What to Wear, Vol. 20, Issue 43

Anytime the phrase “wear whatever you want” shows up, Etiquetteer wants to start Wagging an Admonitory Digit and saying “No you may not!” But Isobel Slone’s guest essay in The New York Times last week, “There Are No Fashion Rules Anymore,” makes one consider how un-uniform Fashion is now. “We’re entering into a brave new world,” she writes, “and it’s important to dress for it — which is to say, exactly how you want.” Her point overall is that the choices we make about what to wear no longer come exclusively from the top down, but more often than not from the bottom up. More importantly, because of our Unique (Post-) Pandemic Moment, more people are not going to be restricted by The Rules and will dress (or not) to suit themselves. “The concept that anyone ought to be wearing anything other than what they’re comfortable in represents the last gasp of an old system that is fading into irrelevance.” (It’s an absorbing article; read the whole thing.)

Ms. Slone fails to consider two points that Etiquetteer continues to think of as essential: a Sense of Occasion, and Elegance. While many of us have cocooned in sweatsuits or caftans for the last year, when we’re finally able to attend our first in-person weddings, graduations, or (sadly) funerals, yoga pants and a tunic top just aren’t going to cut it. This is decidedly a time for experimentation, but how we present ourselves also shows respect for our hosts, and for the reason we’ve been called together. How individual can a sweatsuit be, and is it really going to look Perfectly Proper at a wedding (or funeral) just because you Bedazzled the cuffs? You know the answer.

Then there is Elegance, the definitions of which encompass Neatness, Simplicity, “tasteful richness of ornamentation,” Refinement, and Propriety. These are all still desirable qualities in how we present ourselves to others. The late Marlene Dietrich once lamented that Elegance was “Rarely found today. Women are not brought up to know about it and therefore lack even the desire to acquire it.” Men benefit from Elegance just as much; its guiding principle and benefits are not exclusive to any gender.

Ms. Slone notes “As the fashion world slowly welcomes concepts like inclusivity and diversity into the fold, the acknowledgment that not all people look the same has led to the epiphany that not all people necessarily want to dress the same, either.” At this moment of Fashion Experimentation, as we determine how to present ourselves after a year-plus of Social Isolation, Etiquetteer wants us all to find a way to be unified, but not uniform, in Perfect Propriety.

Fan art from a dinner guest!

These things were much on Etiquetteer’s mind last night after a first Dress Dinner With Actual Company Inside Without Masks. If that’s not an Occasion Worth Dressing For, I don’t know what is! How lovely to be in a room with other people also dressed in their Sunday best. And how wonderful to flex one’s Hostly Skills and actually cook and serve for more than Just Oneself. In that respect, the dinner was a qualified success. The menu:

Gin-tonic Cocktail de crevettes Céleri farci

Poulet de Clément Haricots verts Timbales de riz brun

Côtes de Provence Rosé

Salade verte aux amandes

Gâteau reine de Saba Glace vanille

Champagne Piper Sonoma Brut

Four turns out to be the perfect number for me to entertain at dinner right now. Plating more than four Perfectly Proper plates at a time would compromise my hostliness, but three people amuse themselves more easily than two in the parlor over drinks and nibbles. (I am one of those cooks who need to be single-minded in the kitchen.) But overall, an occasion of Great Joy, the first of what I hope will be many Perfectly Proper gatherings with loved ones this year.

Heirlooms, a Reader's Response, Vol. 20, Issue 42

Etiquetteer was delighted to hear from a reader about the passage of heirlooms through her family. (This has been lightly edited to disguise identifying references.)

Dear Etiquetteer:

I enjoy your column immensely and can't believe your inbox would be empty — so here I am to fill it up. I must tell you that I think of you often — every time I rearrange the generations of family china, crystal and silver collection that I curate — ever since I read your column on the celery dish.

Last week my daughter and I . . . moved the corner cupboard! This meant I had to unload the entire thing, move it and reload. To handle every piece was a privilege. While enjoying this task, my daughter tentatively asked if she could have one of THE cups! The story of the cups is nearly 90 years old. Each summer, my grandmother would make the drive from Michigan, pass into Canada, buy one Aynsley Orchard teacup and saucer in cobalt blue, and then continue on past Niagara Falls to their summer home. In the family, these pieces of her collection are coveted.

As I am in the de-acquisition phase of my life, I was happy to let my daughter choose several pieces to adopt into her life. She arrived home with them, promptly set the table and Facetimed me (well past my bedtime) to show me her table setting. It was lovely and so fun to see them in her care. But she is a worrier — like her mother — and immediately began to search for a cabinet in which to display them. She was so afraid that they might be broken if left in the open.

There must be some sort of magic in those teacups to inspire driving long distances, crossing international borders and vast expanses of water. My lovely grandmother, whom I never met, is found in those lovely items she left for me. If not for those cups, I might not feel as though I know her as well as I do.

So, there is my silly little story. Not very important in light of the crisis gripping our world, but a backward glance every once in a while lets me know that life will continue. This wonderful lady, survived the flu pandemic [of 1918] and told my father tales of seeing dead bodies lying in the street in Washington D.C. After that, she went on to collect . . . tea cups. Perhaps we will be able to concern ourselves with these types of trivial fancies again in our futures.

Dear Reader:

You cannot know how much your letter warmed the cockles of Etiquetteer’s heart, so sadly is it tried by the current, collapsing state of Perfect Propriety. Etiquetteer is fortunate enough to have a houseful of heirlooms from Dear Grandmother. But unlike her, and like your daughter it seems, Etiquetteer actually uses them and enjoys using them. Etiquetteer enjoys nothing so much as a Perfectly Proper cup of tea in one of these special cups. Uncle Paxton analyzed it exactly in Clemence Dane’s frothy but ponderous novel The Flower Girls: “Tea drunk from Meissen or Davenport is totally different beverage from tea poured from stoneware or plastic.”

Etiquetteer hopes that we might all enjoy a Perfectly Proper cup together someday.

Life Lessons from Auntie Mame, Vol. 20, Issue 41

Almost 50 years ago Young Etiquetteer was introduced to “America’s favorite relative,” Auntie Mame, the creation of Patrick Dennis, based on his actual relative, Marion Tanner. Etiquetteer’s life might have been less colorful if Cousin Jeannette hadn’t sent a copy to Dear Mother as a 1955 wedding gift.

Auntie Mame has some wonderful life lessons for us all. But that whole “Live! Live! Live!” thing got started with the stage and film interpretation by the great Rosalind Russell*. Nothing against Roz, but Etiquetteer wants to concentrate on the novel itself, the Pure Milk of the Word.

Use your words, and know them. “A rich vocabulary is the true hallmark of every intellectual person,” Auntie Mame tells Patrick when she gives him his first vocabulary pad. Etiquetteer thinks it would be wonderful if we all stopped talking like some unctuous graduate school, move beyond words like trope, performative***, etc. and incorporate less cardboard-sounding words. The list Patrick compiled at a Bastille Day party gives some dazzling examples: “Hotsy-Totsy Club, gang war, Id, daiquiri, relativity, free love, Oedipus complex, mobile, stinko, narcissistic, Biarritz, psychoneurotic, Shonberg . . .” You can really sink your teeth into those!

