Remember one of those times when it all came together: your appearance, what you were wearing, and how you felt about yourself. Heads turned. Or they didn't, and it didn't matter. You were fine, and you knew it.
Tell us about it.
Valerie: I wasn't dolled up for a hot date. It was a family dinner at a restaurant. A summer spent piling brush in the woods left me strong and buff! I felt vitality oozing from my pores: long, lovely hair flowing from my head, I knew I was the most desirable person at the table, envied by others. In my physical power I was hot, sending my vibes all through the room!
Shannon: Oh that was probably when I was 17, I had just turned 17. I was on a swim team in Redlands California and our greatest rivals were the Riverside Swim Club. One of the highlights of the swim season was our big meet, Redlands vs. Riverside. And that summer’s meet promised to be an extra hot one because two of the best swimmers in the area, Joe Ott and Garth Huffaker, both college-bound high school seniors, were going to be fighting it out the whole weekend to accumulate the most individual points and be named Best Swimmer. Both were great swimmers, both were big and darn strong. And breaststroke was their specialty stroke, their rivalry went back for half a decade at least.
In the qualifying heats for the 100 yard breaststroke I placed third, behind Joe and Garth. I was pleased with third ranking, it was pretty much the best my coach and I thought I could end up. I was a good swimmer but not really big enough to go up against the big swimmers. (Google Michael Phelps – he’s 6’4”.) Joe was really muscular and barrel-chested, and Garth was an easy 6’2” and lanky strong. I was going to look a little shrimpy on the blocks next to them, but I thought I could hold on to third place. I was quick and lean, really lean. Mark Miles was fourth ranked. I can’t remember who was fifth and sixth.
I lollygagged around the whole morning, swam the 50 freestyle and placed third, found an unlocked door to the gym (the meet was at a high school in Redlands), and let myself in with a bunch of other kids to play on a trampoline we discovered. Our swim coach – Larry Munz, one of the most influential people in my life – our swim coach found us in there about an hour later and went ballistic on us for playing on a dangerous device, and for working ourselves into a sweat when we should have been resting up for our event. Heck, I was just working off the effects of a double cheeseburger and a large milkshake. Back then I had energy to burn.
When we were called up an hour later for the 100 breaststroke I took the block on the right lane closest to the center lane. Garth had qualified with the fastest time and had the center lane, and Joe had the lane opposite him, a little out of my sight, and I a little out of his. The event was the most widely anticipated event of the day because the Best Swimmer trophy was to fall to the winner. I still remember how quiet it got before the pistol crack and we were off the blocks. If Garth won he’d have the trophy; if Joe won he’d get it.
Breaststroke is fun, and with the exception of butterfly, more rhythmical than the other competitive strokes. And, best of all, at the turn you’re allowed one stroke underwater, so there’s a lot more silence in the stroke – and the race – than there is with, say, backstroke or freestyle. I remember hanging on Garth’s shoulder all the way through the first three lengths, and on the last turn I realized that we were shoulder to shoulder. Garth Huffaker! That guy was so talented his folks built a 25-yard lap pool for him in their backyard, (and later on in college he dominated the men’s butterfly and breaststroke events). I couldn’t believe I wasn’t a half body length behind him, and hardly able to imagine I was stroke to stroke against him.
But Garth wasn’t on to me. He kept looking to his right to see where Joe was. And Joe couldn’t see me. In the last five strokes I pulled hard past Garth, set my own personal best time (1:04.4 – I still remember), and Joe, who came in second, got Best Swimmer. Garth was crushed and left the pool angry and ashamed, but for that afternoon and the rest of that summer I was too hot to touch. Word I had beat Garth and Joe spread all through the Southern California AAU Federation; when I went to swim meets all the rest of that summer swimmers would come up to me from other clubs and say things like, “You’re the kid who beat Huffaker and Ott aren’t you?” Even Bill Stringfellow, a kid on the Riverside team who’d never talked to me and I’d always admired, came up and said, “I saw you swim that 100 breast in Redlands. You were good, that was a great race.” We became friends after that.
