My daring came late in life, partly because I was a stutterer in my early years.
    I was afraid to raise my hand in class at the private boarding school my
    parents chose, even though I knew the answer to the teacher's question.  I did
    not want to be different.  In fact, the only thing I liked about the school was
    the uniform, a white blouse and navy blue jumper.  We all looked alike, and
    I found that comforting then.  I thought about joining the army when I grew
    up, but I had learned in childhood that I was not good at following orders.

    It takes self-assurance to develop your own style, the joie de vivre that
    usually comes with maturity.  We can ripen at thirty, fifty, or seventy. It's not
    a dead end.  "Maturity is a place you never actually reach," says Dr. Edward
    Stainbrook, founder of USC's School of Human Behavior, "Just be sure
    you're on the right road to do it.  Check your direction, not the calendar."

    It's all a conspiracy, you know, this age business. When the eternal Zsa Zsa
    Gabor was asked which of the Gabors is the oldest, the outlandish Hungarian
    replied, "Well, she'd never admit it, but it's Mama."  Zsa Zsa's always had
    panache.  Questioned on how many husbands she's had, Gabor inquired,
    "You mean apart from my own?"

    I've always been opposed to counting age chronologically, even as a
    youngster.  Coming from a theatrical family I noted that the actors we
    entertained at dinner parties always looked younger than my school teachers,
    though they were in the same generation. What made the difference was
    pizzazz, a grand manner, an outrageous sense of humor.

    This is a fact: the whole world notion of slowing down, doing less, feeling
    older, and finally retiring came from Otto von Bismarck, first chancellor of
    the German empire.  Life expectancy in Germany in the 1890s was roughly
    42.  It was Bismarck who set 65 as the retirement age; he realized that not
    many workers would live to collect their financial entitlements.  That
    arbitrary number was then borrowed by Franklin Delano Roosevelt when he
    created our social security system in his second term in office.  Only now is
    the figure being challenged and upped.  (By the year 2000 one in eight
    Americans will be 65 of older).

    People with panache don't seem to age.  Their flair for life grows more
    colorful as they add new dimensions, accept new challenges, remain
    curious.  You can dress and adorn your body, "…but style is the vehicle of
    the spirit." So wrote English essayist Sydney Smith more than 150 years ago.
    And style is not the result of formal education or wealth.  I've known
    grammar school dropouts who are sparkling stars, and Ph.Ds who are black
    holes with no ball of energy inside. And as Shakespeare's King Henry VI,
    Part II declares, "Whose large style agrees not with the leaness of his purse."

    Mae West had it. Tom Wolfe in his white suits has it. Sensational Sophia
    Loren has it.  Fred Astaire and Cary Grant had it forever.  But some of the
    world's "most beautiful people" have no panache; there's no vitality, no inner
    glow.

    Panache can be shown in a gesture. Audrey Hepburn told me a story about
    her first meeting with Cary Grant (and Audrey had in it spades!): "Stanley
    Donen (the director of  "Charade" 1963) arranged this dinner so Cary and I
    could meet.  I was a bit nervous, and I just accidentally happened to knock
    over my wine glass. Cary was wearing pale gray flannel and it was red wine.
    I ruined his suit!  I felt just awful.  And he knew it. He mopped it up very
    nonchalantly.  The next day he sent me a box of candy to show he didn't
    mind, which was adorable." Now that's style!

    You don't have to be a wit to have panache, but it helps:  Noel Coward,
    Dorothy Parker, Groucho Marx, just for starters, still are frequently quoted.
    Sending a note to the hostess of a boring dinner party he attended, Marx
    wrote: "I've been to a lot of wonderful parties, but this wasn't one of them."
    A wealthy society matron in Houston, Texas likes to remark, "I married well
    and divorced better."

    I think you're born with class, but you can develop panache. And keep
    developing it.  Don't slow down; if anything, speed up.  "The course of aging
    is not time-locked," says UCLA brain researcher, Dr. Arnold B. Scheibel.  "It
    is possible for an 80-year-old to have a 30-year-old brain."  The secret is
    use.  "We know for a fact that dendrites are lost when they're not used," says
    Scheibel.  "Keep challenging your mental and emotional capacities.  Learn a
    new skill, study a new project, fall in love!"

    The word famous cellist Pablo Casals was asked why in his 90s he was still
    practicing six hours a day.  He answered, "Because I think I'm making
    progress."  (Casals lived to age 97.)

    You can have panache in any field. Gen. George Patton had it.  Donald
    Trump has it.  (Bill Gates does not have it.).  Love him or hate him, Howard
    Stern has it.  People with panache tend to be leaders, trend-setters, standouts
    from the crowd.  Elton John, Little Richard, and Tina Turner have it.  Lauren
    Bacall had it at 19 and still has it over 50 years later.  The late Princess Diana
    had it, but Prince Charles never did.  So if you have it, flaunt it, baby, flaunt
    it.  Vive le panache!

    ©Angela Fox Dunn (7-12-98)
    Los Angeles, CA 90069
 

    Biography: Angela Fox Dunn

    Journalist Angela Fox Dunn has been a syndicated celebrity profiler for 18
    years. She has interviewed some of the great stars: Fred Astaire, Lucille
    Ball, Jimmy Stewart, Bob Hope, Barbra Streisand, Michael Caine,
    Gregory Peck, Audrey Hepburn, Robert Mitchum, and many others. Ms.
    Dunn says the star who helped her the most was Lucy. "She was a giving,
    generous, loving person. Like a cactus, she was prickly on the outside, but
    soft and sweet inside. She gave me good advice and opened doors for me
    to other stars. I owe a large part of my career to Lucy." Ms. Dunn's work, both star
   interviews and service articles on a variety of subjects, has been internationally
   distributed and translated into over 60 languages. She is a member of the
   American Society of Journalists and Authors (ASJA) and is accredited by the Motion
   Picture Association of America (MPAA).