That said,

Maybe don’t say the first thing that pops into your head. Mame had a sparkling bad habit of saying exactly what she thought, “an unfortunate candor that delighted many but offended just as many others.” And it cost her her job at Jesse Franklin Turner, too. Heaven knows That Mr. Dimmick Who Thinks He Knows So Much has fit his foot into his mouth often enough to know better! Putting yourself on a five-second delay could save you a lot of trouble.

But,

Courteously call out the bull@#$&. Mame’s brisk, businesslike takedown of the anti-Semitic Upsons could not have been more effective. How did she do it? She knew her facts, she wasn’t afraid to speak the truth — even as a guest having to criticize her hosts — and she didn’t lose her temper. And after her victory, she left the field immediately.

Meet the challenge! Auntie Mame didn’t exactly have a winning strategy against her husband Beau’s old flame Sally Cato MacDougall — she told Patrick after her terrifying hunt experience that “I got my thigh stuck so tight in that sidesaddle thing I thought I never would fall off” — but unprepared as she was, she still entered the arena. Nobody gets anywhere on the sidelines. Happily, she emerged victorious.

At the edge of the abyss of failure, Auntie Mame never stopped trying.

Fail faster. When the stock market crash swept away her money, Auntie Mame kept moving through careers as her trials exposed her errors. Rosalind Russell memorably gives us her disastrous turn as a telephone operator, but she was also a copywriter, interior decorator, gallery owner, vendeuse, fashion model, nightclub hostess, personal shopper, door-to-door saleswoman, and playwright before destroying her friend Vera’s play as an actress and then selling roller skates at Macy’s. Patrick noted that “she had a lot of confidence in herself,” and she never stopped trying.

Whoop it up with someone younger . . . but don’t try to cover it up, either. The movie versions all deprive of us Auntie Mame dating one of Patrick’s college friends, Alex, and going to the Junior Prom with him when she thinks Patrick won’t be there. Patrick’s confrontation of his aunt grips Etiquetteer every time, the best part of the entire book: “And since the year you graduated from college happens to coincide with the year Alex was born, you thought it would give you a common bond . . . “ Finally she admits “Maybe I was having a silly little flirtation with him. He amused me.” And that’s fine, but she might’ve saved a lot of trouble admitting it in the first place.

But, don’t make it more important than it is. Poor Auntie Mame really lost her heart to Brian O’Bannion, even though he was “a cheap phony with the morals of a goat and the worst case of hot pants in New York.” But then Love is blind, isn’t it, readers? Give your heart, sure, but not your vision.

Use your wardrobe to advantage, but dress for the occasion. Mame naturally gravitated to exotic couture — her initial idea of what to wear for her first meeting with Mr. Babcock was “that little gray kimono outfit with the scarlet embroidery and perhaps a blood-red camellia over each ear.” Vera wisely talked her out of that — “Mame dear, I wasn’t speaking of a Japanese costume for this, this ordeal” — steering her to something “sorrowful, but not strictly mourning, and very conservative. It gives a trustee confidence.” Her later failures, particularly her “disguise” as a Balkan spy in rural Massachusetts, only highlight her many successes: as a Macy’s salesgirl, and then a widow, in black; as mother of the groom “in shades of toast, a flattering but forthright hat, and a magnificent pearl necklace” to meet the Upsons; and even in a gold sari at the final cocktail party.

Last and most important, be the life of your own party. Auntie Mame begins and ends with that marvelous 1920s invention, the large cocktail party. And as hostess, Mame puts herself at the center of the action, distinctively dressed and enjoying herself as much as she wants everyone else to enjoy themselves. That, readers, is what makes Perfect Propriety — putting your guests at ease.

Etiquetteer hopes you will rush right out and read the novel for yourselves. Then perhaps you’ll share the life lessons you picked up there.

*Patrick Dennis admired her performance so that he dedicated subsequent Mame novels to her, and she appeared in his devastating parody celebrity memoir Little Me.

**At the end of the book she says “a large and flexible vocabulary is the hallmark of every truly cultivated person.”

***In the 1980s, database was the equivalent fashionable but boring word.

Planning a Memorial Gathering, Vol. 20, Issue 40

Dear Etiquetteer:

A dear friend who lost her husband last year is now attempting to plan a get together of friends and colleagues for a remembrance. She has two quandaries attempting to plan a gathering while attempting to maintain perfect propriety. No. 1: how to properly announce a gathering with such a somber purpose (by post, telephone, electronic means, etc.). No. 2: how to politely inquire about attendance intent in order to properly plan for seating, food, and beverage, without also creating an expectation or imposition of attendance.

Dear Friend:

The only thing that makes this memorial gathering different from any other party with a meal is its purpose, to remember the deceased. Of course this somber reason makes it feel different. While your friend’s second-guessing is completely normal, she should proceed as for any other party.

All the usual mechanisms for invitations and responses apply. Unless this is to be a very formal event, an email invitation makes sense. Make sure to send it bcc: to prevent an Endless Loop of Reply All Replies; those are especially aggravating to those who can’t attend. Like any other invitation, it should let the guests know what to expect: who, what, when, where, why. They will want to know about directions, parking, what to wear, and what to bring (or not bring). Guests may also have questions about COVID-19 masking and social distancing during this transitional period as restrictions are being lifted.

Including a response deadline doesn’t create an expectation that people have to attend, only that they have to respond. Etiquetteer wouldn’t go any further than including something like “We’re doing this so that those who want to remember [Insert Name of Deceased Here] as a group have an opportunity to come together.”

That said, it would be very awkward to turn away anyone who didn’t respond if they just showed up for a memorial event. And it would be equally awkward if the refreshments ran out. Plan on an extra table (as space allows) for walk-ins, and always order extra food and drink. Gin never goes bad. Etiquetteer has a vague recollection of a passage from the brilliant Brazilian novel Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands by Jorge Amado about what to serve at a wake or funeral. The chapter concluded that you could omit everything, even the coffee (!), but at bare minimum there had to be a sufficient quantity of rum available for the mourners.

While this event is taking place well after the death of the deceased, your friend could still experience a range of emotions. Etiquetteer hopes that she has other family members or friends with her to help in realizing this event. She herself should plan not to lift a finger to do anything but talk to people. They will all want at least five minutes with her, which won’t be possible if she’s supervising a buffet or passing drinks (or managing a caterer or hotel staff).

Joy and sadness commingle on these occasions, when many stories and happy memories of the deceased are released from hearts to be shared. Etiquetteer wishes your friend and her family comfort and solace as they prepare for this meaningful gathering.

Random Memorial Day Weekend Thoughts, Vol. 20, Issue 39

Well, here we are, Actual Memorial Day May 30*, a cold and rainy Not At All Summery Launch of the Summer Season featuring — in Massachusetts anyway — a lifting of all coronavirus pandemic restrictions. So Etiquetteer’s mind is all over the place on a few possibly relevant items:

SEERSUCKER: A couple days ago, before the weather completely deteriorated, Etiquetteer climbed into a seersucker suit to run errands downtown. Two gentlemen passing by chose to comment on it. The first said “Nice look!” which was gratifying. The other, who had perhaps already enjoyed too much Fireball, took issue, beginning with “Ahhhh, yah wearin’ that a day early!” “Actually, no, this is the weekend we can start!” Etiquetteer smilingly replied while increasing his stride. Remember, seersucker is fine whenever the weather is warm, Mother told you not to talk to strangers, and being drunk in public does not make you as cute as Dean Martin or Foster Brooks, especially before noon.

