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That this elusive combination of effervescence and intelligence is so difficult to define may explain why social scientists have paid far less attention to it than they have to more easily identifiable "pathologies" such as clinical depression or social anxiety. But that's starting to change. New research has been teasing out charm's elements, identifying the characteristics common to people who draw others toward them like bees to blossoms.
It's hardly an exact science, of course. Like beauty, charm often lies in the eye of the beholder. (Haven't we all been left cold by someone a friend has raved about?) Still, genuinely charming people nearly always exhibit certain universal traits. Here are the five that experts agree on.
This tops the list, ranking higher than poise or social ease, according to a new study by John Czepiel, PhD, of New York University's Stern School of Business. Funny people attract others effortlessly: At a party, the person with the largest circle of admirers is the one who's making everyone laugh. This is partly because "humor offers immense physiological and psychological benefits," says Steven M. Sultanoff, PhD, a California psychologist who is the past president of the Association of Applied and Therapeutic Humor. "It reduces stress hormones, dulls physical pain, and promotes social bonding."
And humor isn't necessarily innocent. In fact, the most seductive variety is often off-color, irreverent, sly. One of the most popular Washington hostesses of the last century was Teddy Roosevelt's daughter, Alice Roosevelt Longworth, an indefatigable gossip and world-class charmer who kept an embroidered pillow in her sitting room that read, "IF YOU CAN'T SAY SOMETHING NICE, THEN SIT NEXT TO ME." The likely source of Longworth's appeal -- apart from the guilty pleasure derived from being an "insider" listening to her cut an unsuspecting outsider to ribbons -- was the sheer vitality and candor behind her attitude. Humor often involves an almost-childlike willingness to flout social conventions: Who among us hasn't had fun breaking the rules of staid, grown-up life?
Although humor alone does not guarantee charm (David Letterman can be hilarious, but it would be a stretch to call him charming), funny people are usually highly original, points out Dr. Sultanoff. And originality is a prime element of charm: Truly charming people never resemble anyone else but themselves.
Charming people seem extraordinarily tapped into life, fully engaged in the possibilities of the moment, and bystanders are sucked into that engagement, too, just by virtue of sharing their space. High intelligence, curiosity, and creativity -- the ability to see connections between seemingly unrelated things -- form a "sharp perspective," a kind of intelligent charisma that's magnetic.
Charmers also tend to be full of energy, life, and exuberance -- qualities that are extremely contagious, points out Kay Redfield Jamison, PhD, a professor of psychiatry at the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine and the author of Exuberance. "People are attracted to Oprah partly because they trust her, but partly because they think some of her energy is going to rub off on them," Dr. Jamison says. "Charming people make other people feel more alive."
Perhaps the most potent charmers are those who manage to inject a lightning bolt of liveliness into otherwise-dull circumstances. Lori Breeden, a grant coordinator in Homewood, Alabama, remembers her college statistics professor, Betty Brazelton, as inimitably charming -- at least partly because Brazelton refused to behave like the stereotypical teacher of a dry subject. "This brilliant, elegant woman, who came to class dressed to the nines, was a fanatic about Auburn University football," Breeden recalls. "On game days she'd paint her face and drive to campus in a car decorated with the school colors, not at all embarrassed by her enthusiasm. She made statistics so much fun that our class presented her with roses on the last day of the semester. I doubt there's another stats prof on earth who can say that."
These "high voltage states," to borrow Dr. Jamison's phraseology, are not the only form that charm takes. There's also a subtler version -- sometimes called grace or poise -- that's characterized by knowing exactly what to do or say in every social setting, no matter how unorthodox. Charming people are not fretters, says Michael Levine, author of Charming Your Way to the Top. They're comfortable in their own skin, projecting a kind of self-confidence that makes other people comfortable in theirs. Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, for instance, was the epitome of social ease, whether she was wearing Bermuda shorts and a head scarf at the beach or silk and diamonds at a ball. This kind of charm is grounded in unerring good manners, but it extends beyond basic courtesy: It's about putting others at their ease, no matter the circumstances.
