Vacation Invitations, Vol. 20, Issue 72

Dear Etiquetteer: 

We have a lovely guest house* in a town where people love to vacation. We have invited friends to stay but part of the invite requires them to let us know when they can travel to come visit, i.e., to invite themselves for a specific time. We want people to visit, so how do we encourage them to “invite themselves?” And how should people generally handle such invites? We've been on the other side of this, too. Friends with a country place have invited us to "come up whenever we want," and we know they mean it, but how do we “invite ourselves up?”

I told a friend we wanted him to come visit. Then a month or two later he writes, “So where’s my invitation?” Argh! I invited you because I meant it! But I know that with the long distance, you need to determine when you can come, so I can’t invite you for only a specific weekend (well, unless travel time is minimal).

Dear Hostly:

No, but you can start there and see where it goes. A date is the essential cornerstone of a good invitation. Without it, the edifice of the vacation falls to the ground, no matter how well cemented it is with genuine affection and good intentions. Some negotiation is in order.

It's very easy to say "Oh, come any time! We'd love to have you**." So easy, in fact, that when some vacation house owners get called on it, they start hemming and hawing and saying things like "Oh gosh, any weekend but that one." This leaves the guest feeling silly and unwanted, even though they were following instructions. They are then less likely to propose another date. 

So while your own invitations are issued sincerely, you see how the Open Invitation got a bad reputation. You can cement your own sincerity by suggesting a date as a start, like bidding in a bridge game. Etiquetteer understands your concern about your guests having to coordinate long-distance travel, but if you treat the date you suggest as only one possibility, your guest will feel more comfortable suggesting something else that works for both of you.

You might open the bidding with "We have just been looking at our calendar for the next six months and would love to have you all come for [Insert Specific Dates Here], or perhaps some other time that month." This gives your guest the chance to counter with an acceptance, another date, or a plea for time to consider. The latter should come with an end date. "Then let's check in a couple weeks from now, if your plans get resolved. We're so eager to welcome you to our little slice of Heaven!"

Your prospective guests might also just not want to come for any number of reasons they don't want to talk about: limited vacation time, limited resources, professional or family commitments, health concerns, or lack of interest in your "town where people love to vacation." They may be trying to put you off as gently as possible. (Etiquetteer would prefer a forthright "We'd love to see you but have plans to travel to other parts of the world first.") Listen for clues like "We just aren't sure what our plans are going to be for the next year or so," and pause future invitations for awhile.

Now, how do you follow up on the generosity of your Country House Friends? Take them at their word and contact them with "You've been so kind to suggest that we come up to your Country Place any time. It just so happens we'll be near there in a couple months. Could we come up from Friday night to Monday morning on [Insert Specific Dates Here]?" They'll either agree or respond with "Oh gosh, any weekend but that one." And then you can suggest another date . . . or not.

Etiquetteer commends your generous Spirit of Hospitality and wishes you many Happy Times With Your Friends at your Lovely Guest House. 

*To be clear, this is a small free-standing house in one corner of our property and not a bed and breakfast. We are not innkeepers looking for paying guests.

**Isn't the Hollywood Equivalent "Let's take a meeting?" Etiquetteer believes that actually translates to "Goodbye."

I Went to a Marvelous Party, Vol. 20, Issue 71

When did you go to your last party? Not a small dinner at the home of friends, not a holiday meal with family, but an actual honest-to-goodness dress-up cocktail party? For Etiquetteer it’s been since February 29, 2020, just before quarantine began. In the intervening year and a half, our Perfect Propriety has gotten rusty with the Absence of Other People. So how wonderful to reopen the Social Window last night at the twice-postponed benefit reception for the Gibson House Museum! With roughly 70 people, mostly masked, in four high-ceilinged rooms, it was very much what the late Noel Coward would have called “a marvelous party.”

Etiquetteer just could not get over the excitement of seeing people in party clothes again. Many of the ladies took the 1920s theme seriously to sport headbands* of feathers and beads, velvet cloche hats, tiny handbags, and seriously sequined dresses to evoke the flapper look. Some of the gentlemen, too, celebrated the era with everything from crisp black tie to newsboy caps.** For Etiquetteer it was nothing short of a thrill to put on a suit and bow tie again, along with a matching mask. It’s been too long!

Because masks were very much a part of the evening, due to the venue’s wise protocols to prevent COVID spread as much as possible. The guests were all aware in advance and knew that masking throughout the evening was required. Managing a drink and an occasional hors d’oeuvre is challenging enough even without a mask. Settling near a surface made it easier to set down a glass, slip a mask off one ear, consume a Tasty Morsel, and remask. Etiquetteer got quite adept (especially as a lover of hors d’oeuvres), but a little practice at home beforehand will make the next party smoother.

It’s all about accessorizing, in this case with a matching mask and bow tie.

Finally, it looks like the handshake is making a comeback, but not everyone is quite sure they want to be shaking hands again. Several people instinctively returned to extending the traditional Gracious Gesture, but others were unsure. We saw the full range of Alternate Gestures of Greeting, from elbow bumps to fist air bumps (making a fist bump from a distance) to the Slight Bow (which Etiquetteer prefers) — everything but a Booty Bump. Etiquetteer predicted earlier that the handshake would not come back . . . and yet here it is. While the phrase “I don’t shake hands” used not to be Perfectly Proper at all, the time is coming when it will be, delivered with a Slight Bow and an air of apology. As long as we all acknowledge in a friendly way that everyone is still adjusting, we’ll do well.

But what was nicest to see was the evident joy everyone had in being back at a party again. A show of hands indicated that, like Etiquetteer, well over the half the room had chosen to make this benefit reception their first almost-post-pandemic party. And as Coward Himself would have said, “I couldn’t have liked it more.”

*These used to be known as “headache bands,” believe it or not.

**A gentleman does not wear a hat indoors (unless it’s religious headgear, of course), but when considered part of a costume’s theme, allowances must be made.

Ghosting, Vol. 20, Issue 70

Dear Etiquetteer:

I recently met a woman and her husband socially. Initially, I was fascinated by them. She has many similar interests to mine. I admire his career. I thought it would be the beginning of a nice friendship.

After further acquaintance, I find her overbearing. She calls me too frequently and I usually feel that she has an ulterior motive and wants something from me. He has been fine for the most part but the one time I saw him drinking, he was a little aggressive. I am a very patient person and I tend to attract people who are dramatic and need an audience.

I am trying to ease out of this friendship, but I’m trying to figure out how to do this. Is it acceptable to ghost them or do I have to explicitly tell them that I do not want to continue the friendship? Or can I just say I am "busy" each time they contact me?

Dear Friendly Ghost:

It’s a terrible thing to believe that your company is not really wanted for itself. Etiquetteer sympathizes. Boundaries are healthy, and you just need a little help setting them, and maintaining them, with Perfect Propriety. Etiquetteer appreciates that you don’t want to be hurtful, but need your freedom.

Ghosting, which Psychology Today defines as “abruptly ending communication with someone without explanation,” feels a bit cowardly unless violence is involved. Often in abusive relationships, disappearing without a trace is essential for one’s safety. Since your new social friends are not compromising your physical safety or security, a subtler strategy is needed.

