The power of the strut !

There are a lot of things that make Olivia Pope the extraordinary, intimidating woman she is. Or rather should I say the extraordinarly intimidating woman she is.

There’s the clothes of course; the Valentinos and the Armanis and the Guccis… The designer shoes, the elegant accesories, the perfect hairtsyle and then there’s the strut. The way she carries herself in the world. The way she enters a room or walks down the streets & makes everyone in her way want to curl in a blanket.

And that is ridiculous really because the woman is as petite as can be but in that moment, to those people, Olivia Pope is the tallest, most intimidating person in the world.

So, after watching countless episodes of Scandal -All of them really…numerous times- and seen Olivia Pope struting her way to the top or … to Fitz’s arms, I decided that I, too, want to strut my way up to the top. The top of what exactly? I will let you know when I’ll have a clear answer to that.

Anyways, one morning, I was wearing these knee-high leather boots who are supposed to be flat but were making an awful lot of noise with every step that I took. Too embarrassed of the racket I was causing, I stopped walking for a minute to take the prying eyes off of me. And that’s when it happened. That’s when I thought :

“Why are you feeling so apologetic about something as trivial as walking down the streets? So what your boots are waking up some neighbours & annoying a few grumpy people? OWN IT! Don’t apologise for it!”

And with that, I resumed walking with a newfound confidence and what is that? yes! with badassery! I was walking with badassery. And I wasn’t walking really. I was struting. I was Olivia Pope ! sans designer shoes, I’ll give you that.

With each step that I took, my mind would wander a little bit further. Feeling utterly confident, I could imagine myself being whoever I wanted to be. Suddenly, I was not a law freshman on her way to university.

Suddenly, I was …

This minx of a woman, oozing sexuality. Making head turns, mouths water & jaw drops everywhere I go. The wind is blowing in my hair wafting my perfume into the air. I know that the people I encounter in my way will remember me for days to come : That vixen with the enchanting scent & the hypnotizing strut. 

The businesswoman. Very successful. Very powerful. Very influential and very late for my first meeting of the day. I walk in the streets with my coffee in one hand and my “to die for, every woman is swooning over, limited edition” briefcase in the other. When you see me, there’s one thought that comes to your mind : “I better not mess with her”. But you also want to be my friend -Wouldn’t want to be a social pariah in my fantasy. Real life is enough.- The point is there’s something about that woman in a hurry. How can she manage to draw people in in a situation where most persons are usually repulsing? It’s her confidence. Her strut. 

The nice girl. A little shy. Kind of an introvert. My clothes don’t stand out. My shoes are definitely not designer shoes. My hair is … well you’re still trying to figure out what my hair is and after minutes of staring at it you’ll probably decide to call it a mess. I don’t make head turns or mouths water. There’s a great chance that I will curse at the sky if the wind blows in my hair. There’s nothing to die for about my old bag and when you see me you’ll probably think “I bet I can take advantage of her kindness”. 

That’s me.

In all of my unflattering light.

I’m geniune though. And Honest. Kind and Caring. Does that earn me some vixen cookies? No?

Alright, no.

But just so you know, the fact that you don’t see the vixen in me or the “dont’ mess with her” businesswoman doesn’t mean that they don’t exist. It doesn’t mean that they’re not waiting for their time to come out and take the world by a storm.

And now that I’ve started struting in true Olivia Pope fashion I only have one advice :

Watch out for the nice girl.


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