Anna Giattina, a teacher in Birmingham, Alabama, remembers her own mother as serenely unruffled by an endless stream of guests who'd drop in unexpectedly at dinnertime: "There were always extra mouths to feed -- my friends, my father's clients, neighbors, people from church. They'd arrive unannounced and stay indefinitely, but my mother welcomed them all. If there wasn't quite enough food to go around, guests would help themselves from the pantry. That's how comfortable she made them feel."
Most of us are satisfied with the typical polite exchange -- "How are you?" "Fine, and you?" -- that greases the social machinery. But charming people make time to delve. "If you go anywhere with Carrie, you quickly realize that she knows everyone, from the university president to the waitress at the coffee shop," says Shannon Anderson, a college professor in Houston, Texas, referring to a colleague. "And I don't mean in the 'have a nice day' way. She asks about their sick parent, their dog, their son's progress at school. She's sincerely interested." Charming people listen intently, without interruption, and when you stop talking, they ask another question, then another. And they're right there with you -- their eyes aren't darting around the room.
This is one area where charm is defined a bit differently for men and women, says Sherron Bienvenu, PhD, a communications consultant in Utah. "Frankly, women are usually far better at listening than men," she notes, "so when a man listens with his full attention, the behavior seems remarkable." Bill Clinton -- widely regarded as one of the most engaged listeners in public life -- is almost universally considered a charming conversationalist, even by people who disagree with him.
But there's more to it than simply listening without interrupting. Charming people embrace others -- they're never too self-conscious, or too busy, to make someone feel treasured, set apart, unique. Breeden remembers her father's description of a family friend: "Jess makes you feel like she's been waiting all day for you to walk into the room." That kind of obvious pleasure in the company of others is the essence of charm.
Legare Vest, a high school teacher in Nashville, remembers her grandmother, Dorothy Watkins, as the most charming person she has ever known, and a big part of it was her seemingly limitless desire to reach out to others. "She kept a list of people she 'owed' a note -- even just a 'how are you?' -- and wrote one nearly every day. People loved getting them. Every time we went to the grocery store, someone was sure to say, 'Dorothy, your note made my day.'"
Charming people are deeply curious. They're wide-open to all aspects of experience, constantly trying new foods, reading books, meeting people. They want to know about everything -- what raw squid tastes like, how you wound up with an emergency appendectomy, where butterflies go in the rain. It's almost a hunger: Tell me more! And the attitude is infectious, inspiring in others the sensation of more energy, deeper engagement, greater curiosity, says Dr. Jamison. "A person who is not innately curious and lively will feel more so when he is around someone like this."
Being open to experience has another upside: "People with this quality tend to be more tolerant," Dr. Jamison notes. Because they're interested in everyone, in finding out many perspectives, they project a kind of warmth and open-mindedness that may eventually lead to wisdom. In one long-term study at the University of California at Berkeley, women who were described by their peers as open and tolerant at age 21 were more likely to be described as wise 40 years later.
Given findings like these, it is hard to dispute Dr. Jamison's claim that scientists need to start paying less attention to the darker side of human nature and more to the positive. "I don't think people appreciate how important it is to figure out how these 'good' traits work," she says. "But I for one believe that this kind of research is absolutely vital to all of us -- as a species and as a society."
About 10 percent of 4-month-old infants, research shows, already exhibit some of the most obvious signs of charm -- intense social engagement, high curiosity, and exuberance -- which suggests that these characteristics are innate. Nevertheless, they can be learned, says Michael Levine, author of Charming Your Way to the Top. Note, though, that learning to be charming is not the same thing as pretending to be. "Charm is sincere by definition," Levine says. "Fakery can be recognized in an instant." The trick, he says, is to practice the elements of charm so consistently that they become a natural, authentic part of who you are. Here, some charm school pointers:
Pick a role model. Who's the most charming person you know? Levine recommends observing that person and following her lead. Marilyn Paige, a reporter in Philadelphia, remembers a college friend: "Alice had amazing social instincts. By consciously imitating the way she dealt with people, I learned how to create a rapport with others."
