write my personal profile?"

"I could help you write it, yes. I know a lot of people so I could direct you to what's better for you because everybody is different, and different things work for different people. I'm kind of like a troubleshooter. I would find exactly what direction you should go in, and I could end up saving you money."

"How long have you been at this?”

"About 18 years."

"Good Lord." Arrange an interview for the following day.

Across the hall, in meeting rooms, several invited speakers are giving "seminars" ABSOLUTELY FREE to the American public. I'd attended the preview, arriving four days ago for a press reception given by the Publicity International Agency.

It was a fulsome evening, about a half-dozen press gather in San Diego Room. At the dais are guest speakers introduced by a male PR spokesman who speaks with a smooth, modulated voice. "The singles' expo is targeted for a market no one else is serving. There are bridal expos and senior citizens' expos and athletic conventions, but the singles' market isn't being served. We discovered there's a need for this, as our complete sellout of exhibitor space has proven. The U.S. Census Bureau estimates one out of four households is a single person, 65 million Americans. So it's a wide age range, from college students to senior citizens, and many have very flexible incomes.

"So this serves a unique marketing niche....

"We have with us some well-known guests who are speakers at the expo. Let me start down here. This is Dr. John Wingo. His subject will be 'Are you ready for a committed relationship?' He is president of a well-known international matchmaking service." TUrns to Wingo, "You were telling me some people have paid upwards of $100,000 to find their mate. Very interesting person to talk to.

"Next is Dr. Loretta Ferrier, founder of Interpersonal Psychotherapy, has a book forthcoming from Simon and Schuster on how to unleash the passion within. Her topic is 'Keep the Passion Alive.'

"Next in line here with the bright red hair is Victoria Parker. President of Great Expectations Video Dating firm. President, actually, of the franchise owners' associations of all Great Expectations across the country, the nation's largest video dating firm. She is currently touring with the topic 'How to Flirt for Romance, Fun, and Profit.'

"And on the far end, in red, is Kathy Finn, director of Executive Images, a consulting firm that teaches people how to look their best and be their best and dress for success. Personal image is her topic at the expo. So that will be fun. Anyone have any questions? Yes."

Male voice, must be a ringer, cuts through, "For the redhead. Could you ask her what she's doing later tonight?"

"Ha, ha, ha. No, I don't want to get slapped. Ha, ha, ha."

So here we are, four days later, and here is Mr. Wingo speaking in one of the "seminar rooms," asking the seminal question, "Are you ready for a relationship today, if the right person comes along? Are the rest of you not necessarily searching? If it happens, okay, but I'm not at the point of my life where I'm looking for something. How many of you are more like that?" A dozen hands go up. "Are you in a situation where day to day in your career situation, you are simply not meeting many prospects of the opposite sex? Raise your hands." A few tentative hands go up.

"It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with us. You've got to be exposed in order to connect, period. And I have real trouble with these people that say, when they come to us, 'What's wrong with me?' That is absolute baloney. Most people come to us because if you don't meet them, how can you connect with them? That's the first thing. Secondly, our clients on average will put in more hours during their workday. They're generally above average in terms of successful by whatever definition. How many of you work more than the average number of hours?" Many hands wiggle. "You people will have more trouble because you have less time available in your personal life.

"Now how many of you just love to meet people in smoky bars?" Laugh, laugh, laugh. "So, the people who come to us have these factors going for them. They're not interested in going into a bar setting to meet singles."

I lurch back to the expo showroom feeling better because I'm more successful, I work more than the average person, and I no longer go to smoky bars to meet singles.

Back on the trading floor, the pace is picking up. It's afternoon and significantly more and younger people are coming in. Guys in pleated slacks, hideous golfing T-shirts, women in polyester everything. Little piggies coming to market.

What's this? An executive seminar for business and social etiquette. That I like. Next booth hawks singles' jewelry. Earrings, necklace, each with large letters spelling out the word "S-I-N-G-L-E."

Loudspeaker's voice overhead soothes, "... a personal matchmaker who believes intuition is the key to finding the perfect soul mate. She also offers Abdula for her black friends and senior counselors for her older clients. She feels she can usually find your soul mate in four introductions."

Matchmaking service has 4-by-4 bulletin board offering photographic testimonials. "Linda and Nelson, they're engaged 12/15/90. Teresa & Matt. Success 9/19/90. Melba and Woody 11/20/90." Hand scrawled People's Exhibit A, "To Whom It May Concern At Connections: Who would have known. I've been in the program three weeks and Marshall has been in it for two weeks and we've decided to go inactive as of today. What more can we say, it's too good to be true."

Turn corner, find John Wingo working his booth.

"You're one of the more expensive, right?"

"Well, we've been told we're the most expensive on the planet. I don't know if I like that or not, but the average fee is about seven or eight thousand dollars. We charge up to $150,000 on some occasions. So it's usually pretty exotic stuff there when we get in that range."

"Say, for 10,000 what can you deliver?"

Laugh. "Well, I'll give you an idea. Let's suppose you're available for one long weekend, a Friday through a Monday. And you wanted to meet some attractive ladies and you were 45 years old. Let's suppose we agreed they would all be in their 30s, 30 to 39. Much above average in terms of attractiveness. They have to like the out-of-doors, or the arts, or they couldn't have any kids. And then, for anywhere from $16,000 on up, we would arrange for you to meet 6 or 8 or 10 or 12 or more women depending on what we've generated, but at least 6 over that long weekend. And what you've done is - honestly, those weekends are deadly effective."

