Life Lessons Shared in the Ladies’ Room

The best advice can often come from a stranger at the bathroom sink.

Does this sound familiar?

You’re at a rest stop on a highway, desperate to pee, and, after emerging from the stall, you spy a 20-something in the mirror, shifting her weight on to her left hip, then her right, left, right, as she adjusts something so minute on her clothing that, for a minute, you’re not sure what she’s doing.

You make your way to the sink alongside of her, washing your hands, glimpsing her way, and realize she’s folded over the top of her yoga pants, she’s futzing with it, pulling the waistband over her belly button (pierced), shimmying the fold down to her hips, tucking in her shirt, untucking, French tucking… it goes on.

Finally, as you dry your hands and get ready to walk out, you say, “You look terrific,” and snaps her out of it for a moment. She realizes she’s been in her own self-critical bubble, and now she’s back in the bathroom, with you, 20-plus years her senior (maybe older?). Is she looking at you like a big sister? Like her mother? “Thanks,” she offers shyly. “I hate these pants. I don’t know why I wore them.”

“You look great, honey. Have fun!” and then you cavalierly exit the bathroom while she’s still standing there. Adjusting. 

Or maybe you’re both in the bathroom at a bar. It’s obvious that she’s been crying and is now retouching her face. “Doll, believe me when I tell you that while this seems like a dead-end moment, it’s just another opportunity to course correct,” you tell her (almost like you are speaking to the younger version of yourself). You make eye contact with nothing but kindness and the thought of: Oof, a public breakup on a Saturday night? Been there, done that. For a moment, she stops trying to be brave and sadly smiles at you. Seen.

Both of these scenarios, and several similar ones, have happened to me recently. One young woman and I ended up chatting for about 30 minutes over coffee in Brooklyn. She was in the bathroom taking a bunch of deep breaths and kind of pacing around, as I was touching up my eyeliner in the mirror over the sink, our eyes met and I just asked, “You OK?” She looked at me, smiled sadly but also a tiny bit fiercely, and said, “Nope. But I will be. The guy I was dating just told me he misses his ex and called her and they’re going to ‘talk.’ And all I want to do is scream because this dude begged me to go out with him for months.”

I couldn’t help saying, “Honey, fuck that guy.” She responded, “Ha, yeah, fuck him so hard.”

I kept talking to her — I had just finished a business lunch and had the rest of the afternoon free — and I could see she was probably my son’s age. I thought about his friends, the girls I watched grow into women, who were now having real relationships, like me, like this young woman. And here, age doesn’t matter. Because we all know a douche move when it happens. 

I took a chance and asked, “I know this sounds slightly insane, but are you going back out to your table? I mean, do you want to walk out with me? Sounds like there’s not really anything left to say to this guy at this moment.”

She looked at me, and her smile got broader. “You know what? Yes. I do want to leave. Let’s go.”

If this were a scene in a rom-com, we’d link arms and stroll out of the ladies room together towards the sunset, her guy watching her with a look of regret on his face. But this was no movie. We left the bathroom, and as we walked towards the door, he was on his phone and never looked up. What a tool.

After making some nervous conversation while we walked, the young woman and I ended up in a coffee shop about five blocks away. She gave me the broad strokes of her relationship, which sounded slightly doomed from the start. She was keeping an eye on her phone as we talked but who could blame her? I shared my story about an ex (and his focus on his ex) and she asked me a lot of questions, one of which was extremely poignant: “I thought as I got older, that whole talking about ‘missing my ex’ would stop. Like, go ahead, miss your ex. You need to tell me about it? Don’t they realize that’s the worst?”

Now it was my turn to sadly smile at her, “Sweets, some of them never grow up, even though we all get older.”