Accept compliments gracefully. When you project positive feelings about yourself, others find it easier to connect to you, says Tina B. Tessina, PhD, author of It Ends with You. "As a result, you make friends, making you feel even better about yourself, making it easier to make friends. It's a positive spiral."
Be a good sport. You don't need to be a great storyteller or a natural comedian to have a great sense of humor, says Levine. All that's required is a refusal to take yourself too seriously. Dolly Parton, for example, is famous for laughing at herself: "It takes a lot of money to look this cheap," she'll say merrily.
Notice the nuances. "We all love it when someone sees beyond our most obvious features," notes Maya Talisman Frost, a mindfulness trainer in Portland, Oregon. "So make a point of commenting on what surprises and delights you about someone else."
Bone up. Part of being charming is listening with real interest, but an equal part is having something interesting to say, says Dr. Tessina. So get informed -- read all about the background doings of a hit movie or unearth a surprising fact about a historical figure. Be sure it's a topic you actually care about. People will respond to the passion they hear in your voice as you speak.
By Margaret Renkl
Originally published in Ladies' Home Journal, March 2007.
In the past I would have been right behind Dixie. I would have turned off the faucet and joined the hunt while trying to soothe my husband with bromides like, "Don't worry, they'll turn up." But that only made him angrier, and a simple case of missing keys soon would become a full-blown angst-ridden drama starring the two of us and our poor nervous dog.
Now, I focus on the wet dish in my hands. I don't turn around. I don't say a word. I'm using a technique I learned from a dolphin trainer.
I love my husband. He's well read, adventurous and does a hysterical rendition of a northern Vermont accent that still cracks me up after 12 years of marriage.
But he also tends to be forgetful, and is often tardy and mercurial. He hovers around me in the kitchen asking if I read this or that piece in The New Yorker when I'm trying to concentrate on the simmering pans. He leaves wadded tissues in his wake. He suffers from serious bouts of spousal deafness but never fails to hear me when I mutter to myself on the other side of the house. "What did you say?" he'll shout.
These minor annoyances are not the stuff of separation and divorce, but in sum they began to dull my love for Scott. I wanted — needed — to nudge him a little closer to perfect, to make him into a mate who might annoy me a little less, who wouldn't keep me waiting at restaurants, a mate who would be easier to love.
So, like many wives before me, I ignored a library of advice books and set about improving him. By nagging, of course, which only made his behavior worse: he'd drive faster instead of slower; shave less frequently, not more; and leave his reeking bike garb on the bedroom floor longer than ever.
We went to a counselor to smooth the edges off our marriage. She didn't understand what we were doing there and complimented us repeatedly on how well we communicated. I gave up. I guessed she was right — our union was better than most — and resigned myself to stretches of slow-boil resentment and occasional sarcasm.
Then something magical happened. For a book I was writing about a school for exotic animal trainers, I started commuting from Maine to California, where I spent my days watching students do the seemingly impossible: teaching hyenas to pirouette on command, cougars to offer their paws for a nail clipping, and baboons to skateboard.
I listened, rapt, as professional trainers explained how they taught dolphins to flip and elephants to paint. Eventually it hit me that the same techniques might work on that stubborn but lovable species, the American husband.
The central lesson I learned from exotic animal trainers is that I should reward behavior I like and ignore behavior I don't. After all, you don't get a sea lion to balance a ball on the end of its nose by nagging. The same goes for the American husband.
Back in Maine, I began thanking Scott if he threw one dirty shirt into the hamper. If he threw in two, I'd kiss him. Meanwhile, I would step over any soiled clothes on the floor without one sharp word, though I did sometimes kick them under the bed. But as he basked in my appreciation, the piles became smaller.
