The Art of Charm

Character and kindness and brains are handy. But charm is the Swiss Army knife of virtues

Men have always been suspicious of charm. The word charm is freighted with suggestions of superficiality. It evokes images of oily 18th-century French guys in wigs, usually played by John Malkovich. We aspire to be strong, and steady in a storm. But charm isn’t always high on our ambition list.

Big mistake. Though charm is no substitute for competence, you want the arrow in your quiver. Genuine charm makes colleagues more cooperative, rivals less determined, clerks less rude, and women more eager to cuddle with you. The charm we seek is no Euro-polish, no mere liturgy of fork choice. Yes, we should be able to dine at the palace without creating an international silverware incident. But we’re after bigger game here. We’re after a graciousness of male spirit that makes etiquette seem silly.

Forget all those annoying charm tricks, like parroting a person’s name every 6 seconds or imitating his pattern of speech. The charm we seek isn’t studied or deliberate; it grows from the inside out. Once you have a charming heart, you won’t need no stinking rules for 163 different occasions. The right moves will just come to you, the way they came to Jordan once he was airborne in the lane. Here are some important charm facts.

1) Charm pays attention

Some so-called experts say lots of eye contact is the key to paying attention. Wrong. In my view, intense eye-contact stuff is creepy. To women, the term “stalker” is rarely a charming word association. And to men…well, let’s just say that when guys lock onto me with their lamps, I find myself vibing, “Hey, look somewhere else, Svengali.” Sure, now and then, it’s important to look into folks’ eyes. It’s even a pleasure to witness the plain humanity in faces. But skip the psycho-hypnotist Death Stare routine. Instead, try this broader attentiveness head game.

Every time you interact — be it an early-morning driveway exchange with a neighbor or a meeting of a dozen heroic sales reps talking over quarterly goals — imagine that you and the other guy are a chosen few, the knights of some round table. You’re in a bubble together; the rest of the world doesn’t exist. No matter how modest the exchange, feel that everything that really matters is happening right here and right now.

2) Charm is mischievous

Don’t let life’s routine put out the gleam. To wit, it’s 1965 and a father is driving along the Garden State Parkway with all nine of his clan jammed into the family Ford. Right after greeting the toll taker as though he’s actually happy to see him, our man extends a dollar, saying, “Take out for the guy behind me, too.” On the far side of the tollbooth, there is much headlight-flashing and horn-honking, kids waving in solidarity from backseats. And as the stranger sweeps by, two American fathers at full throttle salute each other. This is among the most charming dimes ever spent. The gesture had an impish quality. It said there are surprises out there yet. We need not be hobbled by habit. We’re free to resist, in little ways, the soft shackles that subdue us.

You know that woman you’re married to? Try something just a little different tonight when you get home from work. Hug her softly from behind and kiss her head tenderly. Leave her an affectionate note because she deserves an affectionate note, and because it jumps the tracks of till-death-do-us-part familiarity. This shouldn’t happen often — just now and then. Charm is just a little playful, polishes up common days.

A note on language: Cliches scream routine; they send the message that we’re just hamsters on this wheel. Consider the Grand Canyon of charm between the hackneyed “Nice to see you” and the very-similar-but-far-more-charming “It does me good to see you.” (Hit the “you” just a touch.) The first bromide sucks the air out of a room; the second twist actually suggests that a person’s mere presence is tonic for your weary soul. The charming man creates something brand new for your ears. You’re much too special for off-the-rack language; you get the custom-made.

3) Charm smiles — sort of

Technique-oriented charm mavens often recommend deploying a smile. I’m skeptical. To be sure, the full-wattage smile of an exuberant male is currency. But only if it’s the good goods. For my money, deliberate smiles tend to look just that — deliberate. Real men are quick to laughter, but they don’t slap on a grin for a purpose. They’re what Roald Dahl called “eye-smilers.” Their eyes twinkle, betraying a readiness for the game. By me, constant smiles are weak, even silly. But a glint in the eye is strong. It suggests that you’re more than momentarily amused, but rather constantly delighted by the whole ever-loving human comedy. Charm is a pilot light of possibility, not an open flame.

4) Charm thinks you’re great

According to an almost surely false legend, someone once asked Queen Victoria, who ruled for 64 years back when the throne had influence over something other than tabloids, if she preferred the company of Benjamin Disraeli or the other dazzling prime minister of her day, William Gladstone. She replied that when she dined with Mr. Gladstone she left the meal thinking he was the most interesting person in all of England, but that when she ate with Disraeli, she felt she was the most interesting person in all the realm.

That’s about as good a definition of charm as you’ll find. Our man makes others feel proud of themselves. I’ve heard F. Scott Fitzgerald get credit for the line that the greatest gift you can give anyone is to see them exactly as they wish to be seen. If he didn’t say it, I hereby claim it.

Unfortunately, sometimes this element of charm is blindsided by our Hemingway gene — also known as our stupid all-American male compulsion to tell it like it is. Hey man, whispers the gene, we haven’t got time for this bullshit or that charade. Plain truth: Seeing through people is big-time boring. It takes no ingenuity to catalog the myriad ways in which people are limited or preposterous or clumsy or vain. Fish in a barrel, my brother. The intrigue lies in digging the thousands of small ways in which many of us are splendid. Charm spotlights our gifts and is uninterested in our limitations.

Charm allows your brother the harmless belief that he’s got vertical game. People don’t have much to cling to in the storm. Make somebody feel like the most interesting person in all of England.

