Executive Presence

Have you ever wondered why some people seem to instantly command attention and respect in any room—while others, equally smart and capable, struggle to be noticed? Sylvia Ann Hewlett’s Executive Presence: The Missing Link Between Merit and Success begins with this haunting question. Hewlett argues that career success isn’t just about performance or talent. It’s about perception—how convincingly you project confidence, poise, and authenticity so others believe you belong at the top.

That elusive quality, Hewlett explains, is called Executive Presence (EP). It’s not what you do but what you signal. Whether in politics, art, or business, leaders like Barack Obama, Sheryl Sandberg, or Nelson Mandela radiate an aura that says, “I’ve got this.” They telegraph control, composure, and clarity under pressure. Hewlett contends that mastering this combination of gravitas, communication, and appearance—the three pillars of EP—can be a career multiplier. Without it, even the most competent professionals may never get their moment to lead.

Cracking the Code of Perception

Based on exhaustive research by the Center for Talent Innovation, Hewlett’s team surveyed nearly 4,000 professionals and 268 senior executives to identify what really drives EP. They found that 67% of leaders believe gravitas—the ability to project weight and credibility—is the core of executive presence. Communication accounts for about 28%, while appearance—although it gets only 5% in surveys—acts as the first crucial filter. People form impressions of your competence and likability within 250 milliseconds, according to research from Harvard Medical School.

Hewlett’s insight is not only that image matters, but that projecting leadership can be learned. “Cracking the EP code,” she writes, means learning to telegraph your value before you open your mouth. The behaviors that communicate gravitas and poise aren’t innate gifts reserved for charismatic stars—they’re a set of learnable skills that anyone can practice and refine.

Why Executive Presence Matters

EP is not a decorative layer on top of competence—it’s the gateway to opportunity. Without it, your hard work might remain invisible. Hewlett illustrates this through vivid stories, like the classical musicians whose performances were judged not by their skill, but by how they looked walking onstage. In a study she cites, audiences shown silent videos of piano competitions were better at identifying winners than those who could actually hear the performances. The visual, not the musical, cues carried more weight. The same logic applies to boardrooms and client meetings. Image and presence set the stage for credibility long before performance can speak for itself.

But Hewlett also cautions that EP is fragile. She shares her own story of losing and rebuilding professional gravitas after a public setback—proving that reputation, once damaged, takes painstaking effort to restore. EP, she warns, must be continuously cultivated through self-awareness and disciplined attention to how you act, speak, and look.

The Three Pillars of Executive Presence

At the foundation of the book are the three interdependent pillars of EP:

• Gravitas: The visible quality of leadership strength—projecting confidence, integrity, credibility, and “grace under fire.” It’s about how you carry yourself and how you handle crises with poise.
• Communication: The ability to capture attention, command a room, and connect with diverse audiences. Speaking clearly, listening empathetically, and reading the room are essential elements.
• Appearance: The visual dimension that signals professionalism and control. Though not about beauty, it’s about polish, grooming, and appropriateness.

Together, these elements shape whether others view you as capable of leadership. Fail to align them, and the dissonance can derail your credibility—as Hewlett’s many examples demonstrate.

Navigating Bias and Authenticity

Hewlett does not sidestep the social complexity of EP. For women, minorities, or LGBTQ professionals, the challenge is doubled. The dominant leadership model—still largely straight, white, and male—forces others to “pass” or conform to narrow definitions of credibility. Hewlett includes powerful accounts from executives like Michelle Gadsden-Williams and Cornel West, who both leveraged their differences instead of erasing them. The book’s later chapters explore how authenticity can be reconciled with conformity, urging professionals to build presence grounded in their real identity rather than mimicry.

This tension between fitting in and standing out courses through the entire book. Hewlett insists that long-term leadership success depends on authenticity: “You can learn to stand with the crowd, but to truly lead—you must also stand apart.”

Why This Book Matters Today

In a global, hyperconnected age where every presentation, meeting, and even Zoom call shapes perceptions, Executive Presence is more than etiquette—it’s strategy. Hewlett’s research-based insights equip you to understand the invisible rules of perception that determine career advancement. Her approach is pragmatic: EP can be cultivated through mentorship, feedback, and intentional self-presentation. Yet she remains philosophical about its purpose. Mastering EP is not about vanity or deception; it’s about enabling your substance to shine through the fog of bias and noise.

