Complimenting strangers

“I have to say, that is a very nice hat!” I told the man as he passed me on the sidewalk. 

The man in the snazzy blue fedora had a serious look on his face, as if he was thinking deeply about something far more important than the indigo-blue hat with the red feather sitting on his head. 

But whatever less-than-cheerful thought had been preoccupying him (the gathering clouds? The declining stock market? His expanding waistline?), it was whisked away when I complimented his dapper blue hat, and his face broke into a genuine smile. 

I know people who say you shouldn’t compliment strangers. 

“It is intrusive,” they say. “It’s fake.” “Nobody wants a stranger commenting on their appearance!”

I think this is a load of nonsense. 

Everyone likes a compliment. I think it means even more coming from a stranger. I don’t interrupt conversations to compliment someone. I don’t make things up or compliment something I don’t genuinely admire. I don’t think anyone has ever looked offended when I told them they looked good or something they were wearing was attractive. 

I find myself complimenting strangers several times every day. I try to pay attention when I’m on my walks. I try to savor whatever is interesting or beautiful and, much of the time, this is either dogs (because dogs are always interesting and beautiful), or people. I have also complimented gardens, but the people responsible are rarely around to get these compliments. The nice thing about complimenting clothing is that the person associated with it is right there, ready to receive the positive feedback. 

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