I was using what trainers call "approximations," rewarding the small steps toward learning a whole new behavior. You can't expect a baboon to learn to flip on command in one session, just as you can't expect an American husband to begin regularly picking up his dirty socks by praising him once for picking up a single sock. With the baboon you first reward a hop, then a bigger hop, then an even bigger hop. With Scott the husband, I began to praise every small act every time: if he drove just a mile an hour slower, tossed one pair of shorts into the hamper, or was on time for anything.
I also began to analyze my husband the way a trainer considers an exotic animal. Enlightened trainers learn all they can about a species, from anatomy to social structure, to understand how it thinks, what it likes and dislikes, what comes easily to it and what doesn't. For example, an elephant is a herd animal, so it responds to hierarchy. It cannot jump, but can stand on its head. It is a vegetarian.
The exotic animal known as Scott is a loner, but an alpha male. So hierarchy matters, but being in a group doesn't so much. He has the balance of a gymnast, but moves slowly, especially when getting dressed. Skiing comes naturally, but being on time does not. He's an omnivore, and what a trainer would call food-driven.
Once I started thinking this way, I couldn't stop. At the school in California, I'd be scribbling notes on how to walk an emu or have a wolf accept you as a pack member, but I'd be thinking, "I can't wait to try this on Scott."
On a field trip with the students, I listened to a professional trainer describe how he had taught African crested cranes to stop landing on his head and shoulders. He did this by training the leggy birds to land on mats on the ground. This, he explained, is what is called an "incompatible behavior," a simple but brilliant concept.
Rather than teach the cranes to stop landing on him, the trainer taught the birds something else, a behavior that would make the undesirable behavior impossible. The birds couldn't alight on the mats and his head simultaneously.
At home, I came up with incompatible behaviors for Scott to keep him from crowding me while I cooked. To lure him away from the stove, I piled up parsley for him to chop or cheese for him to grate at the other end of the kitchen island. Or I'd set out a bowl of chips and salsa across the room. Soon I'd done it: no more Scott hovering around me while I cooked.
I followed the students to SeaWorld San Diego, where a dolphin trainer introduced me to least reinforcing syndrome (L. R. S.). When a dolphin does something wrong, the trainer doesn't respond in any way. He stands still for a few beats, careful not to look at the dolphin, and then returns to work. The idea is that any response, positive or negative, fuels a behavior. If a behavior provokes no response, it typically dies away.
In the margins of my notes I wrote, "Try on Scott!"
It was only a matter of time before he was again tearing around the house searching for his keys, at which point I said nothing and kept at what I was doing. It took a lot of discipline to maintain my calm, but results were immediate and stunning. His temper fell far shy of its usual pitch and then waned like a fast-moving storm. I felt as if I should throw him a mackerel.
Now he's at it again; I hear him banging a closet door shut, rustling through papers on a chest in the front hall and thumping upstairs. At the sink, I hold steady. Then, sure enough, all goes quiet. A moment later, he walks into the kitchen, keys in hand, and says calmly, "Found them."
Without turning, I call out, "Great, see you later."
Off he goes with our much-calmed pup.
After two years of exotic animal training, my marriage is far smoother, my husband much easier to love. I used to take his faults personally; his dirty clothes on the floor were an affront, a symbol of how he didn't care enough about me. But thinking of my husband as an exotic species gave me the distance I needed to consider our differences more objectively.
I adopted the trainers' motto: "It's never the animal's fault." When my training attempts failed, I didn't blame Scott. Rather, I brainstormed new strategies, thought up more incompatible behaviors and used smaller approximations. I dissected my own behavior, considered how my actions might inadvertently fuel his. I also accepted that some behaviors were too entrenched, too instinctive to train away. You can't stop a badger from digging, and you can't stop my husband from losing his wallet and keys.
PROFESSIONALS talk of animals that understand training so well they eventually use it back on the trainer. My animal did the same. When the training techniques worked so beautifully, I couldn't resist telling my husband what I was up to. He wasn't offended, just amused. As I explained the techniques and terminology, he soaked it up. Far more than I realized.