"How is that arranged? Do I get a hotel room, go to coffee dates?"

"You can do whatever, whatever you're comfortable with. They're not going to come up to your hotel room."

"No, no. I didn't mean that. I was just trying to think how anybody could fit in all those people. Just the mechanics of it."

"Well, for instance, I fly in tonight to San Francisco, and I will have dinner about 9 o'clock. I will hand the customer a statement, and he has nine appointments in the next three days. We've got the women spotted so they got a late morning, kind of a brunch appointment, midafternoon for a glass of wine, and a glass of wine could turn into something, then a light dinner meeting. So he'll see three a day for the subsequent three days. His cost will be $18,000 plus expenses for that program."

"How long have you been in business?"

"Summer of '83. Started then but got pumped up and serious about it towards the end of '85 because we did executive search and this overlapping for about two years. I was a college professor before then."

Up the aisle from Dr. Wingo is Larry Lutzke of the Single in San Diego tabloid. "Guaranteed A Clean Paper Or Your Money Back." I pick up the publication, remark, "I haven't seen this around."

Tired, angry voice, "Most post offices, we have a rack. What part of town do you live in?"

"I work downtown."

"We can't keep ahead of street people downtown. It's murder."

"How long have you been in the singles' business?"

'"Twenty-six years. You get the hang of it."

"Jesus. So how do you feel about all these other people?" Nod to hall filled with vendors.

"In 30 years I've probably seen two or three thousand coming through. I was the first guy to hold a singles' dance publicly, 1946. I used to get calls from ministers and priests. They said, 'The wrong people are going to come.' You know who the wrong people are? Somebody you don't know. Which is what you're looking for, ain't it? You don't want to meet the same old crap again. The first singles' club in San Diego started at the San Diego Hotel basement, it was called the Beta Beta Club."

Three days later, over coffee at the Bridal Lace Bakery, Lutzke shows me his August 71 edition of San Diego Singles. I glance through announcements, "The Mixer Club, Saturday Night Singles Dances, membership dues; five bucks for twelve months, buck fifty per activity, two fifty for nonmembers. Friday Evening Singles Dance at the Cotillion Ballroom, El Cortez Hotel. Friday Night Lecture Social. Monday Caucus, Casual Discussion Group, Divorce Anonymous. Uptown's Singles Club Sunday Night Dances, Uptown Hall, 2927 Meade Avenue, North Park."

I ask, "How was the Uptown Hall scene?"

"Of all the social clubs I ran, more lasting relationships came from that than from all the other ones. It was in a lousy location, a lousy hall, a lousy night, but people liked the live music, something to do on a Sunday night without booze."

Lutzke shakes index finger at cover photo, "Look here, this was the issue that had the proclamation in it. Kind of cute." Cover shot features Mayor Frank Curran, Larry Lutzke, and "pretty club member" Kathy Georggen. The mayor's presenting Lutzke with a proclamation, "Singles Club Day In San Diego."

"This guy here," refers to photo, "Mayor Curran, used to come to the singles' dances. He used to sit around and talk to the girls. It was like a farm town. 'Are you the mayor, huh?' 'Yeah, I'm the mayor.' 'How are you?' 'How are you?' 'I'm fine.' 'I'm fine.' It's all changed. The attitude changed."

Back at the expo, I resume working the crowd, pester two young women, "How U do you like the show?"

The younger one, sporting a plain white T-shirt, "It's okay, it's all right. I have a boyfriend, I'm just with her."

Christ, almost sunset. Head for the bar, order a double brandy. Behind me a long snake line of antsy humans twists out from the reception desk. Jesus, it's got to be the singles' mixer. Expo has rented out Red Lion's nightclub for an evening of singles' abandonment.

Bull my way inside nightclub, head for buffet of free food, load up — BIG — grab ringside seat adjacent to dance floor, gobble down worst free food I've ever had. Watch place fill. All around dance floor sit four, five, six women to a table; men take positions near the door. Reflect upon standard singles' sales rap of how modern, successful singles hate to meet people in smoky barrooms. Realize I'm in a smoky barroom. Easy listening band plays "Girl from Ipanema." Instantly feel depressed, have fantasy I'm on a cruise ship, deeply embarrassed, demeaned, claustrophobic, uncomfortable, flee into night, endure powerful stomach cramps next 12 hours.

The following morning, stomach still contracting violently, wonder if there's anything more to it than shameless hustle, than selling apricot seeds to cancer victims. Am eager to meet Judy Knoll, singles' adviser. Am eager to learn what a singles' advisor does. We have arranged an interview at a nearby coffee shop on First Avenue.

I arrive early, scout joint, claim a window booth. Ms. Knoll enters, right on the minute. I smile, order tea and coffee, ask, "How did you like the show?"

Even voice replies, "The show was pretty good. It was the first show I did of its kind."

I try the coffee. It's tepid. "Where were you born?"

"Montreal, Canada, lived in New York for 8 years and Florida for 11 years, and I've been in San Diego since '82.”

"What did you do in New York?"

"Sold cosmetics. I was in the beauty business. I probably gathered a lot of my insight into people doing that, and I also ran a couple of singles' groups. I was involved in a nonsmoking singles' group in Florida, and then I started my own in San Diego for vegetarians."

"How did your first singles' group come about?"

