Who's That?

(This is another piece from my now-defunct essay blog.)

When a woman walks into a room, she commands attention from everyone. She doesn’t even have to be beautiful; she only has to be a woman. Ugly Betty could enter a room and turn the heads of men and women alike. Women have an aura about them that gets them noticed. Other women quickly see a woman who has just entered a room and size her up as many things – a rival, a potential friend, an inspiration. They want to be like her. Men start wondering about her. “Is she an actress?” Is she a doctor?” “Wonder what she looks like with her hair down?” They want to be with her.

When a man walks into a room . . . no one cares. Men inspire neither mystery nor mystique. The have to be preened up, primped up, and pumped up to even get a notice. Women don’t care about men. They don’t even like men. Even other men don’t care when a man steps into a room. Men always have to have their arrivals announced: “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States!” Even the Pope needs an introduction when he becomes pope: “Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum: habemus Papam!” Ever notice how those old American Express commercials seemed to work better with Pele, Pavarotti, and Barry Goldwater’s running mate than with Roberta Peters? “Do you know me?” Uh, no, I don’t.

Men don’t inspire or fear each other. They can’t even stand each other. You think Abraham Lincoln and Stephen Douglas tolerated being on the same stage? So how could a man enter a room and attract attention? Mr. Jones walked into a room with a pencil in his hand, and something was happening, and he didn’t know what it was. No one else knew. No one else cared – least of all about Mr. Jones. When a man does walk into a room, he’ll only inspire, if anything, remarks like: “What, did someone just come in?” “Didn’t he use to be someone I knew?” “His shoe lace is untied.” Even a man who looks like he shops at Barneys New York or stepped out of an advertisement in GQ won’t draw much attention. He might provoke some curiosity; one or two people might wonder if he’s gay.

Well, maybe some debonair men can pull off an auralike effect. Sean Connery. Roger Moore. Pierce Brosnan. But certainly not James Bond, the man the all portrayed; even 007 had to introduce himself. “Bond. James Bond.” A fictional secret agent man, including one who’s been given a number but having kept his name, may be able to introduce himself quietly, but most men can’t do so in real life. Even Elvis Presley need to shake his hips and sneer to get attention. When he walked down Los Angeles’s Sunset Boulevard one day in 1968 while preparing to film his now-legendary TV special, no one so much as recognized him. British rock and rollers – who couldn’t attract attention until they grew their hair – had already stolen his thunder. Elvis had indeed left the building.

A woman who so much as steps into a room and the eyes of everyone are on her, as John F. Kennedy, the man who accompanied Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy to Paris, could have told you. A man has to yell and shout to get noticed. Ask Chris Matthews.

The best thing about a woman is the she can walk out of a room and still leave a sense of aura behind, as well as a lot of curiosity. “Who was she?” “I’d like to meet her.” “She has beautiful eyes.” When a man leaves the room, you hear: “Did someone say something?” “Where’s that waiter?” “I wonder what’s on TV tonight.” “Cigarette?” “No thanks, I don’t smoke.”

Out of sight, never in mind. Oh, never mind.