Unobtrusively reduce your contact with this couple. Let all the calls go to voicemail, maybe taking one a week. Decline the invitations, always with Infinite Regret, but with greater brevity. Be careful not to use standard phrases like “I’m so sorry we haven’t seen each other lately” when that’s exactly what you want to avoid. Cloak yourself in an air of mystery, e.g. “There are a couple projects that have really taken up a lot of my time. I wish I could say more.” Etiquetteer can’t quite imagine what your friend’s “ulterior motives” might be — this sounds vaguely like the start of a horror movie — but once you know what they are, gently and consistently express disinterest.

Should your new friends confront you directly — “You never take my calls any more and we never see you!” — this is still the line to take, that you have other calls on your time that are keeping you away from almost everyone. Don’t apologize; instead, try “Thanks so much for your understanding.” Eventually, they’ll take the hint and reach out less often.

Etiquetteer thinks it’s important to emphasize that ghosting is different from the old custom of cutting. Cutting is a deliberate and very public attempt to insult someone. Ghosting, while difficult, remains out of the public eye.

Etiquetteer wishes you success and calm as you extricate yourself from this social relationship.

Grudges, Vol. 20, Issue 69

Dear Etiquetteer:

How long should a person be miffed for a social slight, and when should a person just drop it? And does the degree of the social slight determine the length of the miff?

• Five years ago: Three high school graduation gifts of $20 each; no response from the recipients.

• Two years ago: A wedding gift of $200 cash to friends; no response from the recipients.

• One year ago: A wedding gift of $1,000 to nephew and his bride, on behalf of the nephew’s grandmother; no response.

I resolve no longer to send people cash gifts, but will send the equivalent to a non-profit organization of my choice — because the nonprofit organizations respond with Lovely Notes of Thanks!

Now to my question: when should I stop being miffed about this? Do grudges have an expiration date? When does a whine become stale? Thank you for your attention and expertise!

Dear Grudging:

Thank goodness you didn’t ask about feuds. That Mr. Dimmick Who Thinks He Knows So Much appreciates the value of a good feud much more than he ought to . . .

But since you asked, the whine you’re serving is already stale. And more to the point, you’re the only one drinking it. Etiquetteer guarantees your recipients have moved on already. Instead of “Forgive and forget,” you might consider “Forgive and file for reference,” so that future gifts might include stationery and postage stamps.

Of course Etiquetteer understands your desire to be acknowledged and thanked; everyone wants that. But the purpose of a gift is not to generate thanks, but to be given. So while Etiquetteer appreciates where your non-profit donation gift comes from, Etiquetteer can’t define it as being given in the Proper Spirit.

Your reference to high school gifts reminded Etiquetteer of Dear Uncle’s practice with teenage staff at his favorite restaurant. When they graduated from high school, he made a bargain with each of them. Once he received from the Happy Graduate one of their graduation photographs he would give them a brand-new silver pen. But he had to get the photo first, or there was a handoff. He wasn’t not going to get that photo! After his death, Etiquetteer found among his things a cigar box filled with at least two dozen small graduation photos, the measure of his influence and interest.

Wedding gifts of four figures, however, really ought to be acknowledged in writing. Etiquetteer knows it sounds like tattling, but the classic advice is to check with the mother of the recipient you know. “Gladys, you don’t happen to know if Dewy and Manley* got that $1,000 check from Grandma, do you? Neither she nor I have heard a thing about it from them, and it doesn’t seem to have cleared the bank, and I’m terribly worried,” etc. etc. (This is also why a check is better than cash — documentation.)

For your own sake, Grudging, put wings on those grudges and let them fly away. Believe Etiquetteer, they impact only you. And it’s so wearying to have to remember when and with whom you have to be touchy or offended. Let go, and renew your Perfect Propriety by spending time and energy with those who already appreciate you. That will rejuvenate you.

*Etiquetteer’s standard bridal couple is always Miss Dewy Freshness and Mr. Manley Firmness.

Sauceboats and Silver, Vol. 20, Issue 68

Dear Etiquetteer:

I was idly considering the “gravy boat” for my china pattern. It makes sense. It is a low oblong pitcher, with handle, and there is a plate in which it fits. Perfect if you are pouring the sauce (heaven forfend that there be gravy on the table in this house, we only do sauces). This reminded me of the gravy boat from my grandmother’s 1950s set that was never used. It is also an oblong, but with spouts on both ends and it is attached to its underplate. I presume that this one was intended for use with a gravy ladle. Then I started poking about, and there do seem to be a number of “gravy boats” that really are footed, handled pitchers with attached underplates.

Now for the question(s). If the underplate is attached, even if there is a handle and spout, I would presume that piece is to be used with a ladle; pouring would make no sense. Is this true? (In which case the spout and handle are relict, I would think.)

Is the attached underplate peculiar to a particular era? Is there any traceable evolution of the gravy boat that you know of?

Dear Sauced:

Your query sent Etiquetteer off to the pantry to examine Dear Grandmother’s sauceboat*, which falls between your descriptions: a boat-shaped pitcher with a handle, a spout, and an attached underplate. Etiquetteer has always considered it risky to pour directly from this; anything that dribbled onto the underplate could dribble from there to the tablecloth when tilted.

Most of Etiquetteer’s usual resources are silent on this useful implement. Millicent Fenwick** emphasizes how sauceboat shapes were changing, and that sauce tureens — by then considered old-fashioned — could still be practical and not merely decorative. She describes sauceboats as footed and sauce tureens with an underplate.

Emily Post doesn’t even go into that much detail, but makes it clear that it is usual to serve sauce with a ladle. “If there is no ladle — or spoon — you pour the sauce from the sauce boat.” In this century, the Texas School of Protocol advocates adding an underplate whether you use a ladle or not. This may not be strictly formal, but it’s Perfectly Proper, especially for Great Feasts like Thanksgiving (when we are more likely to see Casual Clothes and Good China together).

Etiquetteer will leave the evolution of the sauceboat to Experts in That Field, but will happily direct you to this Ode to the Gravy Boat, which celebrates not only the useful implement, but the gravies and sauces conveyed by it. In the meantime, please continue to provide a ladle when serving your sauce, or gravy. Etiquetteer loves both.

A set of fish knives and fish forks at DartSilver.

Dear Etiquetteer:

The popularity of Downton Abbey leads one to wonder if there is naught but a forlorn hope for the return of the fish fork or that loveliest of blades***, the fish knife. One also wonders how many readers under the age of 70 even know what I am talking about. How fondly I recall dining at the Copley Plaza and having the requisite utensils placed before me, not to mention Dover sole at the Savoy Grill. In the spirit of Etiquetteer’s dinner challenges, might you offer some thoughts on place settings of yore?

Dear Dining:

Alas, the fish knife has disappeared from regular home use. Standard silver services in this century seem to include only five pieces per person, only one a knife. And even at large functions in hotels all the knives look alike with rounded blades; the uniquely pointed fish knife, curved out on the bottom and in on the top, is distinguished by its absence. If the fish knife is to return, Etiquetteer predicts a house to house battle. Let’s start at yours.