"Oh, actually, I guess I got divorced, then I started looking around for some way of meeting people because going to bars was never my thing. When I came to San Diego I decided the best way for me to meet people was to start my own group. But I used the personals even though I was involved in groups. It always seemed the dates and relationships I had were better through personals than through groups."

"Why?"

"Because I could specify exactly what I want in an ad."

I reach for a cigarette, ask, "What would you do with the ads?"

"I used to write ads for people. I was at a party, I was actually writing ads at parties, and a friend told me, 'Judy, stop doing this. This is a service you can charge for. In fact, you should write a book about it.' And that's how I wrote the book [Looking for Love through the Personals]!'

"I haven't heard the job description 'singles' adviser' before."

"Actually, things just fell into place. I started writing ads for people, then I realized I needed a place to work. Then I found out that people had other needs. I ended up giving advice. Actually, I was thinking of giving them some kind of service where they can call me up and ask me questions, you know, and then charge them for the time because I've had people calling me saying, 'I made this date with this guy and this is what I did and I'm not sure what to do now.' "

Wave at the waitress, ask for refills, take a deep breath, "How do you consult? I mean the mechanics of it."

"I have a questionnaire I use." Am passed Xeroxed papers. "Here's a couple of articles that were written about me. The questionnaire is a guideline and often leads to other things."

"You must often be asked if you're married."

"No, I'm not. Isn't that something? Well, I've come close. I've had lots of long-term relationships. I've had marriage proposals, but nobody showed up I felt I wanted to spend the rest of my life with."

"What's your answer to people who say, 'I'd like to get married, and if it hasn't worked for you, why should you be able to help me?' "

"Well, I feel I've helped other people get together. That it hasn't happened to me doesn't mean it's not going to. The time just hasn't arrived yet."

Glance out the window, watch two drunks hobble along, passing a wet paper bag back and forth. "Do you still use the personals?"

"Oh, yes, I still do."

"What do you look for in a personal?"

"Well, for me, because I spend a lot of time writing, it's important somebody understands that. So I put communication in there, and because I'm a vegetarian into health foods, I'd put that in there."

"So you advertise for somebody who's a vegetarian writer...."

"I mean, they don't have to be a writer, just appreciate what I'm doing."

"Then you'd call and what would you say?"

"It's important to have a nice, basic interview and find out certain things about them. You ask questions."

"How does that work?"

"They have a voice mailbox, you give your introductory message, which would be like your ad. So they listen to you, and if they like what you've said, they'll leave a message, 'Well, you sound terrific and would you like to call me.' So then I call them back."

"What would you say?”

"I would have a relaxed conversation and see what they have to say, and if they're shy I might have to ask lots of questions because what I want to find out is, 'If I spend my time going over there, are they worthwhile meeting?' "

I look across the table to a well-screened, calm face. How many of these phone calls has she made? How many has she received? My stomach contracts again. Feel old, feel tired. Snap back, ask, "I'm still digesting the concept, the vocation of singles' adviser. Now, you help people write personal ads. What else do you do?"

"Well, when I'm reading ads I might see an ad that would suit someone, and I might read it to them over the phone and say, 'I read this ad, and this sounds like this might be the person for you.' In fact, one couple I got together, that's exactly what happened. We did a consultation. I picked up the newspaper and the guy was very poetic; he wasn't a writer, but he was very poetic and his ad was a poem. He had 80 responses and she was the one.

"Good Lord. What would you do with 80 people? Never mind. Let's say I'm a single guy. What's your advice to me?"

"Have you gone to singles' groups? Do you have preconceived notions of what personals are like, pro and con or... "

"It feels uncomfortable. I find it not appealing, feels like I'm hawking my personal business on the street."

"I know what you're saying. There is an art to socializing. That's one reason personals are comfortable because I get it all on the telephone. I have my interview, so to speak, on the telephone; I have some idea of the person I'm meeting; in fact, I'm meeting somebody tonight, later. I know something about him, and when I walk in, I have information and I don't have to figure out what I'm going to ask."

"Isn't it difficult calling strangers?"

"This is what my book goes into, the telephone conversation, the first meeting. When I have a telephone conversation with someone I feel comfortable with, usually the meeting turns out very good. Now the ads will specify certain things. What people do when they first start doing ads is, they get excited, but they're not reading carefully. And they're not reading between the lines. First time I did it I had 35 responses, and I decided to meet every one in one week."

"Mother of God, how was that?"

"It was exhausting, emotionally and mentally. There were two men out of the 35 I had relationships with, and I could have avoided at least 20 if I knew how to do it."

"Jesus." Let the enormity of dating 35 strangers, one after the other after the other after the other, sink in. "Do you give advice in terms of living the singles' lifestyle?"

"Well, what I do at a consultation, of course, is I give somebody my book, and they read it. And if they have questions we have another consultation over the phone, if there are things they're not sure about, like the girl having a date on her way to a date and she's not sure if she did it right. Some people want to use dating services — and I do know most of them in town — and some run a nice legitimate business and others are out to get people's money."

Coffee's gone cold again, stomach contracts savagely. "If I were a customer, what would we do now? Would we write an ad?"

"Yes, well, now you feel that you don't want to go to singles' groups, like absolutely against it."

"I would be, ummm, yes, absolutely against it."

"I would visualize you in a singles' gourmet group, that would be dining, that wouldn't be walking around and trying to pick up women, so to speak."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with picking up women but, no, I don't think..."

