I could tell you I love these navy Diors because they’re classics that go with everything, or they were birthday shoes, or blah, blah, blah. But the real reason I love them is that these are the shoes I was wearing when Jack Nicholson flirted with me.
I was standing around with a group of friends backstage at an event, when the doors flew open and in walked Jack followed by a small group of people whose function I was never able to figure out. Spying us, he paused, slipped his sunglasses down his nose, waggled those eyebrows, and hit us with a long drawn out “Ladies!” that had more than a touch of lascivious subtext. And what did I do,card carrying feminist that I am? Did I draw myself up to my full six feet (in five inch stilettos)tell him he was old enough to be my grandpa and to knock it off? No, I did not. I, Goddess help me, giggled. I blushed and giggled like a twelve year old girl. I am, to this very day, ashamed of myself.
I do not consider myself a Nicholson fan. I’ve enjoyed plenty of his movies, and admire him as an actor, but I’ve long since passed the point in my life where meeting famous people is a thrill. It can be a nice experience and certainly interesting, but not generally a cause to get one’s underthings in a knot. So why was this an exception?
Confidence. When he made that gesture he had complete confidence that it was going to work. There was no doubt about whether he was too old, or we were too young, or what people would think of him for doing it. He just went for it. Maybe that’s just what charisma boils down to: a lack of self doubt. For an over-thinker like me, it’s a pretty great lesson. Don’t worry about what others do (after all you can’t really control that) just go full steam ahead. If it doesn’t work, well, at least you had fun making the attempt.
This is what I think about every time I put on these shoes: walk tall, believe in yourself and what you’re doing, and if all else fails, a little flirtation won’t kill you.