This is the name I am granting to a group of women that I sometimes have to deal with in my guise as a full time corporate. These are the modern version of the 80s power female. These are the women who stride around on high heels, carry brand name bags in the crooks of their elbows and have a handshake grip to rival Hercules.
The Alpha Female is most easily identified by her appearance; a clash between masculine tailoring, over-sexualised make-up, necklines, and hem lengths more suited for a nightclub than an office. Eyes are smoky, hair stands up in a highly sprayed quiff, nails are gelled to manicure perfection and lips are permanently pouting. When shoulder pads are in fashion, they wear them.
Needless to say, I am not an Alpha Female. I am quite happy being shoulder-pad free. My handshake does not crush bones. My nails naturally show the wear of hours spent writing. My makeup does not take an hour to apply and high heels are definitely out: picture a cross between Bambi and the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
But does that make me any less valid in the business world? Why does my appearance eclipse my qualifications, experience and actions? I long to live in a world that harkens back to old values and not on one where we haven’t learned to overcome the old cliché of judging books by their covers.