"Doesn't appeal to you. Okay. You see this is what I deal with in people, is the resistance, and this is a mistake."

"Being resistant?"

"Being resistant. And I've been resistant to things, and then I find out I end up doing them and they come out fantastic."

"So, what would your advice be to me?”

"Try everything."

"Try singles' clubs, try... "

"Right, everything. EVVEERRYTTHING. Dancing, whatever it is. For instance, there are singles' travel groups. Each person lists his or her activities and what kind of trips they like to go on. So you can get matched up through that. I did a story on the Athletic Singles Association, and they were all happy about being in the group because they either had a volleyball game or a tennis game; they had things going on all the time, and it wasn't important to them whether they dated somebody from the group."

"Well, hold it, dating would have to be important or they wouldn't join. I mean, how could it not be important? That's the whole purpose...."

"I mean, it wasn't the main purpose. Then they did end up meeting people through the group, and people did meet and get married, but the initial beginning..."

"But people are paying a great deal of money to meet eligible singles. Isn't it hard not to remember that?"

"Sometimes, sometimes, yeah. But as a single person, everything you do doesn't have to be, you know, I've never placed an ad saying, 'Husband wanted.' It doesn't have to be the main purpose."

"So even if I feel like a fool... "

"Why would you feel like a fool?"

"I'd feel like I would be walking around with a little blinking sign that read, 'Single, Eligible. Single, Eligible.' And I'm paying money to have that happen to me."

"You're going to a place where there are a group of friends, and you all have something in common. You're all looking for friendship, companionship, whatever it is."

"Jesus." Vision of three-week singles' mixer, band playing "Girl from Ipanema" constantly, a place where I have a group of friends and we all have something in common. Experience full-body shudder, stomach heaves, mouth goes dry. To cover, I manage, "Okay, can we do a quick ad?"

"Sure." Knoll studies questionnaire I've filled out. "I usually take lots of time to do it. Let me see if I can do something quick here. Are you the hearts and flowers type?"

"Yeah, depends on the lady, but yeah."

"I mean, this is real quick. When I do ads, what I do is, I put six or seven different headings and they can pick one out themselves. As I say, this is quick, "Handsome Prince with a great sense of humor and a big heart seeking Princess who's attractive, intelligent, for serious long-term relationship,' and you can put in your activities. That's a basic type thing, but I would work on it. This is just a five-minute thing."

"What do you charge?"

"My normal fee is $100 including the ad, and I give them a copy of the book, and you can have another telephone consultation. Some people feel they're good writers and do their own ads, then it's $75."

"Do you have any other advice for singles?"

"There was a program on television and they were talking about meeting people, and they suggested you have cards printed up and if you go to a party, give out a hundred cards, no matter where you are, just give out the cards. And you should have it printed on your card that you're seeking a mate. Somebody gave me a sample of a card, and it said, 'I'm the shy type, but I would like to meet you, I would like to talk to you, call me.' You don't have to say a word. You hand out a card."

"Jesus.”

In for a dime, in for a dollar. I'm at an upscale restaurant on University, waiting for Marie Betts-Johnson, etiquette consultant. We'd met at the expo.

Betts-Johnson arrives ten minutes late, entering the restaurant with a womanly elegance I haven't seen outside motion pictures. We shake hands, take a table. Betts-Johnson speaks with a reserved, aristocratic European accent, can't place it until I notice just a slight taste of brogue.

I look over to serene, intelligent eyes, "I guess briefly I want to ask how you got to here, where you were born, and that kind of stuff."

"It's all in there," looks down to her PR packet. "How long you've been with your company, that's all in there?"

"Yes, everything is in there."

"UMM..."

"I don't know what you need."

"Well, what I was curious about was..."

"Well, actually it's better to have a talk with somebody to get a feel for the person so you can put that into your writing, I presume."

Oh boy. This one's going to be tough. Go to plan B, try to gentle her down. "Right, but also I wanted to have the experience of what it was like if I was just a customer. What kind of people do you normally see?"

"All kinds."

Jesus, already at the Maginot Line. Try an enfilade. "Well, you wouldn't get Teamsters, right?"

"I see people who want to get to the next stage in their lives. They want to polish up their social skills a bit. You never know where it comes from. It could be a construction worker who wants to own his own company someday. Etiquette gives them more confidence. A lot of people know most of what I teach. But the fact is, I reconfirm it for them.”

"What areas do you cover?."

"Well, a handshake. Yours was pretty good, I noticed when we got in here. How you sit. Obviously how you dress, that's another big one."

"What do you do for the wardrobe part?"

"I can do a lot, but it's not something I incorporate into the seminar. When somebody wants a whole shopping experience, I used to do that at one point. I can do a whole makeover. That would be a good idea, go shopping, change the image, or stay with the image they have, but update it."

"In terms of my outfit" — jeans, two-year-old dirty tennies, frayed white cotton socks, mail-order turtleneck shirt, blue jacket — "how would you advise me to update and sharpen my clothing?"

"Please don't take it personally. For a journalist, you can get away with more than your average businessman. You're more creative, you can wear casual jackets with pants, but there's nothing wrong with having them well cut and well pressed and nice shirts or turtlenecks, nice colors. Blacks, whites, and grays are good for men, or blue."

Move quickly along, "Why don't you critique what I'm wearing right now?"