There’s people who can tell you what it’s like to lose nobly and coaches who want to let their players know that everyone’s a winner, and there’s a place for all that I know. Oh I know. But there’s nothing like the feeling of walking into a meet where there are two or three hundred swimmers getting ready to race and where you hardly know anyone, and someone comes up to you from nowhere and says, “You’re the kid who beat Huffaker and Ott, aren’t you?” And all you can say, quietly now, the memory flooding back into to you like it was just yesterday, is “Yeah, that was me.”
Dan B:
You know, as silly as the moment seems to me and the folks I've told the story to over the years, this did seem perfect to me...It was my first set of professional acting head shots. I wanted to look romantic and soft. My ballet teacher said I had the bone structure that was romantic and my acting teachers said my eyes could be read from the rear of the balcony. I got a perm (the pink rods). Made sure I had a makeup artist there to get rid of any imperfections my 20 year old face had. Wore my favorite shirts in the photo shoot: my blue and pink striped boatneck-cut top and my pastel plaid summer shirt. With each flash of the camera, I remember thinking that I looked stunning and that the end product would surely bring on a barrage of work.
It was 1980, Summer-- Denver, Colorado. My music du jour was Stray Cats and the Go-Gos. I drove a 79 gold Honda Civic named Bruce.
This was the shot that was going to get me into serious acting schools: for my league auditions that Spring in San Francisco.
I felt I knew it.
Steve: A few years ago I went to a Halloween party dressed in a short black slip and biker boots. And eyeliner. I had a beard at the time. I felt great. Bonus: hearing a guy behind me tell his girlfriend that if he had a back like mine, he'd wear a slip too.
Eve: My miserable high school years were spent at a small NY private school filled with cruel and narrow minded kids. I was chunky and artsy and shy. I suffered daily in the school uniform of pleated "black watch" plaid skirt, white buttoned shirt, red or gray knee socks. I felt exposed and reviled. Since then, so many of my "I feel hot" moments have been in direct response to those years.
In college I bloomed. Art school brought self discovery and confidence and style and friends. I lived in NYC and walked everywhere. I had long and, if I do say so myself, extraordinary legs. It was the 80's... damn, skirts were short. Then one day, I found it. The perfect outfit. My favorite soft black leather belted jacket over my new favorite skirt... impossibly short and outrageously tight (in the way that only a 22 year old with amazing legs can get away with) and... do I need to say it... black watch plaid. Shirt was optional with this outfit. Tall black suede pumps were a must. I still own that skirt, even though, 2 kids, 25 years, a jillion pounds and a few varicose veins later, I know I will never wear it again. It remains a treasured totem.
The other "hot" event was my 10th high school reunion. I still had those legs, I still had that style. I overcame a rush of nausea and walked into that gym and was immediately hit on by boys who had tormented me for years. I had recently gotten engaged. Funny, 28 seems to be the age when lots of women are engaged, but men are not... there were a lot of frustrated guys at that event wandering around looking like they'd missed the boat. I bummed a cigarette off my old English teacher and started listening to some of the conversations around me... started hearing thick Queens accents I hadn't noticed before... what was Sharon wearing- a white lace pantsuit??? was that a french manicure done - on the diagonal??? Why were they still discussing Springsteen? Impossibly snobbish, I know, but it was in that moment I realized that these people no longer had any power over me. None at all. And THAT is HOT.
Brad: It was the summer between Junior and Senior year. Junior year I was still pretty nebbish, short and a little chunky, and not at all popular.
I remember getting very sick at the beginning of summer after school had let out and at the same time I had a dramatic growth spurt. My weight finally matched my height and with cowboy boots on I was finally tall and skinny.
Just before school started up there was a big party planned out at a local farm and everyone was meeting at the Dairy Queen in Selah first. With a new haircut (shag) and new school clothes (boots, white jeans & paisley shirt) I drove my dad's new green Dodge Ram pick-up into the parking lot.
I realized that I hadn't seen any of my classmates all summer long, and they were all standing around as I pulled up. As I got out I noticed several classmates staring and then I actually heard two of the popular girls in my class gasp!
It was the best response I could ever have hoped for, I really did look my best and I felt fantastic. I never really became popular my senior year, but boy, that night I felt like the captain of the football team.
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