I thought about that coffee talk for a long time after it happened. I considered why I enjoy these kinds of conversations in the first place, and here’s where I landed: One of the best aspects about getting older is not just that you have fewer fucks to give, but the idea that, in modeling this kind of no-fucks-given behavior, you can potentially influence someone else to do the same. And, as weird as this sounds, while my Gen Z coffee shop cutie pie was fewer than 10 years older than my son, there was nothing, well, motherly, about our impromptu sit down. It was just a random older-and-wiser meets young-and-confused. For me, it felt not only natural to yak away with this young woman and hopefully dissuade her of her current “the world is ending” blues, but it also felt like a rite of passage. It felt like it was my duty — even my privilege — to shepherd her through a half-hour of sisterly small talk.

So, yes, I do love to talk to strangers, like, a lot, but an off-the-cuff kind remark or compliment is not always welcome. I was at the Strand Book Store the other day, looking for a copy of The Secret History to gift a friend. A younger woman next to me reached for Donna Tartt’s second book, The Little Friend (ironic, isn’t it?), which prompted me to chime in, “Ugh, hope you like it. I tried a few times.” My little friend gave me a fake half-smile, took her book, turned on her heel and walked away. (She should’ve gone directly to The Goldfinch, unless she hadn’t read The Secret History, the greatest book ever, but whatever.)

Preening and obsessing in the bathroom mirror, or crying over some douchebag you left at the bar who just told you, “Maybe we should take a break?” We’ve all been there. For me, it wasn’t so much about spinning in circles or worrying about my looks. It was usually because someone else’s behavior had me in a tailspin, and I appreciated it when someone with a bit more life experience under her belt chimed in, having caught me in the act.

I remember sitting on a bench in Midtown Manhattan on a summer afternoon in my 20s, trying to figure out if I was wasting my time with my college boyfriend. His ambition was to sit around my apartment most of the day as I toiled away at the fashion magazine where I was employed for $16,500 a year. Meanwhile he randomly took cater-waiter jobs to earn a little cash for pot and plotted a move to South America to open a NYC-style pizza shop there (with what money, who knows?). I was sharing this tale of woe with another new hire at our magazine, when a woman on a neighboring bench finished her deli salad and stood up to walk away. Before she did, she turned to me and said, “Do yourself a favor. Get your key back and dump him.” She was most likely 30-something, but seemed wise beyond her years and was, of course, correct. 

It’s sort of fascinating that once you reach your 40s and beyond, some crises that would send us reeling in tears in our fragile youth take on a completely different tenor. When we’re older, there are issues with partners, with kids, with aging parents, with unstable dictators running the country into the ground, etc. So seeing a woman half your age fussing over the fit of her athleisurewear is kind of a welcome distraction, particularly because you can make a difference and potentially make her feel better. However, some things never change. As I told my new friend at the coffee shop, the dipshits don’t seem to have an expiration date, no matter your age. 

But here’s the other thing: I’m not engaging with the youngsters because I always have something to offer that will change their perspective or even cheer them up. I do it because it makes ME feel good, too. Personally, I’m craving more human interaction these days. It’s goddamn depressing to walk down the street and see everyone in full AirPod conversations. Making eye contact, taking a moment to stop and say to someone, no matter their age, “You look GREAT!” is totally life-affirming. Likewise, gently reminding someone who thinks the sky is falling that the sun will, in fact, come out tomorrow might actually change the course of their day. I’m all for that. 

This past weekend, I was in a friend’s shoe shop, trying on a pair of fancy sneakers that I definitely did not need but loved while a gaggle of 20-somethings were trying on heels. Beyond exchanging a knowing glance with my friend the shopkeeper (heels…those were the days!), I told one of the women that she looked like an Amazon in the best possible way and to GET THE SHOES. Her friend told me, “Yeah, but her boyfriend is shorter than her.” To which I responded, “The shoes might outlast the boyfriend, darling. Do not snooze on heels that you love.” We all laughed and we all walked out with purchases shortly after; the women heading back to their lives and me to mine. 

---

Want our stories delivered to you? Sign up for our newsletter, then follow us on Instagram, Threads, and Facebook for regular updates and a lot of other silliness.