"It's very casual, maybe it's East Coast, the intellectual look. You want to hang on to that, that's fine. It depends too, if you're single, want to get into the dating game, we could spruce it up a bit. And to look even more casual you might wear an ascot, very nice, with an open shirt."

Picture myself in an ascot. Hunting duds, hounds baying outside the manor door. Am immensely pleased. I order the fish special and coffee. "How much does your seminar cost?"

"The seminars are $75 each for the four-hour seminar. There are two seminars. Generally I do it for a minimum of ten people. If I get more than 20 in a seminar, I'll do it for $50 each."

"I guess many people would think, 'Well, I can go out and buy a $4.95 paperback.' What do you do that's worth $150?"

"A lot of people won't buy a book, won't settle down and read it, they won't put it into action. What I do in my seminars is play act. The introductions we do so everybody gets a chance to practice. After the seminar, I show slides, brings it home, more home than reading it out of the book."

I can't recall the last time I've talked with a woman who had such style, such effortless manners. Think of my mother — God, how she would adore being here for this lunch. Genuinely curious now, ask, "Where were you born?"

"I was born in Tipperary."

"When did you get to America?"

"1985."

"Straight to San Diego?"

"No, San Francisco."

"How long were you up there?"

'"Two years, I went to the Louise Salinger Academy of Fashion for two years. Before that I worked in Jordan. I worked for King Hussein and Queen Noor. I had choices on whether I wanted to live back in Ireland or Europe or America. So I chose America to see what it's like. I didn't know what I wanted to do at that point."

It requires real effort to turn around, take us back to etiquette. "It's said that people in England and America are separated by a common language. Is that true?"

"Europeans are not that open. Americans are very open. Europeans take a little bit to get to know. Europeans can drink a little more than Americans drink, harder; hard liquor more than wine. Americans tend to speak loudly whereas Europeans don't. Americans are expansive; they tend to make sweeping gestures where the Swedish or English wave less profusely."

Picture Englishmen waving, picture village of Swedes waving, picture young, naked, brown Caribbean women. "How many seminars do you do?"

"It varies, depends on how many companies want me."

"It strikes me it's a pretty tough business you've got yourself into."

"It is. It's breaking new ground. I think it might be tough, but in the long run it's a good business. I've discovered there's interest, and that spurs me on a little more. I don't see anything else that I could do that I like better.”

"What do you like about it? What's the fun part?"

"Telling people what to do isn't fun. I'm not a sergeant major-type and I'm not a snob. I'm not a good Samaritan either. Etiquette increases people's confidence. It gives me a kick. I just want to see where it goes. It may take me three years, it may take me 30, to get where I want to be. The lady who trained me, Dorothea Johnson, it took her 30 years to get to where she is."

"Where is she?"

"She's in Washington, works the Washington diplomatic community. She's pretty famous. I don't expect it to get that big out here, but who knows, San Diego is growing. All I need is a couple of big companies who will have me come back on a regular basis. That's all I need. I really don't want to make a fortune."

Finish excellent trout. Pity they always serve good fish with rice. Reflect on how I hate rice. Decline dessert, ask, "What is correct etiquette at lunch?"

"This is a power lunch, as I call it, dining with the right fork, or doing business with the right fork, I think that's the expression I'm looking for. First of all, you have to have a nice place, efficient, good food, good atmosphere. Make sure the maitre d' knows you, then you'll get better service. You can tell them ahead of time the pacing of the meal, how slowly to serve the course and so on. As to your guest, you might be better off saying nothing about business. He knows what business you're in presumably. You may extend some information after the lunch.”

"Isn't this the sort of stuff you'd get from parents, if you don't get it from parents, you'd get it from co-workers, if you don't get it from co-workers, you'd probably pick it up in college? Don't people already know this?"

"Statistics show that 80 percent of corporate presidents and vice presidents possess these skills because they're the older generation, they did grow up with these skills, but 40 percent of middle management, the 38- to 40-year-old age group, didn't get these skills. Only 12 percent of the young going into the work force have these skills. They don't know they're making mistakes. Also, 96 percent of customers will not tell people who want to sell them something that they're not happy, but 91 percent of these people won't do business with them again, and they will tell nine other people of their bad experience."

This is the first time I've heard what could be called "The Spiel." My knee bumps against table, coffee cups clack. "Okay, lunch, what did I do right and what did I do wrong?"

"Well, when I came in, you got up to greet me. Very good. You have nice eye contact, nice handshake, you're very friendly, easygoing. Might be a good idea to be seated at the table, though."

"I wondered about that."

"It's okay the way you did it because we went immediately to the table, but if we started to get in conversation at the bar, we'd have been interrupted. Whose idea was this lunch?"

"My idea."

"Then you should have seen that I was seated in the best situation with the best view."

"So I shouldn't be over here facing outward."

"That's if you invite me. You should ask if I minded if you smoked. When you finished your dinner, your knife should be left on your plate, napkin left on the table. You could spruce up your clothes."

"A newer coat, better turtleneck."

"Yes, a nicer one or a shirt. Tie would be nice. You could have casual elegance, you could carry a nice briefcase rather than a... " quick glance at soiled, ten-year-old blue day pack. "I didn't check out your shoes."

"Tennies."

"That's terrible."

"Is there anything I should have done differently?"

