Whats the deal with Dan Peres?

Role models are a funny thing, especially when your role model isn't someone you know personally, but rather someone you know of. Having a role model you've never met is like having a crush on that older guy in high school who didn't know you existed. You built him up in your mind, obsessed over the way he parted his hair, and perked up with recognition every time his name came up in conversation... That is, until three years later, once you finally grew breasts and learned how to wear eyeliner, he hit on you at the local bar and proceeded to throw up on your shoes.

Well, Dan Peres has never thrown up on my shoes.

But he has burst his role model bubble, at least for me. Now, Dan Peres is one of those extraordinarily talented writers who tricks you into thinking you know him after reading his editor's letters. I've actually been a fan of his style (think self-deprececating meets self-aware, a balance that's extremely hard to strike) for years, since my burgeoning days as a writer (who am I kidding? I still haven't moved past burgeoning). I was in high school, working as the editor-in-chief of our rather young feature magazine. There I was, barely 18, trying to find my own "voice", my own personal rolodex of writing nuances, when I found Dan Peres.

I knew nothing about the guy. I did, however, notice that he had conquered a delicate brand of funny- one much subtler than Gawker, but smarter than most (okay, all) women's magazines; one that made you laugh self-indulgently, but also touched on poignancy. He had a peculiar way of revealing just enough about himself, so that the reader would always laugh good-naturedly at his self-deprication, but never pity him.

Just like with that older guy in high school, I gave Dan Peres a personality. He also went to my high school, but I saw him as one those quirky guys- nice but forgettable. You know, the one who who probably had a crush on you but you never really noticed except when he said something witty in class.

I figured that Dan, as an editor, would follow in his high school precedent, and now, having finally come into his own, would be everyone's mentor- friendly, inspiring, witty even when passing the half-and-half. My first day at Details, I eyed his office constantly, waiting for some flicker of motion, a mere hint that someone was actually behind those frosted doors. I worked in fashion, which meant I had little interaction with the editorial staff, so I did what I could to get a glimpse of my role model. I sent my messanger forms to the far printer, which was conveniently located so that I had to walk past his office to get them. I ordered hangers and garment bags weeks before we needed them, so I could talk to Amanda, his executive assistant, whose office guarded his door. About a month into the job, I'd still never seen him, never even heard that he was in the office.

I once mentioned this fact to my boss.

"Oh, you won't," he replied, absentmindedly.

It turned out the real Dan was not the humble, witty guy I'd gotten to know so well through his columns. To me, he was still secretly insecure from years of rejection in high school. When I first took the job, I thought it would be a mere few weeks until we were eating late-night chinese food in the office, trading story ideas and debating the use semi-colons.

It actually turns out that Dan is more that guy from high school who you never really noticed unless he said something witty and who still probably had a crush on you, but had traded in humility for fame and couldn't be happier. And through this fame, he was now married to a beautiful actress and was planning to rub it all in your face at your high school reunion.

Now, we all know that guy. Some of you probably hope to be that guy. And that guy was not the Dan Peres of my past. So I guess, in reality, that there's two "D.P."s- that guy, and the Dan Peres who exists purely in the FOB before the table of contents. I guess the first one does deserve some credit though. He certainly fooled me.