Everyone needs two shticks.
And by “shtick,” I don’t really mean something trivial or gimmicky—I mean a trait, a skill, or an interest that’s visible to people and that’s distinctly yours. Something people associate with you, not just in passing, but in a lasting way.
The first shtick gets you noticed. It’s usually a job, a core skill, something that makes you credible, competent, and useful. Alone, though, it’s one-dimensional.
The second shtick is the one that keeps you interesting. It’s the twist, the unexpected dimension that makes you versatile, memorable, harder to pin down.
Together, they balance you: you’re specialized enough to stand out but layered enough to surprise, adapt, and connect with different people. Maybe you don’t think in shticks, but you should. Personal branding is all but unavoidable now, so don’t be skiddish.
Anthony Bourdain was a chef and a storyteller who explored food through culture and travel. Simone Biles dominates gymnastics and advocates for mental health. Zendaya acts and inspires fashion discourse.
Most people start with a professional-ish shtick, then layer in a personality shtick. Influencers peg the personality shtick first—whether it’s humor, aesthetic, or controversy—then seek out serious skills, ideally building businesses to anchor their fame.
Every influencer has their own beauty line or energy drink, or they will soon. Are people’s second shticks increasingly a podcast or Substack? Yes.
Sometimes the shticks work together. Other times they clash in a way that makes someone even more compelling. Elon Musk literally builds rockets while being a pot stirrer on X. Marc Andreessen invests billions while propagating memes. One keeps them credible, the other on people’s minds. Smart, talented people who are also “good” at social discourse tend to have their two shticks nailed.
Why stop at two? Why not three shticks?
Three sounds tempting, but it gets murky. We hold up polymaths like Leonardo da Vinci as proof that a person can be many things. But even the greats are reduced to a couple of highlights. You might be able to remember all your shticks, but other people won’t. Two points make a line, but a scatterplot is just that.
There’s one exception: family. Call it the universal, silent third shtick.
But love can’t be your only shtick, and it doesn’t compete with the other two—it just complements them. It’s the bonus layer that can make you whole and humanize even the most robotic personas.
Mark Zuckerberg has Meta, martial arts, and increasingly, he’s a family man. Elon Musk now brings Lil X everywhere. Whether family is your quiet third shtick or deliberately on display, the trifecta works: smart, strong, and loving—every power player’s dream image. (Politicians have been attempting this playbook for ages.)
Contrast this with people whose identities are flattened to just one shtick.
Founders risk being swallowed by their companies, just as celebrities are consumed by their loudest source of fame. Taylor Swift is her music, though the world often imposes a second shtick—her relationship sagas. Kim Kardashian started as reality TV but layered in famous family and business ventures to broaden her persona (whatever you think of her, it has worked).
The other thing: your shticks have to be visible, else they might as well not exist. And if you don’t define them yourself, the world will do it for you. When attention is currency and visibility is constant, your shticks are your flags and your anchors.
You might say this all sounds calculated—like you’re engineering a persona. And maybe some people are. But the best shticks don’t feel engineered; they feel authentic. And the benefits aren’t rocket science. Having two shticks is just more fun, and it makes you more friends (and probably more money too).
In the end, the impulse to be dynamic rather than flat is timeless. The power of two shticks isn’t new. I’m just naming something we’ve always known intuitively:
Paradoxically, it’s not the obvious thing—the first shtick—that makes someone stand out. It’s the unexpected twist that deepens and distinguishes them; it’s the second shtick that takes you from one-dimensional to a full-bodied character. Two shticks are better than one.
What are your shticks? And if this essay resonates, please like it and share with a friend or community that might like it too!
As usual, big truths in this article.
Personal case: I'm bald AND short (plus, I'm also funny).
For many that came up professionally in sectors that require confidentiality (investment banking, enterprise fintech, etc), building the public persona you speak of is challenging. They know it *should* be an area focus for personal branding, but struggle to be transparent when much of their career was the opposite