Dear Queenie, No. 1

Welcome to Dear Queenie, where you bring the problem and I bring the opinion. I am kind, I am honest, and I am never, ever boring. For this first column, a few of our Cast wrote in. Next time, it could be you.

“My sister says I’m too old for sequins.”

Dear Queenie, I am 74 and I have a turquoise sequin jacket I bought in 1981. My sister says a woman my age should “tone it down.” Should I? Signed, Still Sparkling in Memphis (June)

Miss June. Sit down, I’m going to say this once. Sequins do not check ID. They were made to catch light, and you, my darling, have been catching light for 74 years. Your sister is welcome to tone herself down as much as she likes. That’s her business. Yours is to wear the jacket to Sunday dinner and let it do what it was born to do.

If you’d like a peace offering, bring her a slice of cobbler. Not two. One.

“I’m terrified of my first walk.”

Dear Queenie, I’m entering my first pageant in the spring and my legs shake just thinking about the stage. My coach says I’ll be fine. How do I believe her? Signed, Wobbly in Atlanta

Baby, everyone’s legs shake. The trick is that nobody in the audience can tell. Here is what I want you to do. Practice the walk until it bores you. Then practice it in the shoes. Then practice it while someone you love heckles you from a folding chair. By the time you reach the real stage, your feet will know the way even if your nerves don’t.

And listen to your coach. If she’s who I think she is, she has walked more stages than you’ve had birthdays, and she does not say “you’ll be fine” to people who won’t be.

“My friend only ever comments ‘cute’.”

Dear Queenie, I spent six weeks hand-knitting a blanket and my oldest friend left one word on it. “Cute.” Am I allowed to be a little hurt? Signed, Crooked on One Side in Edinburgh (Dot)

Dot, you are allowed to feel whatever you feel, and a little hurt is very reasonable after six weeks of your life went into those stitches. But I’d bet the tea that your friend meant more than she typed. Some people are just bad at words. Tell her what the blanket meant to you, and ask her which square was her favorite. You’ll get a real answer, and next time she’ll have something to say.

And for everyone else reading, this is your reminder. One true sentence beats a one-word note. Say what you see. We crown, we don’t tear down.

“Am I allowed to dress up for nowhere?”

Dear Queenie, I work nights at a hospital. On my days off I like to put on a velvet blazer just to buy coffee. My coworkers think it’s hilarious. Is it weird? Signed, Overdressed for the Café (Marcus)

Marcus, honey, you spend your nights taking care of everyone else. On your day off, the velvet blazer is taking care of you. That’s not weird, that’s wisdom. Your coworkers can laugh all they like. The barista asked about your plans, didn’t she? That’s the point. Getting dressed for nowhere turns nowhere into somewhere.

Write to Queenie

Got a question about getting dressed, feeling seen, or being brave enough to post the photo? Members can write to Queenie through a letter to the editor, and mark it “Dear Queenie.” I can’t answer everyone, but I read every single one. With love, and a little side-eye, Queenie.