"First of all, wait until the menu comes to the table to order if you're the host. Know the menu, have an idea what's good so you can say, 'This is very nice.' Your guest may be a little shy to order something expensive so you say, 'The oysters are great here. I had them the other day.' You leave it open to them to order what they want. If they want to drink, you say, 'Would you like a drink?' and leave that open too. And if you're on a diet, don't mention it."

"How about actual eating of food and manipulating silverware?"

"You were eating fine. When you put food in your mouth, maybe cover your mouth a little quicker. If you go to the men's room, leave your napkin on the chair, not on the table, that way the waiter knows you're not leaving. Don't complain about anything. If the service is bad, you don't say anything, you just don't. It's self-defeating. You talk later, you call them up later. You tip them maybe 20 percent and send a thank-you card to the restaurant."

"Really."

"The maitre d' will bend over backwards next time. Come the check, if you are at a very nice restaurant, you can leave your credit card with the maitre d', tell him to put the usual tip on it, and you pick up your card on the way out."

"Really." Picture handing my credit card to the maitre d' with a flourish. Picture maitre d' calling for the balance on my credit card.

"I was born and raised in Annapolis, Maryland. I went to school at St. Mary's and Annapolis High." This is the firm voice of Mary Colby, image consultant, now standing in my very own squalid hotel room, here to do my colors.

"Then I did something crazy, got married, and decided to make a family. Basically, my background is in fashion merchandising. This job is great because I have a little boy who's seven, so I can see him. Football, baseball, whatever comes along I can do it."

Colby dons white smock, can't decide whether it's a butcher's or dental assistant's uniform. "This hides the color I'm wearing so we can see what you're wearing."

"What kind of training do you get in order to do people's colors?"

"We have a 30-hour course on a weekend, all day Saturday, all day Sunday. From eight in the morning until seven at night. And then every week I go to a meeting, it's just constant, ongoing training. We're independent contractors, and you can do as much or as little as you want."

"So if I called you up and said, 'I want my image consulted,' this is what we'd do, right?"

"Right."

I sit in front of mirror, she drapes first color swatch over my chest, tucks it underneath somewhat shaggy gray/brown beard. "You're either cool or warm, there's no in-between. You can't be spring and summer, you can't be winter and autumn. You have blue undertones to your skin, under your eyes, your cheeks. Can't see a whole lot of your face. What is your heritage?"

"Irish."

Intense red swatch laps under my neck. "Do you see how your skin changes?"

"Yeah, my face seems sharper."

"And when you're in the corporate world, your power and color, for men, is from the waist up. See right here, you can see it, your eyes are brighter.”

"Good Lord,” eyes seem brighter.

"Look at this pink. So, this just indicates you're cool. That's the first thing you do."

"So, it's by season, and by cool and hot?"

"By cool and warm. The warm seasons are autumn and spring, and cool seasons are summer and winter. And it's a matter of intensity. It's a totally visual world where we are."

Another swatch, green this time, flaps under my head. "See, that does sharpen it up, doesn't it?"

"Yes," I agree, getting into the swing of things. "Have you ever colored anybody who baffled you? Went through all the swatches and still didn't know?"

"You know who's hard, somebody with medium skin, hazel eyes, and medium brown hair. They're difficult. They have that ash look. Like, if you look at you and I, there's significant difference between our skin and our hair. Have you ever seen someone who's all one color? They're tough."

"What do you look for to determine the season?"

"Color of lips, eyes, some people right through here," tracing her chin line, "depending on their undertones. Even people like East Indians, that have that sallow look to their skin, they have undertones. You have to have all these colors to tell," gestures to thick book of swatches. "Sometimes you'll do someone that's medium brown hair and medium eyes and light skin and they'll be a winter. Next time you do them they'll have almost the same look about them but they'll be another season.

"You couldn't ever be a summer. What colors do you usually wear?"

Long pause. "I don't know. I haven't ever gone shopping. Either someone else gets my clothes or I don't get them."

"You don't get them!" This expelled with an explosion, a genuine belly laugh.

Respond with dead serious, tortured, monotone, rat-tat-tat, "I loathe it, absolutely hate shopping, can't stand it."

Presented with lavender swatch, I ask, "Now this would be a winter color, right?"

"Right, it sharpens up your eye, the whites of your eyes become clearer, the color of your eyes becomes brighter all the way around.” Flip, another swatch snuggles under bushy chin. "Now this blue is good, not that you would wear it except maybe in a polo."

Swish, another swatch. I contribute, "That's a summer?"

"Yeah, see, they're dusty. Not as bright. Now this kelly is okay, but notice dark green is much, much better. If I was going to build a wardrobe for you, I would pick two of your best colors and keep building so when you go in a closet everything goes with everything else. You don't have to think about it, you could dress in the dark. That would be a goal for somebody who's not mad about clothes and hates to shop."

"Despise it, can't stand it, don't do it, ever." Pause. "What I thought was we'd go through my wardrobe here and get comments." We walk to clothes rack, Colby looks in, laughs.

Color analyst regains professional demeanor, "The main thing about building a wardrobe is knowing who you are, what you want your image to say. If the core of your office is casual, then that's how I would dress."

"I have no idea what casual would be. If I went into a clothing store and said, 'I want a winter casual,' would they know what I was talking about?"

"If you got lucky. Now here," looking at her book, "is a'winter formal, where you have six shirts, six ties, one suit, and then these are the blended suits you would wear. Someone starting out should go with two suits and work from there. Two suits, two pairs of slacks, two shirts, six ties."