OBSERVING MEMORIAL DAY: Everyone forgets that the actual purpose of Memorial Day is not to mark the official start of the summer season but to honor those in military service who have died**. The Memorial Day Foundation has some ideas about how you should observe Memorial Day. Etiquetteer always takes out Dear Grandfather’s*** copy of The Complete Poems of Robert W. Service to read aloud his favorite poem, “The Cremation of Sam McGee.” “In Flanders Field” might be considered more appropriate. If you are hosting a Memorial Day gathering like a picnic or a barbecue, Etiquetteer certainly recommends a moment of silence, brief prayer, and/or a toast in memory of Those Who Have Served.

PATIENCE: For some it’s a bitter blow that, on a long-anticipated holiday weekend when coronavirus pandemic restrictions are at last being lifted, the weather is so very very bad! An important part of Perfect Propriety is accepting these setbacks gracefully, with patience. As the late Victor Frankenstein so famously said, “If science teaches us anything, it teaches us to accept our failures, as well as our successes, with quiet dignity and grace.” We have already come through so much, we cannot let the rain and clouds dampen our spirits! There’s plenty to do indoors, perhaps with a slightly expanded circle of people.

However you’re spending your Memorial Day weekend, Etiquetteer wishes you Safety, Joy, and of course, Perfect Propriety.

*Memorial Day is observed on the last Monday of May, but the Actual Day is May 30.

**The Veterans’ Administration history of Memorial Day, including its beginning as Decoration Day, is most helpful.

***A veteran of World War I.

Posy Pins and Boutonnieres, Vol. 20, Issue 38

Many years ago, Dear Mother mailed Etiquetteer a curious accessory of her late father’s, a gentleman always conscious of his clothes and appearance. A small glass vial with a bulb at one end and a flared top, its purpose was to keep a gentleman’s boutonniere fresh throughout the day — a vase for one’s lapel. Alas, Etiquetteer never got to use it; it was too fragile to survive postage.

Inspired by an Instagram follower (you are following Etiquetteer on Instagram, yes?), Etiquetteer was actually able to purchase one on the internet. But what really IS the story with these posy pins? How did they get started, and are they really Perfectly Proper?

The Usual Suspects have kept mum on this item. Emily Post doesn’t breathe a word. In her first edition, the only references to boutonnieres have to do with weddings (the groom provides them), hunting (ladies should only wear a white carnation, a small bunch of violets, or nothing in their lapels), or evening clothes (only a white flower, please). She certainly doesn’t mention this contraption in her comments on a gentleman’s jewelry.

Nor does Millicent Fenwick in her Vogue’s Book of Etiquette, but about men’s jewelry she comments “The first rule . . . is that nothing should be worn that is not functional, with the single exception of a ring.” Etiquetteer accepts this as permission to posy pin away; its purpose is to keep the boutonniere fresh.

Etiquetteer really likes this little glass trinket, but current versions are more likely to be made of silver. Indeed, it seems the actor who played Hercule Poirot in a television series wore one, which has made them a bit of a fetish in the Agatha Christie community. More information about those may be found at Gentleman’s Gazette.

If you’re going to attempt wearing this delightfully dandyish accessory, Etiquetteer recommends you:

• Make sure your buttonhole is open and unobstructed. It gets tricky inserting that pin into a buttonhole sewn shut. You might even want to put it in before you put on your jacket.

• Use an eye dropper to fill it, to keep from having to dry the exterior. Don’t overfill.

• Stem length makes all the difference.

Boutonnieres faded away from daily life after World War II, like so much else. The last reference Etiquetteer can think of is Waldo Lydecker in Laura. A white carnation makes a perfect finishing touch for a gentleman in evening clothes, which Mrs. Post reminds us should be only black and white, including the flower. With the dress codes of Creative Black Tie and Festive Black Tie, etc., gentlemen have more opportunity for color. But remember what Auntie Mame told Agnes Gooch: “Put down that lime green at once, Agnes. You’re supposed to dominate it!”

Whatever this white flower is couldn’t be more Perfectly Proper in a pinch.

Nowadays the boutonniere gets used for special holidays (e.g. Remembrance Day poppies), for pallbearers, and especially for weddings. Etiquetteer can go along with colorful buttonholes for weddings, and even for weddings with relaxed dress codes*, but really . . . a boutonniere is an ornament for a lapel. To balance a flower in a shirt pocket, pin it to a suspender, or — heaven knows how — adhere it to a bare chest, though . . . somehow that feels more musical comedy than Perfect Propriety.

In closing, a boutonniere is not an all-you-can-eat salad bar. Keep it simple, and keep it lightweight so that your lapel doesn’t buckle.

A dandelion should be good for something besides bees and wine, but it wouldn’t be suitable for a formal occasion.

*Etiquetteer can just imagine how much this shocks you.

Turtle Soup, Vol. 20, Issue 37

World Turtle Day is May 23, established by American Tortoise Rescue “to help people celebrate and protect turtles and tortoises and their disappearing habitats around the world.” One important reason for this was the overhunting of turtles in the 19th and early 20th centuries for turtle soup, one of the culinary status symbols of the age.

Turtle, or terrapin, soup was one of two required delicacies on the Victorian menu to establish a Perfectly Proper formal dinner as an Occasion*. It began appearing on American dinner tables almost as soon as the colonists landed. It doesn’t sound very easy to manage — Victorian cooks said a 120-pound turtle was ideal — but then by the 1920s Campbell’s had created a canned version. As it went from popularity to craze to costly luxury, cooks had to come up with an economical substitute for everyone Trying to Keep Up. That’s how mock turtle soup came to be, using a calf’s head or “brains or other organ meats”** for turtle. It eventually became popular in its own right.

With the robust exuberance of the period, silversmiths created special silver just for this dish. You’ll find some surprising images of terrapin forks here and here at the Silver Pieces — The Strange and Peculiar blog. As that blogger observes, the shape is very like the 20th-century plastic spork, possibly quite useful for a meaty soup or stew. Etiquetteer can’t help thinking that drips would be a problem, but then the Victorians even ate ice cream with forks. Perhaps the vogue for forks collapsed along with that for turtle soup . . .

Because the vogue for turtle soup did sputter to an end at the midcentury. A 1947 article in Life magazine helped to explain why turtle soup became a regional instead of required delicacy. The ingredients, including sea turtles and bottles of well-aged sherry, "are not all easy to obtain." (It’s interesting to note that sherry is not only an ingredient in turtle soup, but the wine to serve with the soup course.) Plus, sea turtles were so darned ornery about being captured; Etiquetteer can’t imagine why . . . One region where turtle soup still reigns supreme is New Orleans, and Etiquetteer was able to enjoy a plate of turtle soup at Brennan’s in 2016. A savory and rich brown soup, it was easy to understand why it was so popular in Days of Yore.

Aside from rarity, the sort of formal dinner at which turtle soup was indispensable was also falling out of vogue. The informality of the postwar years featured cocktail parties, buffets, and picnics more than “stuffy” dinner parties. That said, Etiquetteer longs for a return to a Perfectly Proper dinner party — but not with anything on the menu that’s approaching extinction, thank you very much.

