Characteristics and perceptions of attractiveness in women

¶ … airs as icy as a New York winter, she sauntered into the dining room. Her long, jet black hair shimmered in tandem with the sequins on her dress. Heels clicked and clacked on the wooden floors, broadcasting her presence. Sometimes her perfume heralded her arrival before her shoes did. Tonight her scent was a hundred percent rose with leaf, root, and thorn included.

She strutted with her chin just a tad too high, making eye contact with none but a select few who crossed her path. A smile was even rarer than the sight of her dark eyes. Her lips were pursed and purposefully pouty. At work I have tried to coax the corners of her mouth into turning upwards, and I have failed. When I speak with her, she usually gazes back with a mixture of disgust and desire. Only once have I heard Angelina laugh. When she did the sound seemed alien.

In candlelight her beauty is almost unbearable. I usually look away, to avoid embarrassing myself. Now I steal another glance. Looking at her is like gazing into a flame. Those who chose to stare saw flickering shadows, never revealing the same face twice. One minute she was a playful girl, the next a saddened crone. She seems sad tonight, her erect posture belying a heavy weight she carried inside. The deliberateness with which she sits down makes her seem stiff, as if all her actions were rehearsed in advance. Angelina always seems on, like a television news anchor who never takes a commercial break.

Oceans of sadness issued from her eyes tonight. Her pupils are barely visible. She has lined her eyes in thick, heavy purple pen liner and many coats of mascara. The lashes touch her eyelids. The impenetrable aura that Angelina created around herself was beginning to show wear. I deliberately put my briefcase on the seat next to mine, and she took the bait. She asked if the seat was free. Yes, I said. It happened to be free. I looked straight ahead, matching her aloofness. Her scent drove me mad, and I struggled to concentrate on the dinner meeting.

Angelina took out her Blackberry and diligently took notes when the boss spoke, her eyes furiously darting from speaker to gadget. Her fingernails were so long that she gripped her stylus strangely, with her thumb sticking out. Perfect primping covered up any flaws she might have, and none were apparent. Angelina was too skillful to appear human. As she listened and typed, Angelina crossed and uncrossed her legs. Her stockings are mostly black, edged with rich brocade. Her knees are bony, her feet encased in Jimmy Choo. She wears no watch and no jewelry but for a gold chain so thin a spider could have spun it.

Two years ago Angelina graduated cum laude from Harvard Business School and found work easily at our firm as one of the top recruits. She enjoyed a well-deserved reputation as a marketing maven. As much as she stood off and away from her coworkers, she developed strong bonds with clients that made her one of the top candidates for the upcoming promotion. Thus, Angelina's chilly demeanor did not adversely impact her ability to produce. She knew how to perform, just not how to make friends. Her brains were the only match for her beauty.