“She remained a long while at her dressing table…. She simply sat gazing into the mirror. And so in perhaps the truest sense she was at home, content at last with the half-glimpsed memories and dreams—with illusions of Marlene created and re-created for decades.”
— DONALD SPOTO,
Blue Angel: The Life of Marlene Dietrich1
The magician displays his empty hand one moment, releases a soaring white dove the next. Now you see it, now you don’t. This classic sleight of hand remains mysterious to the clapping audience. The glorious white bird appears out of the air from nothingness. Like the performer onstage, the narcissist is a conjurer, creating his magic by reinventing himself. The self that he perfects is his persona, that part of himself that he presents to the world. He mistakes this image for the real self, as he deludes others with his compelling charade.
Celeste wanted to be an actress since she could remember. She began to etch her finely crafted persona as a young girl when she changed her name from Susan Mae to Celeste. The name Celeste had a ring of drama; it made her feel unique, a stand-out. A gold-spun, sun-streaked blonde, with a gorgeous slip of a nose and large emerald green eyes, Celeste knew from the beginning that she was beautiful, a miniature star shining in the constellation of her family.
Even as a child, Celeste was fixated and mesmerized by her appearance. She adored having her picture taken. She stood in front of any camera, endlessly practicing a variety of facial expressions and body poses. She was thrilled with the eye of the camera fixing itself on her alone. Like Narcissus of the ancient myth, Celeste spent many hours gazing into the mirror. She was enthralled by what she saw…a perfectly symmetrical face that had neither a “good” nor a “bad” side. Watching herself in the mirror became an obsession. She was overwhelmed by her own physical beauty.
Unable to be true to himself and incapable of genuine introspection, the narcissist spins stories of an elaborate self out of whole cloth. If he has been told from childhood that he is superior to others—more handsome, brilliant, talented, gifted—the molding of this false self is familiar and natural to him. Like an artist who never finishes a favorite painting, the narcissist obsessively builds and refines a series of elaborate identities.
Robert, a computer sales executive, always felt superior to everyone he met. This sense of entitlement began when he was very young. Although he performed quite well in school, he was by no means a gifted student. When he didn’t get straight A’s, it was the teacher’s fault. Although he was ordinary-looking, Robert was convinced that he was a very handsome man who could attract any woman he wanted. He viewed himself as sophisticated, worldly, and a gifted raconteur. Robert dressed expensively and meticulously. He told everyone that he owned his home, when the truth of the matter was that he had leased a house for the last ten years. He spent an unusual amount of time and money on his face and hair. Although he was only thirty-five years old, Robert had already undergone several plastic surgeries, including an eyebrow lift and an eye job. To achieve a razor-sharp jawline, he had liposuction under his chin to remove what he perceived as excess fat. He fretted over each new gray hair and arranged to have his hairdresser microscopically examine his head at regular intervals. During these sessions he insisted that the hairdresser dye even one hair that had turned gray. Robert avidly read books about how to become successful, including all the steps necessary to make a good first impression on others. He followed each step, like an actor practicing his lines, using specific phrases from these how-to books in his professional presentations. Everything about him was rehearsed and planned. He left nothing to chance. This way he was always in control of his image.
Image is not reality. Yet today it appears to project great power. Image can be a beautiful illusion—a gorgeous young, lithe woman walking toward us; an exquisitely formed piece of fruit glistening in the sun; the curves of an elegantly designed car. In the last few decades the appearance of things has become a substitution for reality. People are judged more than ever by the external package that they create and how it is received by others. Age is a relevant example. Fifty years ago it was not nearly as objectionable for women in particular to show visible signs of aging. Today it is viewed as some exotic type of character flaw. The percentage of face-lifts has grown astronomically within the last few years. In some social circles it has become a necessary rite of passage for a woman to have a face-lift by the age of fifty. Many women are addicted to youth-enhancing procedures performed regularly by their dermatologists and plastic surgeons. A nip here and a tuck there are all part of today’s accepted aesthetic landscape.
Many women (and men) are highly secretive about their plastic surgeries. I have sat across from many female acquaintances whose skin was so tightly pulled that I thought their faces would explode. They are compelled to undergo these procedures, even though there is the possibility of the job being severely botched. On more than one occasion I have encountered women, whom I have known for a long time, who present me with a visual surprise: eyes, brows, cheeks, and jowls are newly lifted and finely smoothed. Every facial feature is pulled to the limit, snare-drum tight. Not one word is spoken about the “work.” These individuals believe that their postsurgical startled look goes unnoticed. There are others who simply appear one day looking “refreshed”—ten to fifteen years younger. They are giddy with the pleasure of their new façade. Some who admit to the procedures exclaim, “This has changed my life,” as if they have accomplished some great deed.
Today, aging is no longer acceptable. Those who allow themselves to age naturally are considered defective. As the inner body systems go through their slow and inevitable process of decay, the face and outer body must project sensuality and newness. This is the latest commandment: “Thou shalt not look old.” The addiction to cosmetic procedures emphasizes the externals rather than the inner, real self. The romance with the external image represents a pathological fear of death, the last taboo.