*The other was canvasback duck or Long Island duckling. You simply had to have one or the other.

**A dear lady Etiquetteer has been privileged to know lo these many years once asked “You know what causes gout, don’t you? Organ meats!”

Online Gratitude, Vol. 20, Issue 36

Dear Etiquetteer:

One of the things I find terribly annoying is the tendency of individuals and organizations to not respond to comments and questions on their social media posts, specifically Facebook and Instagram.

It often seems to be true of accounts that receive a lot of complimentary feedback. It’s as if they are there to just soak up praise without actually interacting with people who take the time to follow and support them. How rude!

Even when there are too many comments to respond to, one might post a blanket, “Thank you for all of the nice comments, I’m sorry I can’t respond to them all.” Just a thought!

Dear Ignored:

No matter how much we love celebrities, celebrities cannot love us back. Instagram especially has made us immeasurably closer to Global Figures. But they (or their social media managers) might be wary of nurturing too great a sense of False Intimacy with individual responses. Etiquetteer agrees with you, though, that a blanket “Thank you everyone for all the wonderful feedback!” at minimum is appropriate. Never forget the Little People! They put you on that pedestal, and they can topple you off it.

Further down the scale, the rest of us* can always do better. Not only does responding to individual comments and questions make one appear more engaged, the process also makes one more familiar with one’s audience. Being able to distinguish true fans, lucrative patrons, and potential stalkers is an art that can only be cultivated by direct engagement. And that knowledge, in turn, can reveal who to encourage, or not.

Because the reverse side of the coin is Ceaseless Fan Demands Veering on Creepy Obsession. Etiquetteer was stunned several years ago when cartoonist Lynn Johnston completely ended the Patterson family’s story in her beloved For Better or For Worse comic strip**. As I recall, she commented at the time that no matter how much additional detail she added about characters or story lines, it was never enough for her fans. (That said, she was always good about sharing gratitude.) And then there’s Kathy Bates in Misery . . .

But for those of us grounded in Sanity who only want to feel noticed and appreciated, Etiquetteer offers you compassion, and the promise to do better. The neglect you perceive says more about them than you.

*By which Etiquetteer means all stripes of creatives, including artists, performers, musicians, crafters, “sewists,” historical reenactors, gurus, and um, writers😬.

**In Etiquetteer’s family there was universal shared interest in two important series: the original Perry Mason and For Better or For Worse.

Epitaphs, Vol. 20, Issue 35

During the pandemic the local cemetery has become Etiquetteer’s refuge from the world; nothing is bothering the permanent residents, so why should anything bother the living? It has led Etiquetteer to consider what makes a Perfectly Proper epitaph. An epitaph is officially defined as anything inscribed on a grave, but let’s look beyond the basics of names, dates, and locations.

A Perfectly Proper epitaph should be brief, concise, and capture the essence of the deceased’s legacy. Obviously “Rest in Peace” is the classic. “Rest in Power” has become fashionable in the last few years. Then there’s family position: Father, Mother, Husband, Wife, Brother, Sister, etc. Often kind adjectives are thrown in, like Loving, Kind, Devoted, Beloved, Dutiful, as the deceased merited and the family could afford. Etiquetteer loved finding the grave of a husband and wife on which the man merited no special words, but the wife’s name was preceded by “His wife, the Incomparable Lady.” What could be more Perfectly Proper? And what could be more poignant than “My Dear Mother Left Me With Precious Memories?”

The story of Consuelo Vanderbilt is instructive. She was famous for many reasons: as a beauty, as the daughter of her dominant mother Alva, as the wife and ex-wife of the Duke of Marlborough, as a loving and charitable Duchess, and as the wife of her second husband Jacques Balsan. Of all possible epitaphs, she chose not to be identified as her mother’s daughter or the wife of a husband, but as “Mother of the Tenth Duke of Marlborough,” and to be buried at a country church with her second son not far from Blenheim, the family seat.*

Job titles are often added: Inventor, Businessman, Artist, Poet, etc. And sometimes career goals. One read “His Lifework the Elevation of Mankind.” Lysander Spooner’s (1808-1887) epitaph includes “Champion of Liberty” along with all his occupations: “Lawyer, Abolitionist, Entrepreneur, Legal Theorist, & Scholar.” A Civil War soldier who fought for the Union is buried with the epitaph “Loyal and True to Country and his God.” “A Friend of Organized Labor” stands out on another headstone, along with a carving of two clasped hands. It also includes the name of the labor union that paid for the headstone, a reminder that a tombstone’s legacy isn’t always only that of the deceased.

The Bible and other religious texts yield many possible epitaphs. Etiquetteer was struck last year with one headstone that read “His servants shall serve him and they shall see his face.” This turns out to be Revelation 22:4, and could take on sinister connotations depending on who the deceased was serving in life. Others Etiquetteer has noticed:

• “They rest from their labors.” Revelation 14:13

• “I shall be satisfied.” Psalms 17:15

• “He giveth his beloved sleep.” Psalms 127:2

• “Until the day break and the shadows flee away.” Song of Solomon 2:17

• “An excellent spirit was in him.” Daniel 6:3**

Popular choices from the Bible may be found here.

A favorite epitaph from William Shakespeare is the quotation from Antony and Cleopatra selected for the Marchesa Luisa Casati by her granddaughter, Lady Moorea Black: “Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety.” Considering the Marchesa’s monumentally bizarre clothes, tastes, and parties, nothing could have been more Perfectly Proper.

Popular culture also yields meaningful last words. Etiquetteer loves the married couple buried together under the epitaph “For Me and My Gal,” referring to the song made popular by Gene Kelly and Judy Garland. But Etiquetteer has mixed feelings about Dorothy Parker’s famous choice, “Excuse My Dust.”***

These are all worth thinking about as you consider your own epitaph. You may wish to leave that to your descendants . . . but they may think you deserve less than you think you do. There are many ways to intepret “I Did It My Way” . . . Etiquetteer wishes you profitable speculation as you consider your own last words.

*Read all about it in Consuelo and Alva Vanderbilt, by Amanda Mackenzie Stuart. For this reason Etiquetteer could not possibly be buried with the family; the only possible epitaph then would be “The Prodigal Son Returneth.”

**Irreverently, Etiquetteer always considers this at 5:00 PM, the traditional start of the cocktail hour.

***See also her delightful set of poems “Tombstones in the Starlight.”

Exit, Pursued by a Bore, Vol. 20, Issue 34

Faith! He must make his stories shorter//Or change his comrades once a quarter. — Jonathan Swift

Recently Etiquetteer saw a complaint on social media from someone beset with a "bugaboo creeper." Etiquetteer was unfamilar; was it a sort of plant? Apparently it is, a sort of Social Kudzu that overpowers everything*. In short, it's a Bore at a party who will pursue you from room to room, talking ceaselessly, oblivious to attempts to shake him or her off. Since many of us expect to return to an in-person social life over the summer (depending on individual levels of comfort before, during, or after vaccination), it might be helpful to review how to detach a Bore, and how to avoid being a Bore.

Bores are people, too, and just as much entitled to compassion as the rest of us. Their compulsion to talk, more often than not, is caused by social anxiety, of wanting to be at the party without really knowing how to be at the party. There's this idea that if you're at a cocktail party or other large gathering you simply must be seen in animated conversation in a throng. Detached observers are sadly underrated. 