By the end, Hewlett redefines leadership not as a status conferred by title but as a performance of trust earned through presence. The question she leaves you with is powerful: not “Do I have executive presence?” but “What signals am I sending—and how do they align with the leader I want to be?”

Gravitas, the Latin root meaning “weight” or “seriousness,” forms the heart of executive presence. Hewlett’s research found that senior leaders equate gravitas with credibility—an ability to convey steadiness, humility, and decisiveness even under fire. If you project gravitas, people trust that you can handle serious responsibility; if you don’t, your technical skill alone can’t save you.

Grace Under Fire

Consider Bob Dudley of BP during the Gulf of Mexico oil spill. As chaos unfolded and reporters demanded answers, Dudley’s composure and measured empathy distinguished him from his defensive predecessor Tony Hayward, whose infamous remark—“I’d like my life back”—destroyed his credibility overnight. Dudley projected calm accountability, proving that in crisis, tone equals leadership. Gravitas demands self-control that reassures others even when outcomes are uncertain.

Other examples underscore this quality: Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger’s cool decisions during the Hudson River landing, or Angela Merkel’s stoic diplomacy in the Eurozone crisis. Hewlett calls this “grace under fire,” a phrase that defines leaders who radiate stability without arrogance.

Decisiveness and Integrity

Gravitas also lives in decision-making. Hewlett tells how Coors executive Lynn Utter, newly appointed as a division head, earned respect by boldly supporting a risky investment that others hesitated to back. Her data-driven conviction and clear statement—“Either we step up, or we call it off”—turned hesitation into action. Leaders who “show teeth” judiciously project confidence by making the hard calls that others avoid.

Integrity intertwines with decisiveness. Tim Melville-Ross, former CEO of the UK’s Nationwide Building Society, admitted publicly to a short-lived unethical pricing decision, apologized in the press, and invited public scrutiny. Paradoxically, this vulnerability strengthened his credibility. Transparency in error signals strength, not weakness—a reminder that integrity is the currency of trust.

Emotional Intelligence and Vision

Gravitas without empathy often mutates into arrogance. Hewlett contrasts Mitt Romney’s tone-deaf campaign gaffes with Barack Obama’s calm mastery of emotional resonance. Emotional intelligence (EQ), popularized by Daniel Goleman, allows leaders to read a room and adjust. Kent Gardiner of Crowell & Moring demonstrated this by defusing hostile negotiations through calm reframing—turning fights into dialogue. Hewlett’s message: you don’t need bluster to lead; you need balance.

Vision completes the gravitas triad. Steve Jobs and Cosmopolitan editor Joanna Coles succeed not only because of skill but because their conviction and clarity magnetize people. Job’s black turtleneck became as symbolic as his products—a visual shorthand for focus and innovation. Coles reshaped fashion media by fusing glamour with substance, showing that conviction fuels presence.

Cultivating Gravitas Day by Day

Hewlett closes this section with practical advice: surround yourself with people smarter than you (it signals confidence, not insecurity), share credit generously, and admit your limits. Humility, consistency, and faithfulness to your values are the quiet engines of gravitas. These habits build trust long before the spotlight hits you.

“Without gravitas,” Hewlett reminds us, “you may do the job well, but you'll never look the part. With it, you can lead even before you’re given the title.”

Communication is the bridge between credibility and influence. Hewlett’s own story—transforming her Welsh accent at Cambridge to fit British high society—reveals how voice and language shape perception. She learned early that what matters is not only what you say but how you say it. A confident tone, upright posture, and eye contact can inspire trust long before your words sink in.

The Language of Leadership

Hewlett categorizes communication excellence into six traits: speaking skills, assertiveness, the ability to read a room, humor and banter, body language and posture, and clarity. These combine into one test: can you engage others quickly and keep their attention? The best communicators, like TED Talk speakers, win audiences not through dense content but through emotion, energy, and rhythm.

For instance, Suzi Digby, a British choral conductor, coaches executives to use silence like a rest in music—pausing to build anticipation. Sallie Krawcheck, the former Wall Street executive, mastered this tactic in boardrooms of men who dominated with volume. Her deliberate pauses, Hewlett notes, made men literally lean in, waiting for her next sentence.

Finding Your Voice

Voice matters twice as much as content, Hewlett cites from the Quantified Impressions study. A lower, steady pitch—think James Earl Jones—signals maturity and confidence. Margaret Thatcher famously retrained her high-pitched delivery after being mocked for sounding “shrill” and emerged as Britain’s “Iron Lady.” The takeaway? You can modulate your tone without sacrificing authenticity.