An essential quality of a great person is his persistent search for the truth. He uses his gifts not to deify himself but to contribute to the whole of life. A great man is aware of those who suffer and are in need and extends his efforts to alleviate and carry the burden that they bear. He lifts the spirits of those who are weak and desperate. He gives his time and attention unequivocally. He does not “pencil others in.” By this I mean the common current practice of pretending to be attentive when someone is in trouble (financially, emotionally, physically) by producing all the right words and gestures. But when the going gets heavy and the extra extension of one’s time and energy is needed, this person is nowhere to be found. Impatient and uninterested, the pencil-others-in folks are put off by the misfortune or tragedy that has befallen a neighbor, acquaintance, relative, or friend, especially if the situation is prolonged.
The great man is there for the long haul, the arduous ups and downs, the dizzying roller-coaster ride. He will not abandon the weak, ill, terrified, distraught, despairing, or financially ruined. His sense of time is not four or five precious minutes resentfully doled out. The great man is concerned with shouldering the pain and the burden while using the resources of his head, heart, and body to work toward a resolution of the crisis. He brings a sense of hope and calmness to an embattled individual, much like the loving mother who comforts her wailing child with her touch and tender murmurings long into the night until the storm has passed.
What is a great man? Who were and are the great men? There appear to be so few at the moment. These are the real questions. What is reality and what is illusion? What is the distinction between public and private, and where is the balance that we must find between them in a lifetime? Can we achieve in the world and be a monster in private and still be considered a great man (or woman)? Absolutely not! We must look at the microcosm and the macrocosm to understand the truth of an individual human being. There are no grace notes when we evaluate a life. Everything counts.
The narcissist is always preoccupied with the impression he is making. This is particularly critical when he decides that he must win someone over to achieve personal gain or satisfaction. Narcissists are perfectionists. For some, everything in their environment—homes, cars, personal effects—must reflect a flawless self. Walking through some of these homes, I have wondered if anyone lives there. There is not one sign of human habitation: no footprints on rugs or carpets, no finger marks on furniture or mirrors, no body or cooking aromas or whiffs of faded perfume, no towel askew, no couch cushion indentations, no stain, no dust, no scuff, no smudge. I call this narcissistic compulsion “perfection of the externals.” Every aspect of their outward environments must be kept in pristine condition at all times. Some people move from one lovely house to another again and again because they must have the next “new thing.” There are others who continually remodel, spending innumerable hours choosing just the right color and texture of granite, wood flooring, paint. Doing, undoing, and redoing one’s external living environment has become the centerpiece of many life dramas. Some individuals lead their entire lives exclusively on a surface level. They are incapable of introspection, the process of going inside oneself. Their focus is on the material. By this I mean physical appearance, professional and economic status, societal power. High scores on these indices represent a very successful life for these people. Their sense of identity is based on their achievements in the world or the amplification, exaggeration, or fabrication of these accomplishments. As Western society has become more narcissistic, the emphasis on material attainment as a basic life value has overshadowed the inner search and the journey toward greater insight and awareness.
Perfection of the externals can be achieved through one’s children. A strong example of this occurs when a parent is unable to lead his own life. I know a woman who purposely met and married a surgical resident in neurology because such a marriage represented prestige for her and the perfect child she would produce.
George, the unwitting husband, never realized even after a long marriage that his wife, Gemma, had been using him to suit her narcissistic purposes. She would create a superchild, like an artist working slabs of clay into a masterpiece. When George completed his residency and was securely ensconced in private practice, Gemma deliberately became pregnant. As soon as this was accomplished, she quit her job and began her role as “the mother for all ages.” From birth, Sophia was in her mother’s company day and night. Gemma taught, coached, and trained her charge to excel in reading, writing, math, and several languages. She knew she was raising a prodigy. Sophia was both prodded and rewarded for her accomplishments. She was continually told how superior she was to other children her age.
Long before Sophia finished an elite private grade school, Gemma was already planning her daughter’s university career. Sophia was psychologically fused with her mother and never really rebelled or separated from her emotionally. After giving birth to Sophia, Gemma began a pattern of completely ignoring George. He was a source of financial stability, nothing more. A workaholic, he spent up to seven days a week in his surgical practice. During short spaces of time when he was not on call, he managed to have numerous affairs with nurses, administrative hospital staff, and other female physicians. Gemma and George were living in the same house but leading separate lives.
Gemma’s entire identity was connected to Sophia’s accomplishments. Gemma had no life of her own. Every thought, plan, and action was obsessively devoted to the perfection of Sophia. During Sophia’s last two years in high school, Gemma began a high-gear campaign to get her child into one of the top Ivy League universities. She mined these fields through her friends and her husband’s professional contacts. Gemma was consumed night and day, calling one person after another, studying every book possible to ensure that her prodigy would be installed in the “right” university. She contacted a distant relative who was strategically placed at one of the coveted schools. Twisting his arm, begging him, Gemma was able to get Sophia’s applications and interviews seriously considered. At last her daughter was accepted to the university Gemma had chosen when Sophia was in diapers. Sophia went on to do graduate work in France. Eventually, she emigrated there. Mother Gemma visited her daughter often and kept in the back of her mind a plan to become an expatriate in France. This way she would always be near the priceless treasure she had created.