Wanting to be in the thick of things, perhaps nervous about not knowing anyone besides the hosts, Bores bore in and bore on. This can feel very taxing when they persist in not picking up on social cues. 

Detaching a Bore takes finesse. One doesn't want to be rude**, but one also wants to experience more of the party. The classic maneuver is to create an excuse to go elsewhere. "Oh dear, won't you excuse me? I need to [Insert Your Choice Here]: a) see Nick and Nora before they go, b) get some hors d'oeuvres, c) make the rounds, d) avoid an old beau." Some phrases that should be unmistakable farewells include "Nice to see you," "Enjoy the rest of the party!" "I'm so glad we got to talk," or "Thank you and good night." Probably the most extreme would be "I'm so sorry, my brain is full."

Etiquetteer has sometimes used the line "Oh, there's too much air in my glass, excuse me"*** before heading to the bar for refills. This is a kinder version of what Quintus does to poor Catherine Sloper in The Heiress, ditching her in the summer house with a promise to return with claret cup, but always intending to desert her. Not really Perfectly Proper. In fact, it's kind of mean. If you say you’re fetching a drink for someone, fetch it.

Retreating to the bathroom is risky because there's only one exit, and it's entirely possible your Bore could be waiting patiently for you to emerge. 

So, if you’re realizing that someone’s ready to leave you, how should you react? First, it really must be understood, pursuit is not Perfectly Proper. If someone has said that they need to move along (see above), it's a sign that your conversation has ended, even if your story has not. You may do one of two things: remain where you are, or invent your own party errand in the opposite direction. Following the other person, or deciding to move off in the same direction, indicates unawareness. Etiquetteer really favors making a casual circuit of the gathering; that’s how new conversations start.

You should acknowledge the end of your chat with a brief reply, something like "Enjoy!" or "Have fun" or "So glad we could talk." "I'll tell you the rest some other time" might sound like a threat; Etiquetteer knows that’s not what you mean. Don't imply that you've been a Bore.

Etiquette is situational awareness. Be aware of whether or not you're losing your audience. If you think you are, throw them the conversational ball by asking a question. And then who knows, maybe then you'll be the one finding too much air in your glass . . . 

Etiquetteer wishes you joy and Perfect Propriety at as many summer parties are you feel safe attending.

*The only proven antidote to kudzu, to Etiquetteer's knowledge, is goats. And that's worth meditating on . . . 

**One shouldn't want to be rude . . .

***From Alfred Hitchcock's Rope.

Vaccine Issues and Mother's Day Gifts, Vol. 20, Issue 33

Dear Etiquetteer:

I just found out that a very close friend is not planning on getting the vaccine. I haven't see her since before lockdown last year. I respect her right to decline the immunization, even though I don't understand it, but I'm not sure what to say now that she's suggested we get together for a visit.

Dear Vaccinated:

These situations are going to become more and more common as more people a) get the vaccine, and b) don’t get the vaccine. The true answer isn’t going to come from Etiquetteer; it’s going to come from your heart. How comfortable are you going to be in physical proximity to someone who hasn’t been vaccinated? Once you decide that, things become clearer.

If you decide that you aren’t comfortable, suggest an online meetup using Mutually Agreeable Technology (e.g. Zoom, Facetime, etc.). As you respect your friend’s decision not to get the vaccine, so should she respect your decision to safeguard your health. Explain kindly that you just aren’t ready for in-person socializing.

But let’s say you’d feel OK getting together with some precautions — for instance if you were to meet outdoors, or maintaining social distance of six feet, or if both of you wore masks. Be kind but candid about what would make your get-together truly relaxing and valuable.

Dear Etiquetteer:

What is your advice for one's spouse who is a mother? Does one give a gift to one's spouse on Mother's Day? What sort of gift is proper?

Dear Thoughtful:

It’s funny, but the first thing Etiquetteer thought of was a footnote from How to Set Up for a Mah-Jongg Game and Other Lost Arts, by Joan Gelman and Carol E. Rinzler: “A lady never accepts an expensive gift from a gentleman who isn’t her husband. A lady never accepts a gift from her husband that isn’t expensive.”

Even in dual-income households, mothers continue to bear well more than half of the burdens of childcare and housekeeping. And for everyone, the pandemic has made this even more stressful. Statistics show that most families give their mothers cards, flowers, or a meal out. Also jewelry (59%). But rather than rubies* or a mother’s birthstone ring, Etiquetteer thinks the gift of Time might be most welcome. “Honey, I’ll be completely responsible for the kids today so that you can just have time to yourself” could be the Sweetest Words She’ll Want to Hear. They’ll sound sweeter with an accompanying gift certificate for some sort of self-care, anything from a spa treatment to lunch out with her closest friends.

If you decide on flowers — always Perfectly Proper — choose her favorite. But it turns out the traditional Mother’s Day flower is the white carnation. These were the favorite of Ann Reeves Jarvis, the mother of Anna Jarvis, who started the modern tradition of Mother’s Day over 100 years ago — and then campaigned against it when it became too commercial**. Etiquetteer remembers as a schoolboy presenting Dear Mother with a handmade red carnation; in Mother’s Day symbolism, red carnations are given to mothers whose own mothers are living, and white to those whose mothers have already died. But in later life, when it was discovered that Dear Mother had once been fond of cattlyea orchids, an orchid corsage would often be delivered a day early.

Etiquetteer wishes you and your family a beautiful and loving Mother’s Day.

*Proverbs 31:10: “Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.”

**Today, May 5, is another holiday that’s been commercialized beyond recognition, Cinco de Mayo. But then, what holiday hasn’t been commercialized, and what does that say about our culture?

Etiquetteer's Address to the Class of 2021, Vol. 20, Issue 32

Greetings, members of the graduating Class of 2021! Etiquetteer congratulates on your achievements on reaching this important milestone. The outside world needs your enthusiasm, your innovation, and your youthful energy to get us out of this awful mess.

It’s a rude, rude world you’re going into. But you have a secret weapon in your arsenal, a renewing quiver of golden arrows. It’s etiquette. It’s manners. Whether you know it or not, you need them — and most of you are already using at least a few of them.

Etiquette has a bad reputation, you know. Most people associate it with afternoon tea and ladies in hats looking down their noses to make people feel bad about themselves. That is an outdated view . . . though it has its attractions. Etiquetteer loves afternoon tea and ladies hats. It would be better if we could think of etiquette less as a weapon and more as a guide.

Because etiquette is not Downton Abbey. It is not about behaving grandly, which often looks fake unless you were actually born grand*. Etiquette is not about snappy comebacks; sorry, Dowager Countess! It is about how you make other people feel around you. Putdowns are so satisfying within our evil little hearts, but they are not the way to solve problems, and they are not the way to partnerships and alliances. Wicked and evil people do need to be put in their places, but it’s how you do it. Don’t vaporize, neutralize! Whoever described diplomacy as “the ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip” absolutely got it right.**

Besides their snobbish reputation, good manners really took a hit during this endless year of the pandemic. Aside from the emotional strains of not being able to gather with loved ones — especially for milestone events like this graduation! — we have all been challenged with how to behave appropriately in new situations. Everyone has loved the more relaxed dress code of working or learning from home, but that’s led to some notable lapses in judgment like Poor Jennifer and that Canadian MP who accidentally stripped down in front of a live Zoom meeting because he thought the camera was off. Even though other people may not physically be in the same room with us, we need to act as though they were.