Grammar, accents, and diction also influence authority. When Columbia’s Katherine Phillips was corrected on her pronunciation of “ask” (not “aks”), she learned that small adjustments can help others hear your ideas instead of your background. Mastery of language is not self-betrayal—it’s strategy for clarity.

Speaking Truth to Power

Assertiveness requires balance between confidence and respect. Hewlett illustrates this through Barbara Adachi at Deloitte, who demanded a seat on a management committee to validate her new leadership role. By calmly linking her request to the company’s success—not her ego—she won both authority and allies. This is Hewlett’s model of effective force: conviction wrapped in grace.

Reading the Room

Emotional intelligence underpins persuasive speaking. Hewlett recounts delivering a speech to an almost-empty hall at Tulane University—thirty-eight students scattered in a 400-seat auditorium. Instead of powering through her slides, she abandoned the podium, sat at the front, and turned the talk into a conversation. The result? Her lowest turnout became one of her most powerful sessions. Flexibility, she concludes, outshines formality when connection is the goal.

Humor and banter, when genuine, humanize authority. Sallie Krawcheck’s self-deprecating jokes about makeup time—a humorous critique of gender bias—opened audiences to serious insights. Humor, Hewlett shows, isn’t frivolous; it’s leadership empathy in disguise.

Polishing Presence

Hewlett’s practical guidance is detailed and actionable: tape yourself to catch filler words, prepare thoroughly so you can ditch props, and always maintain eye contact. Being succinct, she reminds readers, is a hallmark of authority. As American Express’s Kerrie Peraino puts it, “The more you speak, the more you dilute your core message.” In short, silence, brevity, and composure wield more influence than any PowerPoint deck.

Effective communication, Hewlett insists, is less about eloquence than presence: “Commanding a room begins with making everyone in it feel seen.”

While senior executives may claim appearance doesn’t matter, Hewlett proves otherwise: it’s often the first hurdle to credibility. Appearance, she clarifies, isn’t about beauty—it’s about polish, appropriateness, and control. A sharp image telegraphs discipline and confidence, while an unkempt look suggests distraction. First impressions form in a quarter of a second, and they tend to stick.

Polish and Grooming Over Beauty

Studies from Harvard show that women wearing moderate makeup were judged as more competent and trustworthy than those who wore none or too much. “Trying hard counts,” Hewlett notes—polish communicates respect for yourself and your audience. For men and women alike, neat hair, manicured nails, and tailored clothes suggest readiness. D’Army Bailey, a Memphis judge, attributed his sustained credibility partly to good grooming: “When I look in control, I feel in control.”

Hewlett delights in Cornel West’s sartorial discipline—his black three-piece “uniform” doubles as armor: a daily ritual that reminds him he’s, in his own words, “coffin-ready,” prepared to face moral battles with dignity.

Authenticity vs. Appropriateness

The golden rule, Hewlett reminds readers, is to look appropriate for your environment while remaining authentic to yourself. A red dress may work for a seasoned executive but undermine a newcomer’s gravitas. Kerrie Peraino summarized it neatly: “Cleavage is not empowerment.” Clothes should amplify your competence, not compete with it.

Joanna Coles’s evolution from understated journalist to powerfully stylized editor-in-chief of Cosmopolitan mirrors this balance. Once she saw how attire shaped authority, she used fashion deliberately—to express, not distract from, her power.

The Hidden Bias in Appearances

Hewlett confronts gender and body bias head-on. Surveys show overweight women face steeper judgment than men. She cites Governor Chris Christie’s weight-loss surgery as an example of reshaping perceptions of stamina and control. Appearance, unfairly, becomes shorthand for discipline. Similarly, tallness boosts leadership perceptions more for men, while women face contradictions—too glamorous or too frumpy, too young or too old. This “narrow band of acceptability,” later explored in women’s tightrope chapters, highlights how appearance intertwines with gender norms.

Owning Your Signature Look

Hewlett recommends cultivating a signature style that aligns your personality with your profession. Margaret Thatcher consciously built hers—her Aquascutum suits, pearls, and handbags created an image of feminine steel. Like Steve Jobs’s black turtleneck, a reproducible “look” can become an asset once you’ve earned credibility.

For everyday professionals, the goal is subtle: clothes should make others focus on your ideas, not your outfit. Seek professional advice, lean on trusted mentors, and always ask for feedback—people rarely volunteer critique on attire for fear of awkwardness.