Etiquetteer would like to see a bit of regional silver come back: the iced tea spoon. From Richard Osterberg’s Sterling Silver Flatware for Dining Elegance we learn that this long spoon was substituted by Southern brides for cream soup spoons in their silver services. (Cream soup spoons have round bowls; other soup spoons have oval bowls.) Indeed, Dear Grandmother’s service includes only table knives and a legion of butter spreaders — no fish knives, alas! — and no soup spoons of any kind, but it does include iced tea spoons. Etiquetteer will have to put them out for some sort of parfait dessert this winter.

To knit these two queries together, it’s worth noting that the experts of yore all observe that a household without servants should serve as simple a menu as possible, even for a formal dinner. For a fish course, that would mean a fish that is served with its accompaniments, eliminating the need for a sauceboat. Emily Post even suggested serving tartar sauce in a hollow basket of lemon rind. Etiquetteer can’t see why that wouldn’t work for other fish sauces, too.

Iced tea spoon with teaspoon.

*The French call it a sauciére. The Edwardians used to sprinkle bits of French in their letters (and doubtless in their daily speech, too). These days, malheureusement, the practice is considered pretentious. 🧐🤭

**Vogue’s Book of Etiquette.

***What an excellent title for a murder mystery, That Loveliest of Blades! Etiquetteer can’t remember which Hercule Poirot story includes the sentence “It takes considerable strength to drive a table knife home,” but it remains lodged in memory . . . like a knife.

Petiquette, Vol. 20, Issue 67

Dear Etiquetteer:

I was overdue to host our book club, so I volunteered for one of our autumn meetings. There is one woman who brings her little dog everywhere, including to other people’s homes. It hasn’t been an issue before as the last couple people to host have had dogs, too. My landlord has a “no pets” rule but I don't think that will dissuade her. She made a point of telling everyone last night that she can’t leave the dog home alone because she barks and disturbs the neighbors with whom she shares a common wall.

I don’t dislike dogs but I’m more of a cat person. I really don’t want her dog in my home, and heaven forfend on my ivory sofa. Yes, she puts the dog right next to her on the host’s furniture. Do I just have to bite my tongue and allow her to bring the dog and make sure she doesn’t grab a seat on the sofa, or is there an extremely polite way to let her know she’s welcome to leave her dog at home or at her daughter’s house?

Dear Dogged:

It’s your house, so your rules apply. If you don’t want dogs in your house, you need to make that clear far enough in advance that your fellow members can make other plans. Any pre-meeting announcement needs to include that information. “My home is a Pet Free Zone; thanks for your understanding.”

Notice that this language applies to all pets, not just to Sweet Precious Darling. But if SPD attends so many book club meetings that it’s an auxiliary member, its owner will know where that instruction is directed. It would be courteous for you to tell her in advance even of the announcement that she’ll need to make other arrangements so that a) the dog isn’t home alone to annoy the neighbors, and b) isn’t in your home to annoy you.

There are so many Good Dog Owners out there who understand that their own doggies are not universally invited, but their thoughtfulness is often obscured by Indulgent Dog Owners who put their own convenience (and possibly the dog’s) over anyone else’s. It’s likely that your fellow member will confront you about your rule and try to get you to make an exception. Don’t back down. Reply that you wanted to be sure she knew in plenty of time so she could find an alternative since you remembered that SPD couldn’t be left home alone. And of course she would want to show as much courtesy to a fellow book club member as she would to her neighbors . . . Should she question you about why you even have a No Pets Rule, don’t take the bait, and don’t blame the landlord. “That’s not up for discussion. All you need to know is that I can’t have dogs here, and I really appreciate your understanding and bringing her someplace else before the club meeting. That means a lot to me.”

In a worst case scenario, have three or four old towels on hand just in case she worms her doggie into your house somehow. They can be used for a dog bed on the floor.

Etiquetteer wishes you well as you fulfill your book club obligations within the rules of your household. It would be very naughty of you to recommend that the book club take up any of the works of Barbara Woodhouse.

And this publication would also be a bit obvious for the book club, too.

Dress Codes, Vol. 20, Issue 66

When the inbox is empty, Etiquetteer turns to the media for inspiration. And today’s New York Times includes an article on a Great Big Elephant in the Etiquette Room, high school dress codes. After getting “dress coded” for wearing “distressed” jeans that included a rip extending into her upper thigh, 13-year-old Sophia Trevino initiated a weekly dress code protest. Each Friday at her middle school in Cobb County, Georgia, she and other students wear T-shirts with the message “Dress Codes Are Sexist Racist Classist.” It seems to have provoked significant discussion throughout the school system.

Etiquetteer remains a believer in dress codes, but agrees with some of Miss Trevino’s arguments. “. . . her main issue with the dress code was that it singled out girls and made them responsible for boys’ actions. ‘In school, they think that the boys are just drooling over our shoulders and our thighs,’ Sophia said. ‘They aren’t. They don’t care. And even if they do, that’s not our fault. That’s theirs.’”

In this century, as more and more people are realizing, women will not be told what to wear by men. The 2021 Olympics this summer included the protest of women athletes fed up with having to wear “embarrassing” bikini bottoms to play volleyball and other sports. We also have to acknowledge that the teenage years are a period of fashion exploration as people start to figure out who they are and what they want to project about themselves. You can’t know the results of an experiment until you conduct it!

Miss Trevino advocates for a unisex dress code: “Shirts, bottoms, shoes.” “Such a policy would allow tops that show the abdomen, midriff, neck lines and cleavage and bottoms could expose legs, thighs and hips. Any outfit would need to cover the groin, buttocks and nipples.” Etiquetteer can imagine provocateurs wearing bathing suits to class to test this policy, and they’d win. If we’re really going to be gender neutral about this, Etiquetteer would specify minimum coverage from neck to knees and elbows. One solution that isn’t covered in the NYT article is a school uniform, but that, too, is fraught with disagreement. Self-expression and a dress code do not need to be mutually exclusive; the creative challenge is to find where they intersect.

What’s missing from all this? Elegance, which Etiquetteer would define here as “restrained beauty of style.” The late Marlene Dietrich once observed 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, too, benefit from elegance, but elegance is not about being fancy or snobbish. A plain white T-shirt and an unripped pair of jeans can be much more elegant than a fussy frock or a badly fitting suit.

Why does Etiquetteer still advocate for dress codes? Because they underline a Sense of Occasion, whether that’s in a workplace, a courtroom, a house of worship, a high-end restaurant, a beach . . . or a school. The Cobb County school spokeswoman said that their dress code “includes a minimum standard of dress and exists, per the policy, so students dress in a way which is ‘consistent with the formality of school.’” Because a school is designed to be an arena of education, not a catwalk for fashion statements.

Etiquetteer applauds Miss Trevino for initiating a valuable discussion, and hopes that the school system can tweak its dress code to be more equitable . . . and that the fashion for “distressed” clothing with rips and tears will disappear permanently.

*Etiquetteer has quoted this before, when telling the story about the night he saw all the way to Crawford’s Notch.

Neighbors, Vol. 20, Issue 65

Dear Etiquetteer:

I’ve just spent the better part of two weeks caring for my neighbor’s cat. I live right next door. The cat has been miserably unhappy the entire time but I haven’t really told my neighbors. I think that their request was a bit excessive but they said they had no one else, not even their own son who lives five minutes away. He did go over to tend to the cat two whole days.