Etiquette is about keeping your cool under fire. Poise. Etiquetteer’s Dear Mother used to say “When you lose your temper, you lose your point.” And that’s another way of saying “Stay poised.” All the definitions of poise have to do with balance and equilibrium, but Etiquetteer’s favorite is “easy self-possessed assurance of manner: gracious tact in coping or handling [of situations].” Poise comes with self-confidence and experience. You’re already well on your way to gathering both.

So allow Etiquetteer to send you out into the world with these four pieces of advice:

• Use the thoughtful, pointed question instead of the snappy comeback.

• Always assume the camera is on, and keep all your clothes on in front of it.

• Be poised.

• Don’t look down your nose at someone over your teacup, but if you do, keep your pinky in.

Congratulations, Class of 2021! Best wishes for Perfectly Proper future, for you and all of us!

*Reminder: you weren’t.

**Apparently it was not Winston Churchill who said this.

Gift Cards vs. Neighborliness, Vol. 20, Issue 31

Dear Etiquetteer:

It used to be that one would do small things for the neighbors just to be civil; take in the mail and paper while they are away for a couple of days, check that the cat has water and kibble over the weekend, bring a mask and some small talk to the elderly lady down the road. One was just happy to have been helpful in a small way.

I have noticed in recent years that the recipients of such trivial gestures have found it needful to reimburse one in the form of gift cards and such. I find such gestures embarrassing. Am I expected to pay in kind should I ask that they scoop the Sunday paper off the driveway some weekend?

Dear Neighborly:

Alas, gift cards are the new baked goods. And you’re right, they seem more transactional than neighborly. Convenience has trumped Thoughtfulness. Etiquetteer doesn’t really like it either. In this case, you may feel like the staff being tipped instead of a neighbor being thanked.

Your aversion to the gift card, however, obscures the proper place of a Tangible Gesture of Gratitude for Neighborly Assistance. Before gift cards, it wasn’t unusual for baked goods to be offered, or souvenirs of travel destinations from vacationers. Etiquetteer’s Dear Mother (may she rest in peace) benefited from the kindness of a neighbor every day. On his morning walk he would move her freshly delivered newspaper from wherever the newsboy tossed it to her front stoop, saving her steps. Every once in awhile she would pop over with something fresh from the oven for him and his wife, but not every day, or even every month. Etiquetteer, after a week caring for a neighbor’s tomato plants, was surprised and delighted to receive a small basket of tomatoes from those same plants.

If you are not comfortable expressing gratitude with a gift card, don’t. A Lovely Note is always Most Perfectly Proper anyway. But consider a Tangible Gesture, too, like banana bread or cookies. Etiquetteer, for instance, always finds baked goods useful, even if his waistline does not . . .

And speaking of Neighborliness, this coming Saturday, May 1, is not just Kentucky Derby, but also World Naked Gardening Day*. Back in Volume 15 Etiquetteer shared a few dos and don’ts for this novel, perhaps controversial Day of Horticulture. You may wish to review if you feel anxious about seeing more of your neighbors than you prefer.

*Always observed on the first Saturday of May.

Silver Placement, Vol. 20, Issue 30

Dear Etiquetteer:

If one is serving the salad after the main course, are the positions of the salad fork and place fork switched? Another, somewhat related, question: what type of salad would require a salad knife, other than perhaps a wedge salad?

Dear Puzzled Placesetter:

We are now so used to having the salad first that it feels odd not to have the salad fork on the outside. But Craig Claiborne clears the confusion nicely in his Elements of Etiquette: A Guide to Table Manners in an Imperfect World: “Place forks on the left of the plate in the order of usage. The first one farthest from the plate is the one to be used first.” So it might not feel Perfectly Proper to put the salad fork on the inside if the salad is served in its original place on the menu, after the main course, but it actually is.

As to the necessity of a salad knife, you just don’t know when it’s going to come in handy. For a too-large forkful of greens, a knife can help ease off the excess. Don’t most niçoise salads have full-length green beans in them? And then there’s the Cherry Tomato Bomb. So often when an unsliced cherry tomato is pierced with a fork, it squirts its guts all over your good clothes. For when the cook has neglected to slice, always cut your own tomato to prevent an explosion. So let’s keep the salad knife. As Etiquetteer’s Dear Mother used to say, “Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.”

Dear Etiquetteer:

Only recently I found out that a regular soup spoon is only for clear soup, and that heartier soups with a lot of stuff in them get a different kind of soup spoon with a round bowl. Is this really true, and if it is, what on earth are you supposed to do if you’re served one kind of soup with the other kind of soup spoon?

Dear Soupy:

Whoever gave you that information wasn’t exactly joshing. Back in the day formal dinners would include a choice of soups, clear or thick (often referred to as a cream soup, but not always including cream). Gradually during the 19th century cream soups were no longer offered — and that’s just as well. What a bother, having two different offerings!*

A soup spoon has a large oval bowl, and a cream soup spoon’s bowl is round. There’s even another, larger round soup spoon sometimes called a chowder spoon, but it seems that these are quite rare and we don’t have to bother about them now. And here’s some interesting Spoon Trivia. According to Sterling Silver Flatware for Dining Elegance, cream soup spoons are “a standard item in a six piece place setting in most of the United State, though not in the South, where the iced tea spoon is the fifth member in a place setting.” This would explain why Dear Grandmother’s silver has iced tea spoons and no soup spoons at all . . . but not why she had an armory’s worth of butter knives**.

If some evening you happen to be served a thick soup with a regular soup spoon and not a cream soup spoon, the most Perfectly Proper thing to do is Shut Up and Eat. As Marty Feldman so memorably said in Young Frankenstein, “Say nothing, act casual.”

*Nowadays you just know someone would ask to try both, wreaking havoc with the service . . . this is a dinner party, not an ice cream shop . . .

**Etiquetteer is really at a loss to explain why so many people now refer to “butter spreaders” instead of a Perfectly Proper butter knife. Autre temps, autre moeurs . . .

Reader Response, Vol. 20, Issue 29

After last week’s column on masking in mostly empty office spaces, Etiquetteer learned from readers that there’s a lot of impatience out there: impatience with the unmasked, and impatience with those who insist on masking:

Dear Etiquetteer:

So, just to be clear, shouting “PUT ON YOUR [expletive deleted] MASK YOU SELFISH [expletive deleted]!” would not be perfectly proper, even after a year of this nonsense? My patience level is at an absolute minimum with this.

Dear Frustrated in Chicago:

Now you know very well that shouting and profanity are not going to improve this situation. Etiquetteer has written before about whether or not profanity is necessary. Sometimes it is; more often it obscures the message. You may want to think about traveling with a pack of extra masks, so you can offer them to the Maskless. Then the Maskless might consider that they should consider others.

Dear Etiquetteer:

Apparently Karen does not know the meaning of the word OR. It is wear a mask OR keep six feet apart.

Dear Impatient:

Your message prompted Etiquetteer to refer back to the CDC guidelines about How to Protect Yourself & Others to get the facts. They are presented as a list, without conjunctions. In the absence of either AND or OR, Etiquetteer believes AND is more consistent with the advice cited by Dr. Al-Sayed: “Wash up, mask up, back up, vax up.”