5) Charm appreciates

Frequent, low-key acknowledgment of our links is a hallmark of charm. Remember Mom’s wisdom: Say “Thank you” to the nice man. Be grateful for even small considerations. Get epistolary. No, this doesn’t mean buy a handgun. It’s just a fancy phrase I’ve been trying to trot out ever since I learned it in college. It means “Write letters.” In our rat-a-tat-tat, e-mail, download world, letter writing is a potent weapon. Actually, letters are too much work. Try notes. Master the art of the high-minded seven-word note.

Buy the following charm equipment: (1) Some cream-colored personalized stationery. (I like initials centered up top, but I’m not rigid.) (2) A fountain pen. Yup, a fountain pen. Just do it. (3) A book of stamps. Stash the supplies in your desk. And every now and then, whip off a brief note of thanks to whomever — a business associate for a meal, your mother for teaching you how to swim, your buddy for lying to the cops.

The language should be simple and straightforward. It should feel like a fragment, just a yelp of much-obliged. It’s best if you have dashing penmanship, but your crabbed scrawl will do. Phone calls of thanks are okay; e-mails, too. But both are dwarfed by a handwritten huzzah delivered through the U.S. Postal Service. The moment of opening a letter is truly intimate. The sender had you in his heart as his sentiments passed through pen to paper.

6) Charm remembers

Who among us hasn’t met (or been) the following perfect example of not-charming? Prince Charmless takes the new guy out for lunch — not his idea, the boss’s. Over burgers, Fresh Meat mentions that this past summer he climbed Everest and earned that jagged scar across his face in a close encounter with an ice cave. Four days later, Mr. Clueless asks New Man if he’s ever done any serious hiking.

We’re often so swamped and/or self-centered that information about others bounces off our brains. It’s not that we forget what folks tell us, but that we never actually bother to download the info in the first place. When you first meet somebody, or when an acquaintance reveals some new little wrinkle, make a mental note of a few key details. (“Andy is a bagpiper and beekeeper.”) If you’ve got a lousy memory, buy a little book and jot things down. Later, when you trot out the detail you remembered, he’ll be pleased that his story found some space in your hard drive,

7) Charm is contrarian

Just as gems are valuable in proportion to their rarity, so too with some parts of the charm equation. Since we live in times that are informal and smart-assed, he who would stand out should swim against the tide — be a little bit formal, and even, dare I say, sincere.

Speak with just a trace of courtliness. “Forsooth” is not required. But in our “Yo, bro” age, old-fashioned phrases like, “I beg your pardon” and, “I hope I haven’t disturbed you,” mark you as a…what’s that word? Oh, yeah…a gentleman. Through the talk-radio spew, politeness actually makes a distinctive noise. Same goes for being plainspoken. In our sarcastic society, we’ve lost the male power of plainness. We’ve been diminished by the need to be clever, to make a joke out of everything. A charming man says what he thinks. Straight up, like whiskey. No smirks. No winks. It’s no snap to go through an entire day saying exactly what you mean — without teasing, without any irony in your voice. Because we live in compulsively ironic times, plain often becomes quite charming.

8) Charm sings

Perhaps the most common male obstacle to charm is a little grouch who lives inside lots of men’s heads. This grouch is suspicious of enthusiasm, of exuberance. Most of our fathers, not to mention most icons of male strength, are understated, strong, silent types. We often confuse strength with severity. And we’re just the slightest bit reluctant to risk being shamelessly upbeat.

Ten minutes ago, I overheard one of my colleagues shout out to another, “You make my job fun.” He said it in a straight-ahead tone, joyful in his gratitude, unashamed by the simplicity of the sentiment. Charming. Strong. “I hate a song that makes you feel you’re no good,” said the troubadour Woody Guthrie. “I’m out to fight those songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood.” Charm has the confidence to sing praises.

9) Charm is on a mission

Most of the charming men I’ve known are dashing, with a trace of the military officer about them. This doesn’t mean they’ll ask you to drop and give them 50, but just that they emanate a sense of shared purpose. We’re in this together, sergeant. My father somehow managed to make you feel as though you and he were on a mission together — a mission to enjoy each other and to be grateful for everything you had. He made you feel as though he were a commissioned officer, charged with an obligation to shine up the small corners of every day.

The final truth about male charm is in The Music Man, the Meredith Wilson musical featuring our irresistible American rogue, Professor Harold Hill. Our man sells the parents of River City, Iowa, on the idea that the town needs a boys’ band. Further, he peddles the Think System of musical instruction. Pay me now, goes his spiel, and the instruments will arrive next week, and presto, 76 trombones in the morning sun.

The moms and dads want to believe that their kids are special and that there’s beauty somewhere out there. When the charlatan Hill is revealed and he’s high-tailing it out of town ahead of a mob equipped with tar and feathers, he runs into Winthrop, the little boy who has fallen under his spell and is crushed by the thought that his hero is a shill. When the kid indicts him for pretending there was a band, Hill pauses for a moment and replies, as though just realizing something about himself, “I always think there’s a band, kid.”

Our man, the ultimate charmer, has fooled himself. He, too, wants to believe. He’s determined in his soul to make the air sweeter. Finally, charm is no trick. It’s not superficial at all. It’s as deep as love. Charm is a generous con, a willingness of the heart. Charm hears the music, and wants to help you hear it, too.

This piece originally appeared in Men’s Health Magazine.