“Your appearance,” Hewlett concludes, “is the medium through which your message travels. Don’t let static distort your signal.”

One of Hewlett’s most original insights is that professionals fail to develop executive presence not for lack of talent, but for lack of honest feedback. Constructive criticism on how you sound, dress, and project yourself is rare—especially for women and minorities. Fear of offending or triggering discrimination claims means that many never hear what’s truly holding them back.

Why Feedback Fails

Senior leaders hesitate to comment on sensitive topics like attire or speech. One male supervisor in Hewlett’s story avoided telling a young woman how her tight blouses distracted clients; embarrassed, he sent her to a general training program instead. The delay stalled her progress unnecessarily. Similarly, minorities often suffer from polite silence because managers fear being perceived as prejudiced. This well-meaning avoidance perpetuates inequality—the “marzipan layer” of near-senior women and minorities who are never told what they must change to advance.

Giving Feedback Like a Leader

Hewlett provides a blueprint for leaders: feedback should be timely, specific, and prescriptive. For example, one manager told her protégé, “When you get nervous, you rush and sound junior. Take a breath before answering.” That kind of clarity transforms behavior. Good leaders, Hewlett insists, frame critique as investment, not punishment—“I’m telling you this because I want you to succeed.” Feedback that corrects without demeaning builds loyalty, not resentment.

Learning to Receive Feedback

Hewlett dedicates surprising empathy to the receiver’s side. Developing a “thicker skin,” she writes, separates high potentials from stagnating stars. Barnard College’s president Debora Spar credited her growth to “being raised by wolves” in academia—learning to take critique without crumbling. Hewlett encourages readers to actively solicit evaluations, create feedback circles, and even invest in executive coaching. Sponsors—those senior allies who stake their reputation on you—can be invaluable truth-tellers if you prove receptive.

Difficult Conversations and Diversity

Hewlett highlights how race and gender magnify feedback friction. Leaders must learn to interpret culture-specific reactions—not every angry response is defiance, not every polite silence is agreement. Mentorship across identity lines thrives only when trust precedes truth. Creating psychological safety is a leadership skill, not a luxury.

Hewlett’s key lesson: “Silence is not kindness—it’s negligence. Honest feedback, given well and received well, is the oxygen of executive presence.”

Hewlett’s most provocative chapter examines how women leaders navigate the “Goldilocks zone” of being neither too soft nor too tough—never “just right.” This double bind, still persistent decades after feminist breakthroughs, confines women within a narrow band of acceptability. They must be assertive but likable, confident but not bossy, stylish but not sexy. Violate the unwritten rules, and credibility vanishes.

The Goldilocks Syndrome

From Hillary Clinton’s decades‑long struggle to appear both warm and authoritative to Michelle Obama’s recalibrations after being labeled “angry,” Hewlett reveals how gender bias operates in perception, not performance. Studies confirm that identical behaviors admired in men—decisiveness, forthrightness—are penalized in women as aggression. Social scientist Virginia Schein’s research still holds: we “think manager, think male.”

Appearance and Age Traps

Women face paradoxes: too much makeup looks vain; too little looks sloppy. Too young seems untested; too old seems irrelevant. Hewlett’s data even narrowed women’s “sweet spot of age acceptability” to ages 39–42. This absurdly thin window shows how deeply aesthetics shape access to authority. Michelle Bachelet of Chile, mocked as “too maternal” yet “too tough,” exemplified the global scope of this bias.

Communication Catch-22s

Voice and emotion are dangerous terrain. Margaret Thatcher fought accusations of being “shrill” by lowering her pitch—sound advice still echoed in corporate coaching. African‑American women like Intel’s Rosalind Hudnell must neutralize passion lest they trigger the “angry woman” stereotype. Hewlett’s takeaway: cultivate controlled warmth; make empathy intentional strength, not apology.

Strategies for Rewriting the Rules

To survive this tightrope, Hewlett offers tactical wisdom. When showing “teeth”—being firm—frame decisions in terms of what’s best for the company, not yourself. Use humor to soften dissent, as one executive did when jokingly inviting her boss to “take his turn” at criticism. Build a personal brand that grants you latitude—like Richard Branson’s reputation for bold originality, which immunizes him from backlash. Credentials, too, buy bandwidth: introducing yourself as “Dr. Laura Sherbin” immediately conveyed authority. And, crucially, show that you care—through causes, mentorship, or community impact—to balance strength with relational warmth.