Your response also made Etiquetteer think of something Dear Mother (may she rest in peace) used to say: “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” The long-term effects of COVID-19 are still being researched; we already know it can “damage the heart, lungs, and brain, which increases the risk of long-term health problems.” It’s understandable why people are anxious about contracting the virus. Your own apparent frustrations with these new complications to daily life are also understandable. You are not alone. Dear Mother also used to say “This is an opportunity to practice patience.” Etiquetteer wants to appeal to you in the kindest way possible to look with compassion on those who walk more anxiously in the shadow of COVID-19 than you.

Dear Etiquetteer:

I do wear a mask when in the corridors at the office, though I only see another human being in the building about once a week or less. When I do see another person, and generally they are not wearing a mask, we are so happy to actually see another person in the flesh that we don't mention mask status.

Dear Masked:

Many of us are missing in-person social interaction, Etiquetteer included. Reading your response was so refreshing! You would still be within your rights, however, to offer them an extra mask.

Etiquetteer would like to leave you all with the words of David Leonhardt from his piece “Irrational Covid Fears” in the New York Times (with thanks to the friend who pointed it out): “It’s true that experts believe vaccinated people should still sometimes wear a mask, partly because it’s a modest inconvenience that further reduces a tiny risk — and mostly because it contributes to a culture of mask wearing. It is the decent thing to do when most people still aren’t vaccinated. If you’re vaccinated, a mask is more of a symbol of solidarity than anything else.”

Pandemic Politeness: Office Masking, Vol. 20, Issue 28

Dear Etiquetteer:

I go to my office outside of [Insert Major American City Here] once or twice a week since COVID hit. It's a small two-story building with eight small office suites per floor along a narrow corridor and is extremely quiet: pre-COVID, one might encounter a fellow renter in the hallways once or twice a week. There's very low foot traffic in the hallways.

That said, during COVID, I have encountered a fellow renter four times going to/from the restroom, sometimes inside the restroom, and she never wears a mask. Even though I'm now fully vaccinated, it’s very uncomfortable crossing paths with her (or anyone) sans mask and I just want to yell at her to put on her damn mask when she’s in shared office areas. Am I being too nitpicky or, if not, do you have a reasonable yet unmistakably clear message I might offer?

Dear Masked:

Before delving into how to talk to this Maskless Person, let’s look at today’s Masking Environment. Aside from the politicization of masking efforts and general weariness after a year, the increase in vaccinations in the United States has led more people to feel hopeful about the End of the Pandemic, and therefore the End of Masking. But we are not there yet. The end is in sight, but it’s not that close yet. Even with more people getting vaccinated, masking and social distancing need to continue. As Dr. Abdul El-Sayed recently said, we need to continue to “Wash up, mask up, back up, vax up.”

So that’s one factor that might be impacting this Maskless Person’s decision to Mask Off at the office. The other is that it’s a ghost town. As you yourself note, you see maybe one person in the hall per visit. With nearly no one there, that’s a very seductive environment to let the mask fall completely.

Maskless Person’s behavior isn’t going to change on its own. That means communication, which can feel uncomfortable; no one likes to be called out. Start by acknowledging how rare it is to see other people in the building, but then note that there are other people using the common areas, and ask her to mask up when not in her office. Particles stay after people depart, or as Irving Berlin once put it, “The Song Is Ended, But the Melody Lingers On.” It’s possible she’ll respond in anger. Don’t respond in kind, but don’t back down either.

If your building manager hasn’t posted signage about mask requirements on the property, make that request. If they have already, ask them to send a memo to all tenants making clear that masks are required in common areas no matter how empty the building may seem.

Best wishes for a successful outcome! In the meantime, it’s probably a good idea for you to remain masked even in your office.

Post-Pandemic Perfect Propriety, Vol. 20, Issue 27

Globally, we are not yet out of the coronavirus pandemic woods. But with the increasing pace of vaccination, many people believe they can see light through the trees. The prospect of returning to the Life We Once Thought of as Normal is transforming from an Alluring Phantom to a Distinct Possibility. Or is it more of a Threat? And what does that mean? How are we supposed to behave and interact after these many months of social deprivation? Etiquetteer put out a call via social media to learn what anxieties people are feeling with the End Possibly in Sight. Here’s what readers shared, with Etiquetteer’s responses:

Dear Etiquetteer:

How do I be nice to folks whose behavior (as documented on social media) was far from Perfectly Proper? Do I have to make small talk about sourdough and vaccine brands for months on end or can we skip all that and just be real with each other?

Etiquetteer responds: If by “just be real with each other” you mean “call out Pandemic Scofflaws for their behavior,” you should minimize or halt interaction with Those People as much as possible. Small talk is a necessary social lubricant, but if you don’t want to be social with Those People, don’t be. Decline invitations. Don’t engage on social media. If/when they mention that they’ve noticed you draw back, ask for permission to have that conversation. “Some of what I saw you post on social media during the pandemic really disturbed me. Could we talk about that?” After that, it’s open season.

Otherwise, you may shorten small talk by introducing a more “real” and less trivial topic sooner; the degree of intimacy may vary. If the pandemic has taught us anything, it’s that Time and Friendship are not to be wasted. Also, nothing against the Sourdough Community, but Etiquetteer would rank that alongside Parking and/or Driving Directions and Cellphone Plans as Topics to Aid Sleep.

Too soon?

Dear Etiquetteer:

What do I do if being around a lot of people makes me uncomfortable even after it becomes “safe” to do so?

Etiquetteer responds: Managing Social COVID Anxiety will be a real challenge because many of us won’t anticipate it. Why feel anxious about something you’ve longed for all this time? Who knows, but the feelings are there! Etiquetteer is at this minute glancing anxiously at That Mr. Dimmick Who Thinks He Knows So Much. Only yesterday he hemmed and hawed his way out of an otherwise lovely weekend invitation for an out-of-state al fresco party next month for 20 people. All the elements of safety were there: a dear friend who’s observed all the protocols despite his bubble having to cross state lines, masked activity, good ventilation, etc. And yet That Mr. Dimmick, while thirsting for new stimuli, sights, and conversations, suddenly had doubts about interacting at close quarters, even outside, with total strangers.

“Proceed with caution” is classic advice. Build your tolerance by gathering with people you know and trust; increase the size and makeup of those gatherings as you feel comfortable. If you find yourself somewhere that unexpectedly triggers COVID anxiety for you, Etiquetteer gives you permission to make your excuses to your hosts and depart. People have been using illness, real or feigned, as an excuse to leave for centuries, but saying you’re not feeling well could trigger their COVID anxiety. Be honest but kind, and thank them for their patience and understanding.

Dear Etiquetteer:

I worry that the spontaneity of our pre-COVID existence will never return. We used to love to entertain and our home was open to friends, and whoever they had visiting was also welcome. Now everything has to be so tightly controlled in terms of the allowable number of guests. We have not entertained for a year. I miss the joy of sharing a meal with good friends. I miss the gentle art of hospitality.