If they ask again, what do I say? I really have no valid reason why I can’t simply walk over there every day but two weeks is too much.

Same neighbors often very kindly invite me over for dinner, usually grilled burgers which is great with me, except the burgers are terrible. It’s like chewing on ground chip board. I'm looking for some help to create a list of reasons I can’t go over there for dinner. Oops, I mean a list of reasons why I will have to decline their offers. It is my turn to reciprocate and make dinner for them; perhaps some perfectly delicious burgers made my way.

Dear Catty-Cornered:

It’s queries like this that pit Etiquetteer’s Dear Mother against Hollywood Jane Austen. Dear Mother always said that “Honesty is the best policy.” But Hollywood Jane Austen also said “Honesty is a greatly overrated virtue*.” Where is the balance?

Your Cat Care Conundrum come in two parts: the cat’s health, and Perfectly Proper neighborly support. You never know when you might need their assistance when you’re away or (let’s hope not) incapacitated. It sounds as though this might be the first time they’ve made this request. If they make it too often — say, two or three times a year — you need to say you’re unavailable, but with an air of Infinite Regret. Otherwise, be as accommodating as you’re able. You can’t predict when you’ll need a favor from them.

As to the cat’s health, you need to be Perfectly Frank with them about what was happening. “You know, I didn’t tell you, but while you were away Fluffy was just disconsolate without you. Have you talked to your veterinarian?” Your neighbors can’t take action to keep their pet healthy without information only you can provide. Speak up, and be as specific as you can about what you observed.

Neighborly hospitality does sometimes require patience, truly. But you’ve already discovered that quietly providing a Good Example of How Things Are Done is the best rejoinder. Follow your impulse to serve Burgers Your Way when you invite them over next, but don’t treat it like a Teachable Moment. Share what’s special — a method, ingredient, or seasoning, whatever — like you’re admitting them into a Secret Society. You might end up discussing cooking influences and expand both your repertoires.

Best wishes for a successful outcome, and bon appetit!

*Etiquetteer says Hollywood Jane Austen because, while this quote comes from the 1940 film version of Pride and Prejudice, it does not seem to appear in the text of Miss Austen’s novel.

How to Decline a Guilt Trip, Vol. 20, Issue 64

Dear Etiquetteer:

I have brunch every Sunday with my neighbor D. We take turns driving to a nearby bistro to pick up our orders. It’s lovely to sit down to a delicious meal and have a chat, but sometimes I just want to have all of Sunday to myself. We order brunch at 10:00 and by the time it’s picked up and on our plates it’s 10:30 or later. Then just like that a good portion of the day is gone.

On the times that I’ve suggested that she is welcome to have brunch with someone else or we skip a week, she gets an almost sad look on her face and explains how much she’d miss her corned beef hash. Yes, she orders the same thing week after week and is always surprised when I change up my order. Somehow I think it would be better if she believes that it’s her idea to skip brunch occasionally. She does actually cancel now and then but I when I mention that I have a call at our usual time she just says we can do it later.

D is semi-retired from her own business. She’s her own boss, while I still work full time for a large corporation. She does respect my time during the week but seems to forget that I need the weekend to catch up on everything else. She's a very energetic 70-year-old woman and can do more in a day than most people 20 years younger. She's a great friend and I don't want to do anything to offend her, but it’s clear I need to do something when I want to celebrate non-brunch Sundays.

Dear Bracketed into Brunch:

It’s rarely Perfectly Proper to refuse a gift, but a guilt trip is not a gift. And “great friends” are not the sort who keep trying to give them to you. What you need to do is stop feeling guilty about spending your time as you choose. The old expression “No one can take advantage of you without your permission” applies here. When D tells you “Oh, we can go later,” tell her, “Actually, I can’t.” When D starts to get droopy about missing her hash*, cheerfully remind her that she can still order it and enjoy it without you. You are not the secret ingredient. So lose that long face, D! Turn that frown upside down!

You might even think about billing your “non-brunch Sundays” in such a way that the focus is on your solitude. Tell D you’re planning a Self Care Sunday or a Solitude Sunday or Me Day to underline that you’re blocking 24 full hours to clear your mind.

When you are brunching, use the conversation for clues about D’s other friends (people she could connect with when you aren’t available) and interests (for things you could encourage her to do when you aren’t available). But just as you are responsible for your own time, so is D responsible for hers. Routine is comfortable and reliable, of course, and Etiquetteer has observed that routine becomes more valuable as one ages. But having a Plan B also makes a Perfectly Proper difference when routines get disrupted.

Etiquetteer wishes you well as you negotiate a neighborly arrangement that honors your boundaries.

*Etiquetteer has been known to order the same thing for years and years at certain restaurants. When you’ve found perfection, nothing else will do, whether it’s lobster Newburg or chicken fried rice.

Condolence Correspondence, Vol. 20, Issue 63

Dear Etiquetteer:

A relative of mine died recently, quite unexpectedly, and I’ll be sending a sympathy card to his widow. My challenge is that this cousin was never nice to me, ever. Do I just stick with “I’m so sorry for your loss. You are in my thoughts and prayers?”

Dear Condoling:

You already know that you have to be nice about this and not mention how the deceased treated you in your condolence. So how convenient that condolence notes can be brief. But your query gives Etiquetteer another chance to share that the most important purpose of a condolence is to express support for the survivors. Since you don’t have anything good to say about the deceased, say nothing about him. Focus instead on the feelings of who you’re writing to and your support for them. “I know this must be an emotional and difficult time and I feel for what you’re going through” doesn’t even allude to your own experience with the deceased.

Euphemism can be deliciously tempting at times, but be careful. “Uncle Savage was a remarkably vital personality who left his mark on everyone he knew” can be read two ways, but it’s dangerous to assume that the recipient will only see the kinder interpretation. Best for you to resist the temptation.

Finally, the phrase “thoughts and prayers” has become so openly mocked* as insincere that Etiquetteer thinks it best to find another way to say it. “We are praying for you and your family at this difficult time” or “Sending healing thoughts to all of you” communicate it unambiguously.

Etiquetteer wrote extensively about condolence correspondence in Volume 16, which offers more suggestions on sending, and responding to, condolences.

*The “Thoughts and Prayers App” video is just one example, and it’s from as long ago as 2016.

Cutting, Vol. 20, Issue 62

A news item about two Famous Old White Men (OWM) quarreling at a grocery store made Etiquetteer think about the old 19th-century custom of cutting, and how none of us would have had to hear about this incident if one of these OWM had just cut the other.

What happened was this. Larry David, star of Curb Your Enthusiasm, took exception to the legal clientele of an erstwhile friend, equally famous lawyer Alan Dershowitz. Words were exchanged in a very public place, the neighborhood general store. Having a heated disagreement is one thing; having it publicly where others cannot avoid it is quite another — not Perfectly Proper. At least no one was taunted with the now traditional OWM threat to “get off my lawn.”

