2012: the year of the charm offensive

According to Albert Camus it is "a way of getting the answer yes without having asked a clear question" - which may explain why we usually use the term wryly, or sarcastically these days. Think "charm the pants off", or "charm offensive".

"Charming!" we say, when some knucklehead pushes in front of us on the Tube, or when the front-of-house staff sit us by the loo and tell us they'll need the table back in 45 minutes.

A world of automated announcements, self-service checkouts and identikit restaurant chains can often seem a charmless one - but that only makes charm a more valuable commodity. It would appear that, on the social stock exchange, charm is soaring in 2012.

Look at the Oscars. The Artist and Hugo, the films with the most nominations, are nothing if not charming. The favourite for best actor is George Clooney for his turn in The Descendants, charm personified. We've The Great Gatsby, from more debonair age, to look forward to. Closer to home, Jessica Raine in the new BBC series Call the Midwife, set in the wonderfully civil 1950s, is enchanting the nation. Fashionwise, the spring/summer collections are full of light-hearted pastels and girlish frills, a move away from grown-up sexiness towards a giggling Jules et Jim vibe.

The latest issue of Monocle magazine is devoted to charm, which it calls "the new buzzword for 2012 and beyond", saying it's the small touches that make the difference. (Japan, incidentally, is supposedly the most charming country in the world, while the premises of London creative agency Pentagram are identified as the most charming office in the world.)

This is the high end of charm - and yet, charm is not class- or money-bound. We can equally be charmed by an NHS nurse or a shop assistant. In this week's New Yorker, there is a fascinating seven-page profile of an unglamorous bartender named Bob Bozic, simply because he spins a good yarn. He is charming, in other words.

In London, the venues we want to go to are increasingly not prestige places but those that make us feel welcome. That's the driving force behind the secret restaurant craze. At Duck Soup in Soho they have a record player and a bring-your-own vinyl policy. Like all of Russell Norman's restaurants, Mishkin's is intensely charming, all dinky plates and old-time hospitality. Charm is why cheery Gaby's Deli on St Martin's Lane has a campaign to save it - while Little Chef does not.

I ask one of the most charming people I know, Paddy Renouf, to define the elusive quality. He has made a business of his charm, as a sort of professional flâneur and host. "It's the magic dust that you sprinkle on things," he says. "It can seem superficial, but it's got to be sincere otherwise it isn't charm, it's smarm. There is nothing less charming than being charmed."

In other words, you cannot fake it. Nor can you measure or commodify charm - much as many corporations would like to ("have you guys ever eaten at Wagamama's before?"). Real charm does not come from grandiose gestures, either, or from overwhelming the recipient. It comes from generosity of spirit, from listening and responding openly and graciously. Paddy quotes the Swiss philosopher, Henri-Frédéric Amiel: "Charm is the quality in others that makes us more satisfied with ourselves."

And when applied properly, it increases the sum of happiness. A report from the Young Foundation last year found that civility is more important than crime statistics in measuring day-to-day wellbeing. Our interactions matter. And even better than that - charm is contagious.