The good flirt guide

Flirting isn't just about impressing the opposite sex, it's about getting on with people, says Peta Heskell, the founder of Britain's only flirting academy. Nick Duerden enrols

She looks like Farrah Fawcett's sister, and is here to teach us how to flirt. Hallelujah, you might say. She certainly would. "Flirting is an instinctive social skill, something we are born with," says Peta Heskell, with a flick of her hair and a smile that practically oozes pheromones. "A baby, for example, flirts to attract our attention, to make us do whatever it wants." It is, she says, a vastly useful and endlessly beneficial skill that, used correctly, can improve the quality of our life. It is simply a question of re-learning what has been buried during adolescence. "As sexually mature adults, we are taught not to demand attention. The instinct is repressed. What I do is help people rediscover that ability."

And I am here to learn from the master, or mistress. Not, unfortunately, in order to be transformed into a babe magnet (I've a long-term girlfriend, and Ms Heskell says it wouldn't be ethical, despite my protestations), but to make me, in general, more successful in life: making friends, influencing people – that sort of thing.

She smiles very wide, teeth everywhere, and makes me a coffee with three heaped teaspoons of Coffee Mate. Then she lights up the first of several cigarettes. "This is going to be fun," she says. I swallow my Nescafé and wish for some real milk.

Peta Heskell is founder of The Flirting Academy, the place single, lonely and occasionally desperate people turn to for help. Set up three years ago, she offers intimate, one-to-one sessions that take place either in her small suburban studio flat or on the telephone, alongside weekend-long seminars for the rather princely sum of £250. She claims a pretty impressive success rate: one couple who met on her course are about to tie the knot – and, in true Cilla fashion, she's already bought the hat. She has been on a Channel 4 documentary, The School for Seduction, appeared on early morning talk shows, and has sat upon Richard and Judy's settee. And, she says, she regularly gets e-mails from satisfied customers.

"Everyone is different," she says. "Some people just need one session to get them up and running. I call these my microwave clients: pop them in for a minute and they are done. But others take more time. They need chopping, slicing, rearranging and longer, you know, longer cooking times." She frowns, and sucks on her cigarette. "That's a slightly convoluted metaphor, admittedly, but you know what I mean."

She then does a quick assessment of me, accompanied by a tight smile. I appear, she says, rather analytical, maybe even cynical. I would almost definitely not be microwaveable. "If you were a proper client," she says, "I'd say you'd need quite a few sessions." She mock tells me off for asking too many questions. I plead journalism as a defence. She makes more coffee.

And so who is she, exactly, to make the world a brighter place? A disarmingly ebullient woman of 50, who could quite easily pass for 40, Heskell came to this calling after a fluctuating career in, variously, IT, PR and a multitude of temp jobs. She's long had an interest in psychology (although is at great pains to stress she's no therapist), studied Neuro Linguistic Programming under the hypnotist Paul McKenna, and has read a hundred self-help books, some of which clearly worked.

"It's dangerous to set yourself up as infallible," she warns. "The first thing I always tell my clients is that I'm not perfect, I still make mistakes and will probably continue to do so," She laughs out loud, spluttering like a machine-gun. "But one thing I am good at is interacting and communicating with people, making them feel good."

She's right about that. Although she could talk for England, she's also a good listener. When you talk, she smiles, she nods, she says: "That's a terrific question," and you are inclined to believe her. She is also an incorrigible flirt. She's all smiles and twinkly eyes; she smokes cigarettes the way Lauren Bacall might once have done; she paints her toenails a very bright red, and is forever crossing and uncrossing her legs, draping an arm casually over one knee, maintaining full eye contact under heavy lids.

Adopting a rather flirtatious manner myself, I tell her this.

"Ah yes, but you will have noticed that it's completely non-sexual," she says. "As we've been talking, I've mentioned my boyfriend several times, which should have subconsciously given you the message that I'm not available. What I'm doing with you is what I would encourage you to do with me, your friends, your colleagues, everyone. Flirting isn't just about getting off with the opposite sex. It's about meeting people, breaking down barriers and being friendly."

She tells me that when I next meet my editor, I should smile, I should take an interest in whatever they say, and complement them wherever possible. "The effect will be tremendous," she beams.

I tell her that most of my interaction with editors occurs via e-mail, technology having killed the personal touch. But she refuses to be disheartened. "Well, that's unfortunate, but not insurmountable. Even in e-mails you can be chatty, you can be approachable, witty and likeable. Try it, you'd be surprised by the results."

The reason she knows that all this works, she insists, is because this is the way she lives life herself. Much like a religious zealot, but without the good book, she approaches complete strangers in the street every day and engages them in conversation. They talk about the weather, the bus timetable.... She knows the names of every cashier at her local Marks & Spencer, and whenever she finds herself in television studios – Ms Heskell likes to name drop, to remind you that she's done plenty of TV.

I ask her whether people ever think she's mad. Her response is like an elongated exclamation mark. "No! Of course not! I'm being friendly to people, that's all. And friendliness opens so many doors."

And it is this, she says, that she ultimately promotes. "Be who you are, love yourself, give out a glow. Was it Freud who said, 'you leak the truth from every pore'? Well, what that means is, if you feel like shit, then you will leak shit. But if you love yourself, you will smell ever so much sweeter."

On the train back into London, I convince myself I smell like lavender. I smile at the lady in front of me. She scowls right back. I wink at the attractive blonde opposite, but she simply gazes right through me. And back at Waterloo, the rush of stern-faced people is simply too much for a novice like me to even contemplate winning over.

This, I fear, will take time.

Peta Heskell can be contacted on (0700 4 354 784), or e-mail: info@flirtcoach.com. 'The Little Book of Flirting' by Peta Heskell will be published by HarperCollins in September 2002