Last fall, firmly in middle age, I learned that I needed braces. They were not only humiliating, but also excruciating. For weeks my gums, teeth, jaw and sinuses throbbed. I complained frequently and loudly. Scott assured me that I would become used to all the metal in my mouth. I did not.
One morning, as I launched into yet another tirade about how uncomfortable I was, Scott just looked at me blankly. He didn't say a word or acknowledge my rant in any way, not even with a nod.
I quickly ran out of steam and started to walk away. Then I realized what was happening, and I turned and asked, "Are you giving me an L. R. S.?" Silence. "You are, aren't you?"
He finally smiled, but his L. R. S. has already done the trick. He'd begun to train me, the American wife.
By Amy Sutherland
Published: June 25, 2006
1. Keep your voice soft, lilting, and uncomplaining.
2. Neither think nor speak one single criticism.
3. Write a gay little note to someone. Perhaps a solider?
4. Let not one sigh rise from your heart.
5. Spend five minutes looking at some beautiful scene. realize that you do not have to buy beauty to possess it.
6. Sing! When the water runs if you want to drown out the sound of it - but sing for your soul's sake and your charm's sake.
7. Pour strong mental germicide on any lurking self-pity - realize that you are privileged to live in momentous times and must be worthy of them.
8. Love something - if only a rag doll.
In other words, get a more pleasant "rise" out of everyone and yourself! Just this alone will make life sweeter, more responsive, more helpful and noble.
It was bitingly cold despite the sunshine. The slow-moving Cam was dappled with the last yellow leaves of autumn, and a vicious little wind stirred the dust along Silver Street.
She bought fruit, bacon, and sausages, enough to provide supper and a breakfast and to give her time o check the provisions in Eileen's store cupboard.
She also bought a box of chocolates for Lovell and flowers for the invalid; and, at the last minute, dived into a shabby toy shop for crayons and balloons. Thus armed, she returned to the car, and having deposited her purchases, decided to treat herself to a splendid lunch at the garden House hotel nearby.
She was on her way again, much fortified, within the hour.- from No Holly for Miss Quinn
"Since you're probably starting to think about your spring wardrobe, I though a few of my fashion "rules" might be applicable. So here goes:
1. Do more with less. Did you know that with the right 17 garments, you could create over 40 outfits, without repeating any? Notice, I said the right garments: those that suit your lifestyle, flatter your body and make you feel great. I've gotten into the habit of buying a fabulous suit every season that I wear together and as separates. This year, it's a brown Michael Kors skirt suit with a short fitted jacket and removable "leopard" collar. I wear the jacket either with or without the collar, paired with tweed pants, brown suede pants, brown flannel pants, camel pants, a multi-hued skirt and others and team the skirt with an assortment of different pullovers, cardigans and jackets. I can create a minimum of 15 outfits from that suit. And I feel terrific in every one of them.
2. Base your wardrobe on neutral shades. Select no more than two as your core colors. Neutrals work well together and they send a more executive message. Remember, the deeper the hue, the more authority it conveys. Use pastels or brights as accent shades.
3. Check the fit. The better clothing fits, the more expensive it looks. If you have a choice between costly clothing that's too big or too small or more affordable clothing that fits perfectly, opt for the latter. Ill-fitting garments undermine your confidence and your power. They don't look the money and worse, they don't look good.
4. Personalize your look with accessories. You can stay true to your style and still portray a professional image (especially if you work for a conservative company) by using accessories wisely. Choose a signature, be it ropes of pearls, interesting shoes, antique pins or even a colorful flower on your lapel to make yourself memorable.
5. Dress for the day. If you're in IT and intend to be crawling around rewiring computers, don't wear your best suit. And if you're going to a meeting with clients, don't wear jeans and a tee shirt. Match your outfit to the occasion and remember, in business, it's better to err on the side of formality."