Cutting was a much cleaner way to express one’s disapproval. At its core it meant not acknowledging the presence or existence of another person in such a way that they couldn’t help but notice. Usually it involved studiously looking somewhere else: above (the cut sublime), at one’s shoes (the cut infernal — bonus points if you were fiddling with your shoelaces), or in another direction (the cut indirect). The Nuclear Option, when unavoidable and only for the worst offenders, is the Cut Direct: “to stare an acquaintance in the face and pretend not to know him*.”

Edith Wharton described the cut in her short story “Autre Temps.” “. . . from the captain’s table, [Mrs. Lidcote] had seen Mrs. Lorin Boulger’s revolving eye-glass** pause and the eye behind it grow as blank as a dropped blind.” There was her negation. And in Wharton’s novella New Year’s Day, part of Old New York, Lizzie Hazeldean feels the cut of Sabina Wesson, who is clearly the Grand Mistress of the Cut:

“. . . Mrs. Wesson, who, two seconds earlier, appeared in all her hard handsomeness to be bearing straight down on Mrs. Hazeldean, with a scant yard of clear parquet between them — Mrs. Wesson, as her animated back and her active red fan now called on all the company to notice, had never been there at all, had never seen Mrs. Hazeldean (“Was she at Mrs. Struthers’s last Sunday? How odd! I must have left before she got there —”), but was busily engaged, on the farther side of the piano, in examining a picture to which her attention appeared to have been called by the persons nearest her.”

“So that’s what it feels like!” Lizzie reflected later. “It was the first time in her life that she had ever been deliberately ‘cut’; and the cut was a deadly injury in old New York.” But like many etiquette rules of the period, there were gender restrictions. Gentlemen could cut each other, but never a lady under any circumstances. Unmarried ladies were not allowed to cut married ladies, but married ladies could cut who they wished. Unmarried ladies could only cut gentlemen as a Last Resort. This often happened when there was no other way to get them to take the hint that she Was Not Interested Period. You’ll find more on the origin and usage of the Cut here.

Cutting was a way to conclude relationships between individuals. In this century we have cancel culture, “the practice or tendency of engaging in mass canceling as a way of expressing disapproval and exerting social pressure.” To say that it’s much discussed is putting it mildly. In fact, Etiquetteer finds it so intimidating it may be necessary to lie down for the rest of the afternoon with a cold compress and Edith Wharton.

Is cutting a sensible custom for this century? Perhaps in some sort of Icy Revenge Fantasy, but really, simply avoiding your enemies is best. Etiquette is much more about being inclusive than exclusive these days. Save your cuts for the Last Resort. In the meantime, cultivate with courtesy the relationships you want to strengthen. What could be more Perfectly Proper than that?

*Etiquetteer cannot remember where he first encountered a declaration applied in only the very rarest cases: “Sir, I do not know you.” But strictly speaking, cuts are marked by silence.

**A sort of lorgnette.

Reader Response: How to Treat the Staff, Vol. 20, Issue 61

Etiquetteer was surprised and pleased to hear from quite a few readers after last week’s column on how to treat the staff. Below are some thoughtful responses:

From a frequent reader: Another winner column. I think the best way to discern someone’s true character is to observe how they treat service people, of all types but especially waitpersons. I used to work with a man who was browbeaten by his wife and bossed by his in-laws. This did not make him act generously to waitresses, as one would hope. He was, in fact, tyrannical and demanding. Needless to say . . . I let him have it with both barrels.

Etiquetteer responds: Etiquetteer has witnessed This Sort of Behavior many times before, and sadly has to agree with you. Etiquetteer still remembers attending an elaborate awards luncheon many years ago and seeing a low-level staffer make the waitress jump through hoops for all sorts of alleged faults — during the presentations. Etiquetteer can never hear the phrase “More gravy” without thinking of that person.

From a shop owner: it enrages me when I see customers mistreat staff. If I’m behind a bitchy customer, I apologize for [that customer] when its my turn. But it’s even worse when employers mistreat staff. Does the boss want to do the work? No, that’s why he/she hired staff. 😑 My store’s staff is considered family and I do everything I can to keep them happy. Having no children, the store is my legacy and therefore they are part of that, too.

Etiquetteer responds: As a customer, expressing sympathy to staff is truly meaningful.

From a business executive: A further tweak on your suggestion to “send a factual, sternly-worded message to Corporate.” This is something I have done from time to time. When I feel I have a message I want listened to I always explicitly address my letter to the company’s CEO by name at his/her office address. The letter, rarely, but sometimes, is actually read by the CEO. But I have found that it is always promptly handled by a thoughtful intelligent respondent well versed in customer service, i.e., you (believe that) you are being heard. And as a result sometimes you are heard and things do actually change.

From a retiree: Nice item . . . And then there is the reverse side of “how to treat the staff,” i.e., what so many companies and organizations seem to ignore, forgetting that good treatment of customers is important and that bad treatment can lose them business. The way the various local branches of major banks deal with their customers provides an excellent example of their policies and/or their personnel’s approach to with customer relations, ranging from abominable to “that‘s the bank that gets my business.” And, of course, there are the mobile phone service providers whose service to customers doesn’t justify the word “service.”

Etiquetteer responds: Service with a Snarl is one of the major weapons against Perfect Propriety, aided by deliberately complicated customer service call center systems and, online, chat bots. But, the bigger the company, the less they have to care. Unfortunately. You might consider writing directly to the CEO by name, as the previous reader suggests.

Working Party Guests, Vol. 20, Issue 60

Dear Etiquetteer:

How much should a guest be asked to participate in preparing a host's place for a party, and how much should be asked of a guest when the evening is over? And then after that, as a guest, if I know that my host could use help to put a house back in order, should I offer to help (either at the end of the evening or the next day)?

Here's what happened. I attended a dinner party where, at the end of the evening, the host asked the guests to move his furniture back into its usual setup. It was not a small party, and quite a few tables and chairs were a part of the dinner setup. Other pieces of furniture also had to be moved. Some people asked me if this request might have been helping someone who needed assistance. But no, the host participates in various outdoor and athletic activities, and could have managed on his own. After all, the furniture was already in place for the dinner party when the guests arrived.

When I host, I'm not sure this would be something I could ask of my guests. I have co-hosted and have been a guest at parties where guests were invited to participate in some light preparation of the meal . . . with beverages and hors d'oeuvres, for instance. But I don't think I could ask my guests to move furniture at the end of a party when I would be able to do it myself. When I set my house to be a place for a party, I would like the guests to leave with the memory of how the house was set for a party. 

Dear Moved:

It's so frustrating, in matters of manners, to have to respond "It depends," but your situation falls into this Gray Area. It depends! It especially depends on how formal this dinner was*. If it was at all dressy -- suits and ties, for instances -- Etiquetteer can't call enlisting the company as stevedores Perfectly Proper. After a party, the warm glow suffusing your guests should be good feelings, not vigorous exertions. 

If this is a total dress-down affair, like a barbecue or a good old-fashioned clambake or some other brawl, and you're all the closest of friends who'd sacrifice anything for each other, then no, it's not out of place to help out when asked. 