These tools help women expand the narrow frame of what leaders “should” look like, one confident move at a time. As Hewlett affirms, equality doesn’t mean blending in—it means being accepted as powerful in your own voice.

Her challenge to readers: “Show teeth, but also show heart. That is how women widen their bandwidth for leadership.”

For minorities and LGBTQ professionals, Hewlett reveals another dimension of presence: the exhausting conflict between assimilation and authenticity. In a corporate world modeled on white male norms, being “professional” often means erasing parts of identity. Yet those very differences—cultural insight, empathy, worldliness—can be leadership gold if owned intentionally.

The Cost of Conformity

Through stories like Trevor Phillips, the British equality advocate who risked his career to produce the groundbreaking BBC series Windrush, Hewlett illustrates the power of reclaiming suppressed identities. Many professionals, she found, become “bleached‑out,” trimming away their accent, heritage, or sexuality to fit in. This conformity wins short‑term safety but long‑term disconnection. Minority employees who conceal who they are expend mental energy maintaining a façade, losing the spark that fuels creativity.

Forty‑one percent of professionals of color in Hewlett’s research felt compelled to sacrifice authenticity. Asian men were the most constrained, often coached to “tone down” cultural deference; Black women battled stereotypes of anger or unprofessionalism; and LGBT employees, fearing bias, stayed closeted. The emotional toll is enormous—one-third of closeted professionals planned to leave their jobs within three years.

From Code-Switching to Authentic Signaling

Authenticity doesn’t mean disregarding context—it means consciously aligning your values with your environment. Hewlett shares tactical wisdom from leaders who balance selfhood and strategy:

• Know your non‑negotiables: Don’t stay in cultures that violate your dignity. Weber Shandwick’s Judith Harrison left a firm flying a Confederate flag rather than internalize daily disrespect.
• Play the long game: Carolyn Buck Luce pivoted within EY to roles where her maverick vision could thrive without self‑betrayal—proof that adaptation needn’t mean surrender.
• Perceive slights as education: Instead of withdrawing, one executive turned an excluded moment into outreach, converting ignorance into opportunity.

Leverage Difference as Value

Hewlett reframes diversity as an innovation asset—a “diversity dividend.” Teams with members from underrepresented backgrounds outperform homogeneous ones because they understand underserved clients. At Standard Chartered, an Indian female executive launched women‑only branches in India that doubled profitability. At Morgan Stanley, an openly gay advisor built a multimillion practice serving LGBT couples. Owning difference becomes entrepreneurial capital.

Authenticity as Leadership Currency

Finally, Hewlett reminds readers that authenticity, once earned, magnifies trust. Leaders like Cornel West and Nelson Mandela show that presence rooted in identity transcends performance—it becomes moral authority. The challenge is timing: earn credibility within the system, then gradually widen it with your truth. “Stand with the crowd,” Hewlett concludes, “then stand apart.”

Executive presence, she argues, is not about passing—it’s about telegraphing authenticity so powerfully that difference itself becomes leadership.

Hewlett ends where she began—with the promise that executive presence is learnable. You don’t need innate charisma or Hollywood looks. Ordinary people can cultivate extraordinary presence through conscious effort, discipline, and feedback. But sustaining EP is harder—it must be curated daily, like fitness or reputation.

From Self-Awareness to Practice

Self‑diagnosis is the first step. Hewlett’s “EP Self‑Diagnostic” invites readers to assess how they act under pressure, communicate, and dress for influence. Once aware of gaps, practice deliberate improvement—through mentors, role models, or professional coaches. As in Hewlett’s own transformation from nervous academic to polished speaker, mastery comes from preparation and repetition.

Playing the Long Game of Integrity

Authenticity sets the outer boundary: never polish away your soul. Hewlett warns that overconformity erodes both joy and trust. Gravitas rests on moral confidence—knowing when to say no, when to walk away from toxic norms, and when to speak truth to power. Professionals who protect their integrity gain durability—the quiet assurance that sustains presence beyond fashion or politics.

Commitment and Renewal

Hewlett’s closing encouragement feels almost spiritual: EP is not a mask but a discipline of self‑alignment. It requires ruthless preparation, openness to critique, and deliberate self‑presentation aligned with genuine purpose. When these converge, your external image becomes an authentic amplifier of your inner conviction.

“Cracking the EP code,” Hewlett writes, “closes the gap between merit and success—between where you are now and where you could be if you let your full capability shine.”

Ultimately, executive presence is not imitation but integration: when who you are, what you stand for, and how you appear all tell the same compelling story.