Laurene Powell looks exactly like the most popular girl you worshipped when you were in a freshman in high school. The kind of girl that everyone whispered about when she passed by them in the hallway, whose personal life was public mythology.
She graduated from UPenn undergrad, and then got her MBA at Stanford Business School. She runs a number of foundations, and sits on a number of boards. I’ll just let you read her Wikipedia if you’re interested in more.
She also happens to be married to Steve Jobs.
I met Laurene, who is one of six children, and a few of her siblings at a party I attended last night. They adopted me when they saw that I didn’t know anyone, and spent the rest of the night laughing, telling stories, and playing Beatles songs on the piano. Even though the circumstances were almost ridiculously fancy, I felt like I was at home with my own family, messing around on the holidays and cracking jokes.
Meeting Laurene kind of made me want to move out to San Francisco. As much as I love New York, there’s something about a strong, powerful, intelligent woman that seems to intimidate men in the city, with their Napoleon complexes, and their gender confusion, and their deep salary insecurity. In a city that revolves around how much money you make, dating a woman who is your equal (or more often your superior) becomes a sign of weakness.
But last night, surrounded by Silicon Valley mavericks, it was the women who shone far brighter than any of the men. They were beautiful, and funny, and inordinately successful. They didn’t curl up into themselves, and give center stage to their husbands. They were well-spoken, and vivacious.
I actually don’t really want to move to San Francisco because everyone tells me it’s kind of a sleeper city, and I’m not ready to nest yet. But I do want to be like Laurene Powell.
Next step: Get crowned prom queen, obtain a sterling business school pedigree, and meet a man who primarily wears turtlenecks and jeans.