All that said, Etiquetteer does have some compassion for your generous host. The energy of setting up for a party is very different from breaking it down. “Quite a few tables and chairs,” plus the usual furniture, sounds daunting to face at midnight after having put the whole thing together alone and then presided over a Grand Evening. If you offered to help that night, Etiquetteer is sure the host appreciated it; it’s not out of place. As for the next day . . . well, everyone’s habits are different, but you’d find Etiquetteer in bed until noon, in no condition to handle moving furniture**.

But as a general rule, Etiquetteer would rather not put the company to work, unless they ask. And even then, the best assignment is sometimes "Please be sure everyone's having a good time while I finish up in the kitchen."

*Personal note: Everyone thinks being an event planner is glamorous — china, crystal, linens, flowers! Oh no. It’s parking, restrooms, and moving furniture in your best clothes after midnight.

**Some years ago Etiquetteer hosted a birthday party for a friend and was surprised the next morning when the friend appeared bedside with a beautiful arrangement of flowers. Thankfully some kind soul brought in coffee shortly thereafter.

Reflections on How to Treat the Staff, Vol. 20, Issue 59

“If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch . . .”

— from “If,” by Rudyard Kipling

You never know what is going to make you think about a Matter of Manners. This time it was George III and a haughty upholsterer.

Edna Healey’s The Queen’s House: A Social History of Buckingham Palace includes an account of King George setting an example for a contractor. This made Etiquetteer pause to consider how we treat staff in this century. A workman’s ladder blocked access to a book the King wanted to read:

“. . . His Majesty desired Cobb [the upholsterer] to hand him the work. Instead of obeying, Cobb called to his man, ‘fellow, give me that book!’ The King with his usual condescension rose and asked Cobb for his man’s name. ‘Jenkins, Your Majesty,” answered the astonished upholsterer. ‘Then,’ observed the King, ‘Jenkins, You shall hand me that book*.’”

What an elegant and simple way to make the point that our common humanity needs to be acknowledged. Another came from playwright and ambassador Clare Boothe Luce, who surprised embassy staff with a champagne party after the Trieste Crisis of 1953-1954. “She threw a victory party that very night,” reports Letitia Baldrige in her down-to-earth memoir A Lady, First**. “She ordered the very best champagne and caviar and paid for it herself. The guests were not the top officials on the Italian or American sides but the embassy clerks and assistants in the Code Room, who had been working twenty-hour shifts for days . . . She toasted her guests, who had never seen the inside of [the ambassador’s residence] before, for their efficiency and their patriotism. (They would never forget that night.)”

So, for those of us not kings or ambassadors with unlimited budgets, how can these examples guide us in our own staff interactions? First, remembering names. People love to be remembered. You love it when people remember you. Take the time to learn the names of your baristas, your hair stylist (and the receptionist at the salon), your dry cleaner, the counter staff at your favorite bakery, etc. And when you do, do it in such a way that you don’t project that you feel obligated to ask or that you expect better service as a result.

Next, be kind, sympathize, and be as generous as you’re able. The pandemic has devastated the service industry, and we know that many businesses (especially restaurants) are still returning to earlier standards after such a long hiatus. Curb your impatience. We are still fighting the War Against the Coronavirus, and we’re still all in this together.

Lastly, don’t lash out at staff for problems they aren’t responsible for. We see this almost daily in the news regarding air travel, with flight attendants and other airline staff taking impossible levels of abuse from travelers enraged by either a) mask mandates or other pandemic restrictions, b) not-always-unavoidable travel delays, or c) complete, total, and utter absence of useful information from the airline. The airlines don’t make it easy for us, and Etiquetteer isn’t giving the company a free pass; send a factual, sternly-worded message to Corporate after your trip. But the staff on the ground aren’t responsible for the rules they have to enforce. You may need to blow off steam, but they shouldn’t bear the brunt of it.

Etiquetteer will be most interested to hear from you about your own experiences, as staff or customers, during the pandemic, and where you think more guidance is needed.

*John Thomas Smith, Nollekens and His Times: the Life of the Sculptor Joseph Nollekens, quoted in Edna Healey’s The Queen’s House: A Social History of Buckingham Palace, page 43.

**Etiquetteer refers to this wonderful book a lot, but it is a wonderful book, so it’s irresistible.

Dinner Party Dilemmas, Vol. 20, Issue 58

Last night before bed Etiquetteer was idly dreaming about hosting a dinner party again — it’s been such a long time! And then what would happen if someone in the party brought an unexpected date, and there were no more chairs in the dining room. And that person was allergic to something on the menu. And someone else’s placecard was misspelled. And so on. Like Alice, Etiquetteer was down the rabbit hole in an instant. It made for troubled sleep*.

Having a contingency plan for every problem helps you keep calm in the moment. Back in office days, a group of us would brainstorm solutions in a Worst Case Scenario exercise, looking at plans for specific events, sharing our worst fears about what could go wrong, and together determining the best way forward. Often that involved phoning someone, but when you’re a Team of One in your own home, it’s up to you. So let’s consider how to sail through some Dinner Party Dilemmas with Perfect Propriety.

PROBLEM: Someone brings a date without telling you, you need to set an extra place, and there are no more chairs.

SOLUTION: 1) Find a stool or ottoman of appropriate size or 1a) phone/text a neighbor and ask to borrow a chair, then send the guest who brought the extra person to get it while you 2) set the extra place at the table corner next to your place. The Unexpected Guest sits in the place of the person who brought them, and your Errant Guest sits in the extra place.

PROBLEM: Someone suddenly confesses a Previously Unrevealed Allergy to something on the menu.

SOLUTION: Improvise a substitute that works. The traditional solution is scrambled eggs. (For dessert it’s probably whatever cookies you have hiding in the pantry.)

PROBLEM: There is no substitute.

SOLUTION: “Oh, I’m so sorry, I wish I had known.” Try not to sound too acid when you say that. Offer a double helping of the next course. (The most Perfectly Proper thing for the guest to do is to take it in stride, but they don’t always, now do they?)

PROBLEM: Someone points out that their name is misspelled on their placecard. (It doesn’t matter that it’s not Perfectly Proper to do this, people have done it.)

SOLUTION: Have a pen near your stash of placecards in a dining room drawer and make out a new one then and there. Say cheerfully “I’m so glad I know now!”

PROBLEM: You break a glass before company arrives that’s part of a set, and there are no more left.

SOLUTION: Put another glass from whatever you have in the house at your place. If anyone asks about it (not Perfectly Proper), best to be truthful. “I had a whoopsie-doo moment earlier today.”

PROBLEM: Someone spills a great deal of red wine on the table and possibly on themselves and others.

SOLUTION: Immediately say “Oh, that’s all right dear!” and direct them to the bathroom if their clothes are in danger. Start pouring salt on the tablecloth to absorb the stain. Do not throw a pinch of salt over your shoulder for luck; it’s just a superstition.

PROBLEM: You serve coffee after dinner, someone asks for tea, and you’re only prepared for coffee.

SOLUTION: There’s always that one tea drinker, isn’t there? And they don’t like coffee and they want their tea. You can either 1) boil a hasty pot of water to make a quick pot of tea or 2) apologize for not being a tea drinker and not actually having any tea in the house. (If this is not strictly true, let’s hope that tea drinker never ends up rummaging in your pantry.)

This could go on and on, but perhaps you want to test Etiquetteer with your own Dinner Party Dilemma? Reach out and let Etiquetteer know!