Etiquetteer responds: Hospitality is a gentle and expansive art. Who doesn’t love an Auntie Mame Mob or a Holly Golightly Crush?* Now we have to balance the genuine urge to be hostly with the risk of transmisson. Use the Post-Pandemic Period for more targeted hospitality; be spontaneous with a smaller group instead! Mobs, crushes, and buffets can be wonderful, mad fun, but so can intimate al fresco meals with stimulating conversation. Yes, it will feel different, but it will still be fun because of who you welcome and what they bring of themselves to your party. Think of it as choosing a pair of earrings instead of a tiara; not as big, but still sets off one’s face beautifully.

*Actually, there are plenty of people who don’t — some of them can be quite tart about it, too — and Etiquetteer respects their preference for smaller-scale gatherings.

A Sterling Silver Rebuke, Vol. 20, Issue 26

“Pobody’s nerfect,” as Etiquetteer’s Dear Mother used to say; it can take years, even an entire lifetime, to make a complete lady or gentleman. Sometimes it feels like Error is the perpetual human condition. But how one communicates that someone is in error — “lacking in charm,” as Margaret Case Harriman put in Blessed Are the Debonair — also makes a difference. The rediscovery of an artifact this week leads Etiquetteer to tell a story of Error and its rebuke — in sterling silver.

Many years ago Etiquetteer had to attend a meeting with some Great Ladies. Needing to take notes, Etiquetteer reached into a jacket pocket for a pen, an ordinary gesture. But the pen that emerged was not an ordinary pen. A dear friend in the medical community had given this pen to Etiquetteer as sort of a joke after receiving it at a medical conference. It was marked with the name of a drug much in the news at that time as a cure for — how to say this delicately? — male performance enhancement. You’ve probably heard of it; it begins with a V.

Intent on taking notes, Etiquetteer didn’t notice what was on the pen, but a Great Lady did. Attempting to conceal how offended she was, she tried to laugh it off, which led to a shared laugh, and the knowledge that it was the only pen in any pocket. Crisis averted, until the exact same thing happened at the next meeting. There was no humor then, Etiquetteer recalls with a shudder, but a pointed glance and a noticeable chill in the room. The Offending Article was relegated to Etiquetteer’s home office to prevent another episode.

Some weeks later, at the conclusion of another meeting, the Great Lady made a gift in a Box of a Familiar Blue. It enclosed a sterling silver pen with the unique feature of a neckchain (see photo above), so that the user is never without it. While technically a lady’s accessory, Etiquetteer wore it for years and was delighted to find it again — but always with the memory of how gently but firmly the situation was handled. It’s a lesson for all of us.

Dress Dinner Challenge 2.9 Recap -- Easter Weekend

Because it’s April, of course that means attempting a recipe or two from Last Dinner on the Titanic. So here’s this weekend’s dinner menu:

Consommé Brunoise tenté peut-être . . . mais peut-être pas

Églefin au four, sauce piquante Haricots vert

Salade oubliée qui s'en soucie

Baies en gelée de chartreuse

Since last week’s disappointing consommé experience, I’ve concluded that for a clear soup to be successful, it truly needs to be piping hot when placed on the table, and that it needs to be eaten immediately. That means not pausing to photograph it for Instagram*. So some leftover ingredients from last week got pressed into service. At least this was more flavorful. But you know . . . clear soup is very boring to eat, particularly when dining alone. I don’t think I’m going to bother with it any longer, except perhaps for a luncheon party when one can use those two-handled bouillon cups and just drink it.

The fish was much more successful. When it comes to cooking fish, I’m pretty much a rank amateur. But this recipe for baked haddock with sharp sauce from the second class menu in Last Dinner on the Titanic looked achievable. The sauce was actually much more involved than the fish, with butter, a small chopped onion, flour, brown sugar (!), dry mustard, cider vinegar, tomato paste, and a few other bits — and then it needed to be strained (to keep the blackened bits of onion out of the final product). But the result was delightful, and I can serve the leftovers on my breakfast eggs. The toughest part of dealing with the haddock (for me) was skinning it, but it got done.** After that it was fairly easy.

After all that, I wasn’t about to be bothered with some damn salad. In the words of the late Edith Potter, “I’d just as soon eat my way across a front lawn.”

Also darling, you might want to do something about portion control. Less is more, especially in this case.

I’d made peaches in chartreuse jelly from Last Dinner on the Titanic many years ago when my parents came for Thanksgiving. My father gave it his most severe criticism: “I don’t need to have that again.” But I do rather like the idea of making jelly with liqueurs, so . . . so why not make another attempt? With my allergy to peaches, I substituted berries.

Well . . . the final jelly looks like opalescent stained glass by Louis Comfort Tiffany or LaFarge, and I was surprised to realize that it was almost the exact color of the table runner. The recipe called for it to be served broken, but I think I’d have preferred it pre-molded in a champagne coupe. That would also be better for portion control. What you see on the plate is really too much.

The taste, however — how shall I say this? — it tastes very much of itself. Quite possibly adding whipped cream would help, but there’s nothing uncertain about this dessert. If it was a high school athlete, you’d tell it to take a shower. Thank goodness for Easter candy!

Next week I will probably find another recipe or two from Last Dinner on the Titanic, since that anniversary is approaching April 14-15.

*This exercise has, alas, turned Etiquetteer into what one friend describes as “the supperazzi.”

**Never ask how the sausage is made . . .

Library Etiquette, Vol. 20, Issue 25

Today, April 4, turns out to be National School Librarian Day, so it seems Perfectly Proper to review some dos and don’ts for public spaces that are evolving beyond the stereotype of the Hushed Temple of Learning. Libraries are changing to serve more of a community’s needs than just books and study space. Mercy goodness, they’ve added a couple cafés at the Boston Public Library, and that’s just one example.

Even though libraries are changing, the need to respect others by keeping quiet is still paramount. That includes your devices and children. Your earbuds may not leak, your smartphone must not beep, bong, or ding; your kid may not yell “DADDY, REACH ME THAT ONE!” except possibly in the Children’s Room. People will indicate if you’re disruptive, but Etiquetteer cannot guarantee that they’ll do it politely with a Pointed Glance or Icy Glare.

Maintaining your own silence is especially important in designated quiet rooms. And Etiquetteer thinks it’s a sign of how libraries are changing that quiet rooms have to be designated. Is quiet is no longer the expected norm at a library? And how do we feel about that?

Refreshments are another area where Boundaries of Perfect Propriety are changing. The most important concern is preserving the condition of the books, not using food or drink to power through ennui or writer’s block. There are libraries that will allow covered beverages to accommodate the Caffeine Dependent, but Etiquetteer advises caution. If you’re bringing food or drink of any kind, please don’t absentmindedly leave it on the bookshelves while you’re browsing, especially if it’s liquid. It puts the books at risk.

The Boston Public Library’s Appropriate Library Use Policy will give you an idea of the breadth of behaviors that need to be considered in large urban libraries. The “no gambling” rule came as a shock. The New York Public Library is no-nonsense about the need for obedience. Their list of Prohibited Conduct begins with “Disregarding instructions given by Library staff.” (So don’t try it.) Etiquetteer likes better how it’s phrased at St. Xavier’s College: “Kindly cooperate and interact gently with library staff.” But the Boston Athenaeum summarizes library Perfect Propriety perfectly in its rules and regulations: “All persons using the Library are expected to conduct themselves in a quiet, civil, and courteous manner.”

The next time you run into your library, be sure to thank the librarians for all their good work — quietly.