"I'll need to write that down." Take Bic pen, scribble, scribble, scribble. Sigh. "Okay, we have my colors, now what else can I do about my image?"

"Say if you wanted to interview, you would wear white. I would always interview in a white shirt, especially you. For an interview, I would wear a thin watch with a leather band — nothing gold, nothing fancy. Two things interviewers look for is hands and feet, because people whose hands are nice and shoes are polished have an eye for detail, they're all together, they're finished. By the way, never buy a tie you haven't tried on."

"Really."

"You need to try a tie on, and it needs to come right in the middle of your belt."

Grab red paisley tie, stride towards mirror, "So when I tie up those two little fellas," holding up tie ends, "they should stick together?"

"Just stick the shorter one inside," instructs voice.

"Well, if you do it that way it doesn't matter what the size is. See, you can always change the length up here,” flailing away at tie-knot adjusting, readjusting the two tie strands.

"Yeah, eventually. I think you should practice that a little bit.”

Place tie on the counter, turn around, "Let's take a peek at my current wardrobe. If I had called you up as a consumer, you would have come over, done my colors, and we would have gone through what clothes I have, right?"

"Right."

Colby confronts my clothes rack like Dracula retreating before the cross. "We need to take you shopping. What kind of suit do you have?"

Point to blue/gray silk tweed jacket. "That's the power jacket."

"You need a black belt."

"Okay, black belt. How 'bout the colors?"

"You could wear a pink or blue shirt with the jacket. I'd stay away from lavender. I have a thing about men in lavender. You could wear red, blue, white, gray, turtleneck."

"Okay, here is the dress shirt section. We have the yellow and this one."

"That's a dress shirt?"

"Well, sort of.”

"Sort of. What do you wear with it?"

"If I have to I'd wear a tie. I guess I'd wear this one here. I only have two ties," point to striped brown, coffee-stained tie.

"You only have two ties? We need to go shopping. Now how long does this last you?"

"Four or five years, until I can't find it around the house anymore. How about the yellow shirt?"

"The yellow is fine, that's an icy color. You're a winter so you can wear your ice pastels: your real light pink, your light orange, your light blue. Your best color is going to be white-white."

"That's good."

6 p.m. Thursday night. At the Rusty Pelican, Mission Valley. No way I'm going to do this one alone. Belly up to the bar, order two double brandies straight up. Tonight's crowd is turned out in corporate classic look, mostly winters.

I am here to meet Kathy Finn, who has graciously agreed to show me one aspect of her business: personal shopping.

Regretfully exit the Pelican, wait on sidewalk, overcome with anxiety. In a moment, cutting through the darkness, I hear a sensuous, low-pitched female voice, a voice that tastes each word as it comes out. "Hi." Notice lovely, wide smile. "I'm in a white Cadillac over there. Just follow me."

Finn was born in Minneapolis, went to nursing school, moved to Monterey, California, lived there six years, then Texas, then San Diego. While in Texas, she "answered an ad, and I am now an executive director with [Executive Images]. I have 600 consultants across the country under me. I have people in New York, North Carolina, I have people in Texas, Phoenix."

I follow Caddy around and around Mission Valley. We park, stand in the parking lot. She says, "I thought we'd go to the May Company 'cause I heard they had good sales on ties."

We walk into the mall, my neck starts to ache, stomach contracts. Finn says, "So, you don't have to wear dress slacks often. Let's get something you need right now. Something you can wear with jeans. You can do a blue, you can do a light pink, you could do an emerald green."

Enter May Company, instantly feel like trapped wolf, heart rate triples, check for exit doors. I ask, "How about accessories? Do I need the male equivalent of all this stuff?" looking at counter tops crowded with bottles of thick, gooey liquid.

"You mean like skin care? Oh yeah. Men are interested in skin care right now."

"What does skin care mean?"

"You cleanse — instead of using soap on your face, you cleanse."

"You don't wash your face with soap?"

"Right, never. It creates a bathtub ring on your face. We approach clothing rack. "Okay, let's look at .this pullover. This is a winter. When you go shopping, you should always have your color swatch book. Now these are the ties I was telling you about. This is top-notch, creative, fun."

I hear ominous sounds of women's shoes on cement, on every side salesladies hover, all presenting the corporate classic look, all winters. My companion eyes the clothes rack. "Here's a wool blend, black. This color, gray, is great too. A gray slack would be great." Sound of shirt hangers scraping on racks, back and forth, back and forth, fingernails on blackboards.

I ask, "How about tweed? I have a tweed jacket. Should I keep wearing tweeds? Should I be a tweed person?"

"Do you like tweeds?"

"Well, I have one around the apartment."

"They look okay, but when you have a design like this, then what do you think that does to your shirts and things?" holding up tweed jacket.

"I have no idea."

"Okay, if you have a design on the jacket, you've got to keep the shirt always plain, whereas if you keep the jacket plain you can do your shirt and your tie in a pattern or whatever. So the tweed limits you. You'd have to have everything plain."

We walk past endless shirts, enough to clothe Bangladesh.

"Now this is pretty, it's got the blue in it, it's got the white so you can pick out some other colors and wear them. But you're going to be better if you stay solid in your suit. Then you can do all the fun things with your other clothes."

"Jesus. Fun things."

"Yeah. Now these are the real fun ties this year. This would be a sweet tie, it's lavender. You've got a white shirt, gray suit, and a lavender tie would be pretty. You would look great in a shirt like this. A striped tie would be awesome with this."