*Personal note: I used to keep an I Wake Up Screaming list on the bedside table so that if anything bothered me in the night about an upcoming event, I could write it down to handle in the morning and then return to sleep . . . and the next thing to bother me.

Random Observations About Labels, Vol. 20, Issue 57

In the world of Perfect Propriety, no one is supposed to look at the labels. At least you’re not supposed to get caught doing it. The labels in question used to be china and ladies’ dresses, back when dresses were more elaborate and ladies (perhaps) more competitive about their clothes.

As to china, Etiquetteer was deeply scarred in college by an elderly friend of Dear Granny’s when accompanying her to a fashion show luncheon at the True Ritz-Carlton*. Hardly had she sat down at the table when she aggressively picked up the service plate to look at the trademark underneath. It was mortifying to see the waiter’s observation of this behavior, but when you are the guest, how can you remonstrate with your hostess?

In this century, the labels in question now usually concern food. As Science and Medicine have revealed to us how certain foods make susceptible people ill, so now more people with food-based illnesses are “asking how the pudding is made” and what goes into it. (Lizzie Post and Dan Post Senning provide excellent advice to a listener with celiac issues on the latest episode of their Awesome Etiquette podcast. Tune in.)

Hosts are wise to be sensitive to guests with serious medical issues. There’s nothing like the need for an ambulance to bring down a dinner party. To their recommendations, Etiquetteer would actually add the possibility of bringing your own refreshments. The late Gloria Swanson famously became a vegetarian in midlife and shared in her memoir Swanson on Swanson that, when invited to a dinner, she’d bring her own little sandwich and slip it to the butler on arrival. If you feel your own dietary needs are too extensive to expect your hosts to accommodate, alert them in advance that you plan to bring your own refreshments.

On a somewhat related note, since this is National CBD Day, in which those so inclined are invited to celebrate the wonders of hemp-derived cannabidiol and other cannabinoids, it’s essential to remember that any food you serve that contains cannabinoids needs to be labeled as such. If these are pre-purchased edibles, retain the original packaging. If you’ve prepared them yourself, make a little sign. Aside from Experienced Partakers who want to know what they’re getting into, it is a Very Naughty Thing and Not At All Perfectly Proper to get people high without them knowing it. Lizzie Post has some wonderful guidance on this subject in her groundbreaking book Higher Etiquette; you can read Etiquetteer’s review of it here.

*The hotel at the corner of Arlington and Newbury Streets in Boston, which from 1927-2006 was the Ritz-Carlton and is now the Newbury, will always be the True Ritz-Carlton.

Talking About Career Transition, Vol. 20, Issue 56

Dear Etiquetteer:

I've appreciated your advice on many occasions and now I need it again. I have found myself in somewhat of a pickle while conversing with friends, family, and others in between. You see, I am one of those people who recently quit a job, and, as a result, is currently unemployed. I was a tenure track professor and I decided to call it quits this past spring. While imagining the future in that setting, I realized that the anxiety, stress, overwork and minimal pay would continue no matter if the pandemic ended. I could continue with a litany of complaints, but my reluctance to appear a malcontent is why I'm contacting you. Let me give you an example of this pickle. I find myself in it too often.

When people learn I'm currently unemployed, they ask in quick succession “Why?” and “What will you do?” I don’t want to share my private struggles with most who ask, so I respond to the first with something like: "There were many reasons why working as a professor was not enjoyable or satisfactory to me. I don't want to bore you with the bureaucratic details, but I'm much happier not teaching at this time." To the second I answer "I am very happy spending time taking it easy and enjoying a slower pace to life. I'm not sure what the future holds, but there are many possibilities that I will consider after I take some time off."

I like to think these are "perfectly proper" responses, but I'm finding many keep poking and prodding to find out more. Can you recommend a response to those who want more? Perhaps a response that provides an appropriate segue into another topic of conversation? I've taken some opportunities to share with both academics and non-academics the problems of labor, pay, and teaching in university settings, but I'm not always in the mood to lecture (ahem) or gossip about my prior employer.

As always, your advice is greatly appreciated.

Dear Ex-Professor:

First, congratulations on your career transition! Etiquetteer wishes you fulfillment and security on whatever future path you choose.

The questions you’re getting aren’t unusual, nor is the persistence of your friends — or their inability to take a hint. Etiquetteer has suggested before that often all people really want to know is whether or not you were fired. But there’s a way out of this.

The pandemic has led millions of people to reconsider their job choices, either because their jobs have disappeared (think of the service industry, or the performing arts), because workplace conditions have changed, or because they’re finally asking themselves the Peggy Lee Question: “Is that all there is?” So, what could be more Perfectly Proper than to blame the pandemic? “The pandemic has really made me reevaluate what brings me [professional/creative/spiritual] satisfaction so I decided to make a bold move” works in almost every situation. “Leaving my position has freed up my time and my mind so that I can get back to what’s really important to me.”

Further inquiry can be met with “Oh, I still have a great deal of interest in [Insert Anything in Which You Actually Retain Interest, Professional or Not] and that’s taking up a lot of my time.” And if you aren’t, in fact, interested in anything, just say “Meditation.”

As a last resort, turn the tables on them and ask “Well now, tell me . . . if you were suddenly to walk away from your job, what would you be doing? That might inspire me in a different way. What would you like to spend more time on right now?” And if that fails, just give them a Mona Lisa smile, say “I’m so grateful for your interest,” and drift off to the bar.

Etiquetteer Reviews Effing Good Manners, Vol. 20, Issue 55

Is profanity necessary? Sometimes yes, profanity is necessary to make a point, which brings us to Simon Griffin’s latest book, F****** Good Manners. But his use of the F-word is far from rare — which is actually the point. And it does help to convey that you’d better start minding your blesséd* manners — now. Because the rest of us have had quite enough of your shenanigans, thank you.

Etiquette doesn’t change as much as all that — forks still go on the left, and we still need to treat each other courteously — but each generation needs to receive this Eternal Wisdom in its own voice. Emily Post, Lillian Eichler, Amy Vanderbilt, Judith Martin — these legendary writers** shared much the same information in unique voices that struck a chord. Now, with a muddy splat, Mr. Griffin has announced himself as the necessary etiquette writer for the 2020s.

But he is not sharing quite the same information as the Admirable Writers Who Came Before. You won’t find chapters on weddings or dinner parties in F****** Good Manners. Instead, delightfully, Mr. Griffin directs us to even more basic areas of civilization: public transportation, driving, public restrooms, neighborhoods, social media, and queuing.

That’s right, queuing. Mr. Griffin is based in Yorkshire, so for American readers the book is strongly flavored with Britain. References to “the shops,” Tesco, Piers Morgan, “footie,” the Highway Code, stag and hen dos, Hertfordshire, Martin Bayfield, and of course queuing, pop up like secret plums in a Christmas pudding. Like a cup of Bovril when you’re expecting tea, Etiquetteer rather hopes one of Mr. Griffin’s next projects might be a 21st-century update of Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey or Mansfield Park. Anglophiles will eat it up.

