I used to smile at everyone, and even say hello to each and every person I passed. The Bronx will wear that out of you, though. I'm trying to get back into the habit now that I'm a Floridian.
The best compliments are the unusual ones. I would never think of my eyes as a particularly interesting feature. They are small, and nearly black. For this reason, I'll never forget the dude walking past my bus stop on East Gun Hill Rd. in the Bronx who paused just long enough to tell my my eyes were very pretty. I had never been told that before, and have rarely heard it since.
I have received tons of compliments on my winter coats. I have some lovely ones, including a full-length mink that seems to really turn heads.
Children seem drawn to me. When small children smile at me, I take that as a compliment, and I make a point to stop and speak with them. Children are very honest. They like you, or they just don't.
I get complimented nearly daily on my glasses. They are pretty cute.
A few months ago, a man followed me down the street a fair bit on the other side of the street. I'd walked right past him as I exited my complex. He'd been on his cell phone. He smiled, so I returned the smile, and tossed out a "Good afternoon" and quick as a bunny, I was across the street. I heard him tell the person on the other line he'd call them back, and I heard him trying to catch up with me, but Floridians and New Yorkers just do not walk the same way. I don;t think he thought I'd get so far so fast. He found himself on the wrong side of three lanes of traffic, while I paced the median. He called out to me, asked me to return, and I held up my hand, to show my wedding jewelry. I wished him a nice day. I suppose he didn't understand what I was showing him. Perhaps he chose to ignore it. I got across the other three lanes as cars continued to whiz past him, and could just barely make out that he wanted me to stand still and wait for him. I kept walking, and screamed back that I was married, and in a rush, but a siren and six lanes of traffic carried my voice away. He followed, thwarted by the street between us, until I veered off into the parking lot of the supermarket. I glanced over my shoulder, and he looked so disappointed. I found his determination on such a hot, oppressive day very complimentary. He spotted me a few days later, and tried again, but it was even hotter, and I was jogging, and I was still on the other side of all that traffic. He didn't follow as far. I guess he doesn't jog.
Random men frequently seem to think they are complimenting me when they approach me to discuss my breasts, but really, they are just offending me. At best, they are making themselves fodder for ridicule later. My ex and I still laugh about the guy who smiled at me, and then said, seemingly to my coat, "I like your features."