Narcissists pursue women and men that possess certain attributes that they require to be a part of their unique oeuvre. In his personal life, the narcissist, male or female, usually chooses a partner or spouse who is physically attractive if not drop-dead handsome or beautiful. A narcissist would never purposely choose an ugly man or woman as a partner unless there was an ulterior motive.
In the current narcissistic climate, individuals who are physically stunning are highly prized. Flawless taut skin, symmetrical features, luxurious hair, distinctly beautiful prominent eyes, a perfect figure or physique—these are some of the aesthetic characteristics the narcissist is seeking in others. These become living, breathing narcissistic, ego-enhancing supplies, indistinguishable from the narcissist.
Besides outward appearances, the narcissist often picks talented people who will make him look brighter and more creative or clever. Naturally, he takes all of the credit for every battle won or accomplishment achieved. Those who live or work for him must perform beyond perfection. Regardless of his irrational, bizarre standards, the servant of the narcissist is expected to reach and exceed them. No mistakes or missteps are permitted. Although gravely flawed, the narcissist perceives himself as incapable of making errors.
Lizette’s parents couldn’t have been more proud when she was graduated with honors from a first-rate northeastern university. The summer after graduation she contacted an acquaintance whose mother was a high-level executive in television. She quickly obtained a personal interview through her connections and was soon hired as an assistant writer for a sitcom pilot. Besides extraordinary confidence and drive, Lizette possessed a striking physical appearance. She had taken all the courses at school that qualified her to write for this specific genre. She rose in her career as if she had been waiting for the opportunity all her life. While climbing the ladder, Lizette feigned a kind of humility and deference to her superiors. She was competent, delivering just the right scripts when they were needed. She became known as an indispensable script doctor of characters or scenes that were not working. Lizette befriended Brenda, the head scriptwriter for one of the most popular and profitable television shows on the network. Brenda learned quickly that she could depend on Lizette to produce acceptable scripts on time without complaint or comment. Lizette kept her opinion of Brenda to herself. She saw Brenda as a plodder, a secondary player, a useful tool to ease her way forward. For several years she played a role as Brenda’s obedient student. Finally it was time for Lizette to make her move. She began a smear campaign against Brenda, dropping carefully crafted remarks in the right places to the effect that her mentor had lost her edge, her writing was no longer as sharp and clear or even innovative and entertaining. Lizette made sure to speak to the right people, those who would be able to make decisions about the advancement of her career. She began a hot affair with one of the high-level bosses just to seal the deal. The following season Brenda was passed over and transferred to another department, where she would work on much less ambitious projects.
Lizette was currently the head writer for a top show. She luxuriated in her success. As her sense of entitlement swelled, she became increasingly difficult, a certified diva. Though often late or absent from meetings, Lizette demanded that her subordinates arrive early if they were scheduled to meet with her. She often spoke through her executive assistant if she didn’t want to face some situation where she had made some critical mistake. Lizette played hardball with company executives, knowing that they would put up with almost anything to keep her. She knew precisely how valuable she was to the organization.
Lizette pushed her underlings to the limit—often screaming and shouting that they were stupid idiots and she didn’t understand why she had to work with such “mental pygmies.” Once she decided that an employee should be axed, she went after his planned demise with sadistic satisfaction. Lizette at times became physical with her complaints. She ripped up entire scripts, thrusting them to the floor as she screamed four-letter words at the top of her lungs: “This is not the quality product I expect. This is pure shit! Someone’s going to pay dearly for such crappy work.” Because she had become so indispensable in the minds of company executives, Lizette was deeply indulged and forgiven for her many inappropriate, clinically troubling, personality quirks. She came close to being fired several times but cunningly manipulated her bosses, pulling herself back from the brink. She felt triumphant, saying to herself: “You ridiculous fools. I’ve beat you at your own game once more.” Lizette repeated her mantra: “I’m always right. What’s the matter with you? I’ve never made a mistake, so if something goes wrong, it’s your fault.”
To this day Lizette continues her reign of terror, extracting high-level performances mixed with humiliation and fear from those who cross her professional path. She is not any easier or more understanding with those who share her personal life. Here, as in her career, she is careful to pick those who always feel like inadequate damaged goods, despite their redeeming human qualities. They sacrifice themselves, playing the role of masochistic victim to satisfy Lizette’s delusional demands.
It is quite unlikely that Lizette, a narcissistic personality, will change either in behavior or character. Throughout her life, she will hold unrealistic expectations of others and make sure that they fail to meet them. No one will ever be good enough for her.
Beneath the bravado and grandiose actions of the narcissist we behold a psychological portrait that is dark, painful, and menacing. Backstage, the truth about this character is revealed in all of its deception, manipulation, and cruelty.