Mr. Griffin includes a chapter on good manners for the environment, perhaps a first for any etiquette book. “It’s there for all of us to enjoy, and just because a generation hasn’t yet been born, it doesn’t mean we should leave the place looking like the aftermath of a Kate Moss birthday party for them.” Bracing!

One final, essential difference: unlike earlier etiquette writers, Mr. Griffin owns up to his own bad behavior. He begins the acknowledgements “In the back of my mind has always been my own [Insert Expletive Here] behaviour, so perhaps my first acknowledgement should be to anyone who has been at the receiving end of my own bad manners over the years. Sorry for whatever it was I did, and thank you for your tolerance.” A gentleman knows how to admit his mistakes, and as the late Mrs. Wilkes said of Gerald O’Hara in Gone With the Wind, “He has a coarse tongue, but he is a gentleman.”

***

Now this is Robert talking. Reading this book resurfaced many lapses of Perfect Propriety from my past, my own and others, that have been both painful and piquant. It’s funny now to remember witnessing a set-to between a supermarket cashier repeatedly calling out a shopper who hadn’t read any of her coupons right. But I also flush with shame remembering a profane office tirade 30 years ago that was so visceral a colleague had to leave the room. Mercy, I interrupted someone on a video call last week and I am still fretting over it! F****** Good Manners served as a reminder to me that, it doesn’t matter how good you think your manners are, there is always room for improvement, and that what you do (or don’t do) has an impact on the people around you. Get this book, read it, wash your mouth out with soap afterward if you think that might help, but it’s a powerfully good book with strong guidance on your blesséd manners.

***

*Etiquetteer will often substitute “blesséd” for the F-word.

**Obviously an incomplete list. Please add the Legendary Etiquette Writer of Your Choice.

Reader Response, Art Isn't Easy, Vol. 20, Issue 54

Etiquetteer received some very interesting suggestions and comments from readers after the last column from the artist asking how to receive unsolicited negative criticism. There’s a lot of sympathy for artists out there!

From a connoisseur: Thank you for the posting on feedback to artists. Your response to the idiotic assertion to an artist that (presumably) she didn't create the work was just right. Don't engage, point to the door. I might tweak the response to the rude commenters. Rather than "Thank you" or "How interesting," which might be taken as positive by the critic, perhaps "I see" and walk away. Constructive criticism, or engagement, may be useful of course. But to someone who simply says "That's nasty," very little is owed, as you suggest. Artists, often sensitive souls, put themselves out before the public in a vulnerable way, to communicate what they believe are important messages; the least a critic can do is offer thoughtful, constructive criticism. [Emphasis Etiquetteer’s.] If they are not able to do so, then perhaps a murmured "how interesting" would be more perfectly proper.

From a gallerist:  In both my current career and in my previous career in video, I have had to learn how to provide feedback gently in a constructive manner. I have also had to learn to take criticism of my own [work]. I confess my first reaction to criticism is often defensive. After all, I have lived with the product for a long time and I think it’s good. After I take a deep breath, I usually find that the critique is valuable and I am able to improve. It’s not always easy.

I believe that your advice it right on target. Sometimes, people provide feedback that they think is helpful. Sometimes, people express their feedback in ways that may be more brutal thank the artist would like. Sometimes people can be nasty.

Recently a woman came in the gallery and looked around, and said something to the effect that most of the work in my gallery couldn’t be considered art. I thanked her for coming in and said that the wonderful thing about [Insert Name of Art-Oriented Destination Here] is that there are so many galleries to explore. And one time I had a family member’s work up, much of which was blue in a handmade paper series. Someone came in the gallery and said, “I hate blue.” I confess I was temporarily rendered speechless,  but I think I pointed out some artwork that was of a different color.

The nicer thing about galleries is that the audience, for the most part, is self-selective. They have to have a desire to experience art to want to come in, so they are predisposed to be open to new experiences. [Emphasis Etiquetteer’s.] I think that sometimes people can be inelegant in their feedback. They may think they are providing helpful feedback, but are saying it in a way that comes off as more offensive and not constructive. 

Most often, I encounter a person who says, “Now, this is an artist that I really like,” implying that they don’t like the other artists. But art is also an area where people’s tastes evolve. So, someone may be challenged by abstract art now… and may return in a few years and have acquired a love of it.

From an artist: Good column, and necessary for some artists and critics to read. I’m happy to say that this is a problem I’ve only rarely encountered. In fact, I can only remember two instances, both of which have firmly lodged in my memory. One of my cousins, upon seeing a Raoul Dufy-themed mural I painted, thought it looked “too cartoony.” And a novelist who saw my caricature of her in [Insert Name of Publication Here] declared she would “have my cojones on a stick” because I revealed her age. Come to think of it, that wasn’t art criticism, but editorial.

Art Isn't Easy, Vol. 20, Issue 53

"Art isn't easy." — Stephen Sondheim

"All response is valid." — Zippy the Pinhead (unverified)

Dear Etiquetteer:

Why do so many people think that they can tell an artist that they don't like their work, when the artist never asked for their opinion?

Why do so many people think it's perfectly acceptable to tell an artist that they should do something differently? If you like the art, appreciate it. If you want something specific from the artist, commission them. If you don't like the art, move along! Why do you need them to know you don't like it?

I guess a more practical way to ask this question is, how can an artist rebuff unsolicited critique in a public setting without coming off as just as rude as the person who feels entitled to express their unsolicited opinion? 

What can an artist do when a patron won't believe the artist is behind the work they see? This was a real thing that happened to me, the most sexist encounter of my life. 

Dear Artist:

Etiquetteer offers you sincere sympathy, having had to say "That's not what I meant" several times. It feels frustrating to receive criticism that blindly misses our intentions*.

But Art is created to be seen and to provoke a response. "Everyone's a critic," as the old saying goes, and there's no guarantee that viewers will see the same things an artist does in his or her work. Sometimes this is helpful to the artist, illuminating new interpretations and ideas. Often, when it's only "I don't like that" or "That's nasty!" it doesn't. And sometimes how people express themselves exposes what a limited idea they have of Art in the first place. The incomparable Ruth Draper satirized the type vigorously in her wonderful monologue “At an Art Exhibition.”

Responding in a Perfectly Proper way to unwanted criticism requires patience, but not prolonged engagement. Depending on your level of interest you can say as little as "Thank you" (add as much or as little ice to your tone as you please) or something noncommittal like "Hmm, yes, that would change the overall look of the piece." Etiquetteer thinks it wise to refrain from snark, such as asking "Then why are you even here?" or similar questions**. It never helps.

As to your final question, Etiquetteer cannot imagine anything more insulting to an artist than being told that they didn't create their own artwork. The only possible response Etiquetteer can think of is "Then we have nothing else to discuss. The door is over there." 

One final thought: it might be amusing, provocative, or something to mount a paper shredder on the wall near the door, with a wastebasket under it, and label it INSERT CRITICISM HERE. Provide a table with a little stack of cards and pencils . . . or not***. 

Etiquetteer will be most interested to hear from artists and gallerists about their own experiences with unwanted criticism.

*The corollary for public speakers is the completely off-topic question during the Q&A period.

**You’ll know exactly what to think depending on how they answer the question “What artists do you admire?”

***Oh dear, that’s not a Perfectly Proper suggestion at all.