One of the wisest women I know wears shiny red, knee-high boots, appreciates NASCAR and doesn’t blink if she’s described as “bodacious.”

It’s OK to stand out in a crowd, Ronda Rich says. In fact, it can be the key to success.

“A Southern woman knows how to be demure … in a loud way,” said Rich, chandelier earrings swaying and posture perfect, as she perched on the edge of a small sofa in the Callaway Center of West Georgia Technical College. Minutes before, she’d wowed a packed house as guest speaker at the annual Heart Truth luncheon.

It was the first time I had met Rich, although I feel I’ve known her for years. In 1999, a friend from Rich’s hometown of Gainesville gave me a copy of her just-released book, “What Southern Women Know (That Every Woman Should)” - now in its 27th printing. I’ve followed her career, from afar, ever since.

So what was supposed to be a post-speech interview felt more like sitting down to chat with an old friend. Nobody ever described me as bodacious - I wouldn’t know whether to die of embarrassment or roll on the floor laughing if they did - but Rich and I do share a common mindset.

We are Southern women who appreciate our heritage and recognize its powerful hold on us.

“Southern womanhood is defined by two four-letter words and what they represent,” Rich wrote in an essay for “Y’all,” the online magazine.

Those words? Mama and home.

All Southerners understand the truth of that.

And even though her first career as a sportswriter made Rich something of a trailblazer - first woman to cover NASCAR full time, first female reporter in the Chicago Cubs locker room, etc. - Rich also can write passionately about cast-iron skillets, back porches, country churches and the importance of always looking your best, even when you feel your worst.

She became an “expert” on Southern women the old-fashioned way - by being a quintessential Southern woman, an 11th-generation Georgian with a melodious drawl that both announces and embraces her roots. And she’s made a career of touting the virtues and explaining the “timeless secrets” that make Southern women so fascinating to, well, everyone else.

The mystique of the Southern woman, Rich believes, is all about femininity - and femininity is all about good manners.

Yes, Emily Post, I said good manners.

In Rich’s world, it’s OK to be a lady as well as a woman. A lady is someone who knows how to be tough while remaining soft. Someone who is always “real nice” and being real nice, Rich said, “makes others feel good about themselves and about you. … People mirror our treatment of them, good or bad.”

Southern women learn these things from the women, er, ladies in their lives - their mamas and grandmamas, primarily, but also the community of women, er, ladies who help raise them.

Southern women are inspired by tradition to embroider their toughness with irresistible charm, Rich explains. They can laugh in the face of relentless adversity. They are optimistic and unflappable. They are independent without making those around them feel useless.

Much can be learned from Southern women, Rich believes. Their strengths can be modeled and shared. She’s made it her mission in life to do so.

She does worry, however, that the current generation of young Southern women is losing some of its mystique. The world has changed and Southern women with it. Progress is important, but should not negate a culture that reveres kindness, generosity - and fresh lipstick.

“We’ve got to keep preaching the gospel. We can’t lay down and let it go away,” Rich said.

The “it” she’s talking about is charm that disarms, as practiced by belles who are “strong as oaks and sweet as honeysuckle.” She’s talking about saying please and remembering birthdays, about offering sincere appreciation and treating everyone as if they are important - because they are.

And, I found out, she practices what she preaches.

When she autographed my copy of “What Southern Women Know” - after exclaiming, “Oh, a first edition!” - I realized I was in the presence of the real deal, not just a steel magnolia but a titanium magnolia.

“To Andrea, a great example of Southern womanhood,” she wrote.

It was, of course, a bodacious exaggeration.

But isn’t that the best kind?