I begin picking through forest of clothing, retrieve one blue sports shirt. "Now what is this called, I mean, what kind of style is this?"

"Leisure. Golf. It's casual. Kind of a cobalt blue, there's a mirror right there."

"What should I watch out for when I look in the mirror?" Several involuntary muscle groups kick in, produce immediate back spasm.

"Look at your eyes," Finn says, attends the shirt rack. "This is a possibility. Here's a blue-red and this orange is red."

"Hmm," I hold, examine the blue red, "I don't see the blue."

"Well, hold it next to the orange. That's kind of nice." Quick hands pan through another mound of shirts. "Ah, lavender. Hold that up to you, very nice. That's beautiful."

"Really?"

"Yeah, that would be awesome. Hold that up to the mirror."

Trot, trot, trot. Find mirror.

"That's gorgeous with your eyes. It's beautiful, all these colors, every one of these have nice colors." Airport music plays in the background.

Finn hauls more shirts to the mirror. "See, all of this is bad. This light brown is like the worst color in the world for you."

"Funny, I have lots of that at home."

"You'd look good in a purple." Presents purple shirt. "You could certainly wear a tie with that. Are you a large?"

"Yeah, extra large probably."

Another shirt is hauled back to the campfire. "This is an awesome color. Isn't that beautiful?"

I experience a moment of self-discovery. "I'm a purple?"

"You're a purple. That's beautiful. Check this out immediately. Oh yeah. Too good."

More deep thought. "What is the etiquette on this? Does one just pick out a selection of shirts and then go over to a dressing room?"

Distracted, looking at more shirts. "Yeah. This would be nice on you. It's on sale for $16. That would go good with what you have on."

"Okay, let's go take a peek at these." We march back to mirror followed by K mart music.

"Jesus. Must I go to barren room, take off warm, comfortable clothes, put on stiff, strange-looking clothes, come out, parade around?"

Finn is ignoring unfolding tragedy, fingering another goddamn sports shirt, "Isn't this pretty, do you like that?"

"Well... ah," bewildered, "one actually has to try them on?"

"Yeah."

"Go to a room."

"Yeah."

"Put them on."

"Yeah."

"All of them."

"That will be fun."

"Yes, fun."

"I think there's a room over there."

"Okay." Manifest grim determination.

"Then come out and show me."

"All right."

March to room accompanied by soul-maiming department store music. Instantly begin sweating inside tiny cubical. Notice my jeans are dirty.

Escape, back to the big world. "Is this what most people do, they would get four or five clothing items and go and try them on one after the other?"

"Yes. They would pick out things they like and go try them on."

Adopt tone of worldly-wise shopper, refer to spanking new shirt, "This feels big. Does it look big?"

"See where the seam hits here?" Points at right shoulder. "The seam should be here and it's not, so you know it's too big."

Back to dressing room. Want whiskey, want cigarette, consider running away from home. There are 20 white pins stuck on the wall of this miserable cell hole. What does it mean? A tribal ritual, a shared activity shoppers do in secret, inside little cubicles, hidden away in bowels of department stores? Notice the red leisure shirt is too big. March out wearing deep lavender shirt with gold crown sewn onto pocket, like little Lord Fauntleroy at a Sunday dance, and announce, "The red one was too big." Pause. "What would you call this?" holding up another goddamn shirt.

"That's more of a gray-blue. Isn't that neat?"

"Yes, neat." Jesus. Help. "Don't people get tired of this?"

"Of wearing their colors?"

"No, of going in and out and in and out and in and out changing clothes."

"Well, no, not really. Now this is also awesome. This would be nice for you, black."

Back in the cube again. Struggle, struggle, struggle. Shoes on, shoes off, pants on, pants off. There's no fucking end to it.

Thke my place in front of the mirror, home again. Am told, "That's great. Great colors on you. This one's a must. I don't know if that one's on sale, but that's a must."

It's quite clear to me I'll buy anything, pay any ransom, to make this stop. I offer, "Okay, I can feel the magic working. I'll get it. How 'bout socks? Any handy hints? Also, is there anything about underwear?"

"Well, if you were my boyfriend and you always wore regular underwear and you came home in bikini underwear, I would know you're having an affair."

"Really? That's interesting. If you were shopping for a guy, how would you shop for underwear?”

"Well, the big thing right now, they say the boxer shorts are the most comfortable. But I have never dated anybody who liked boxer shorts."

"Do you just ask them, 'Gee, honey, do you like boxers?' "

"Yeah, boxers, or do you like regular, standard, or do you like the bikinis and all the colors, awesome. They make you feel sensual."

"Would I still get winter colors?"

"I would, I would — you'd know it was there. Just like women, if they're wearing a red blouse they wear red underthings. They have underwear and lingerie in all colors."

"Do women in general prefer boxers or bikinis?"

"I prefer bikinis. It's provocative. Women who are really natural are probably going to like boxers 'cause they're comfortable, and if you have a woman who likes style, she's going to like bikinis. It depends on who you're trying to please. Oh, this is fun," picks up a box of ultra bikini briefs. "A lot of men wear their jockeys cut high. They think they're very comfortable."

"I'll be damned."

On the way out, Finn looks at another pink shirt. I shake my head, "I'm afraid that's a little bold for me."

"Someday you'll enjoy it.”