Giving in to first impressions can land us in the soup
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I WOULDN’T say that I’m completely influenced by appearances, but I think most of us would accept that first impressions are important.
Those initial few minutes when we’re introduced to someone or something generally form the basis of how we react towards them straight away, and how we pigeonhole them socially and professionally.
Take biscuits as an example. How many of us are seduced by what they look like, long before we experience that mouthwatering longing to seek comfort in their sweet softness?
It’s a human weakness, this automatic compulsion to compartmentalise people and objects, and even creatures, because it makes us feel safe to know what position on the playing field of life these guys hold.
I know that I find myself doing it, but I refuse to let myself be completely taken in by it, because so often first impressions can be wrong.
Take books as another example, or even food products – an attractive dust-jacket or pretty packaging is no guarantor of a gripping read or good taste.
Naturally, the eye is drawn to what pleases it, and if you’re in a hurry it seems like a fairly plausible reason to pounce on what grabs your attention in the first few seconds, when you form that all-important relationship, before any kind of transaction takes place.
It’s similar to when people go to buy pets; they are bewitched and blackmailed by appearances and invariably will talk of how they were drawn to their final selection simply because of what they experienced visually. It’s not as if cats and dogs are capable of waving their paws and screaming “me, me”.
I have selected books on the basis of their front cover, without any idea of what their contents hold. I do have standards, though. I stay with classics or modern fiction, avoiding celebrity autobiographies, but I’ve paid the price for my shallowness. I have spent money just because I was taken in by clever photography or design, and even although I accept I may be making a mistake, if I’m in a rush, if it’s pleasing to the eye, it gets selected.
Thankfully, the converse doesn’t apply – if I am drawn to a good review, I don’t discount the book because I don’t like the design.
I suppose the same approach applies to new foods – one is much more likely to work up an appetite and enthusiasm for something that looks mouthwatering, rather than something mysterious and sinister looking, which could contain ingredients you didn’t even know existed. The only exception to that rule surely has to be prawns or langoustines, still in their full livery. They’re not exactly of the “come hither” type, but once experienced it’s easy to overlook their shortcomings in the looks department.
On the other hand, take some of our most popular puddings and cakes – see them in a magazine when you’re at your weakest, or hungriest, it’s the same thing, and you convince yourself that you cannot function without access to a wee slice of the action – and yet, sometimes the reality is less than the suspense or the longing.
Not all first impressions are wrong, though, and I’ll warrant that there are some of us who are excellent judges of character, whose initial pronouncements on people bear out, but then again some people are masters of disguise and know how to create plausible illusions which may be a million miles from their true character.
Of course nothing disappoints more than to discover you have made an error of judgment, and someone, or something, you imagined to be beyond reproach is actually beneath contempt, but it happens to us all.
Going back to food, I can think of some seriously attractive dishes that I have produced whose taste was so far divorced from their appearance that it would have been fair and right for those who were dining to demand compensation, and indeed I have found myself in a similar position where I mistook goats cheese for smoked chicken and almost wished I were the chicken. I loathe and abhor goats cheese and if I find it trying to masquerade as something else, I get quite stroppy.
It ought to carry a small flag or banner, rather like a mini version of the type left by climbers or explorers whose extraordinary feats deserve to be celebrated and acknowledged – but rather as a warning as opposed to a commemoration.
There are several other items whose appearance belies their hidden depths: marzipan and almonds being two I would immediately highlight, or indeed those pesky and quite irritating caraway seeds, which look all light and healthy, but frankly taste like they were meant to be a punishment.
I suppose I could extend this to clothing as well.
We’ve all been separated from our hard-earned cash by a beautiful item of clothing which looks a million dollars on the mannequin, but which sadly looks nothing like your average woman in the street, only to get home and try it on and realise that someone has been tampering with it in the bag – generally taking it in by at least two inches, or at least that’s the impression one is left with.
How come it looks so life-changing in the shop?
What happens to it between the purchasing and the second fitting?
Again, it’s that sneaky first impressions creature, covering our eyes and minds to the real truth.
That’s probably why magazines are the life-blood of most of the younger generation – nothing gladdens the heart more than an image of something that promises to alter our lives or the way we live them. It’s the wow factor, and it has to be there at the start, just like the reaction that matinee idols provoke, if they are to have any serious staying power.
Don’t get me wrong: of course things grow on us. In fact, those are often the most potent feelings, but we are a nation that is increasingly guided and influenced by our initial reactions, clearly believing that what we see is what we get.
It might also clarify why we are becoming so obsessed with our appearance and, more important, the appearance of those around us, and we know that’s not a good thing.
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