Using the Good Stuff, Vol. 20, Issue 85

The winter holidays approach us quickly now, the Times of the Great Feasts, starting with Thanksgiving on November 25. For many this will be the first time to participate in a large gathering since the start of the pandemic in early 2020, which means a lot of hosts and hostesses will be unearthing the good stuff to celebrate. So after all this time, it’s worth mentioning a few things to guide the preparation.

Get started now. Truly, it will save you a lot of heartache if you know that you have what you need where you need it beforehand, so that you can respond with greater Perfect Propriety to the last-minute things that always happen. As Dear Mother used to say, “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”

Inventory what you have based on the number of people coming. While the Great Feasts in America are often a comfortable combination of formal tables and casual clothes, the table can’t be set too casually. Count each element of the your table settings — water and wine glasses, necessary china and silver for each course — so that each person has what they need. Assign chipped or otherwise damaged pieces to your place setting. It’s not unusual, and quite proper, to fill in from whatever you have in the house to accommodate all your guests. For these Great Feasts, everyone understands, and it isn’t as though it was a state dinner.

Polish the silver. Emily Post Herself always said “Have silver that shines or none at all!” And she meant business. Tarnished silver looks like it might not actually be clean, and you don’t want your company to feel they are dining at an unsanitary table. It’s best to bring out the silver a couple weeks in advance so you have plenty of time, if needed. But usually properly stored silver just needs a glance for reassurance, with only a few pieces in need of serious polishing.

Mitigate possible damage. Etiquetteer will back you up if you prefer to serve children on paper plates, etc. especially children under, say ten years of age. Table linens always seem to be most at risk during the Great Feasts. Along with childhood table manners, both red wine and cranberry sauce leave indelible memories on white damask. Etiquetteer has two possible solutions for Table Linen Protection. The first: put sheet glass over your tabletop. Admittedly this is an extreme solution with its own risks, but if Elsie de Wolfe could get away with it in the private dining rooms at the Colony Club, Etiquetteer sees no reason for us not to attempt it at home. The second solution is to put a placemat atop the tablecloth at each place setting. There are pros and cons to this, too, and traditionalists might start howling in rage that it’s even suggested. But Etiquetteer cannot find a specific prohibition against it any of the standard works, so if placemats will help you feel better about using an heirloom tablecloth, have at it. Just make sure everything coordinates.

Finally, accept that damage may happen. Etiquetteer can’t help but remember Hepzibah Pyncheon getting out the old Chinese teacups when cousin Phoebe came to visit*. “Your great-great-great-great-grandmother had these cups, when she was married,” said Hepzibah to Phœbe. “. . . They were almost the first teacups ever seen in the colony; and if one of them were to be broken, my heart would break with it. But it is nonsense to speak so about a brittle teacup, when I remember what my heart has gone through without breaking.” We all care about our Good Stuff, but really dahlings, life is for living. If someone breaks a glass or spills the entire gravy boat on the tablecloth, these are just sacrifices on the altar of Hospitality. And if you can’t accept the risk, then Etiquetteer can only consign you to “the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears**.”

Etiquetteer wishes you joy in the preparation, execution, and fellowship of whatever Great Feast might be in store for you.

*In Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven Gables, of course.

**From Kahlil Gibran’s “On Love” in The Prophet.

Post-Emergency Gratitude, Vol. 20, Issue 84

Dear Etiquetteer:

How does one thank a medical care team these days? I'm not sure what’s appropriate or welcome these days. Recently, I quite unexpectedly found myself in the hospital for a couple of days after a surprise emergency. The nursing staff took such good care of me; I want them to know how much I appreciate their kindness and patience.

Secondly, my neighbors have absolutely been amazing, the other half of my medical care team. This is just a short list; other neighbors have been just as wonderful.

• B brought me first to the emergency room and then to the hospital. She also served as “communications officer” for my other neighbor and my family. She picked me up when I was discharged and later that afternoon brought over three fully prepared dinners. Her career was in healthcare, and her help and advice have been invaluable.

• D brought me a lovely plant when I got home, cleaned up the mess I’d left in the kitchen while I was hospitalized, and has also brought more meals for me. If she’s going anywhere she checks in to see if I need anything from the store.

• G came yesterday with a small gift and another dinner, and dessert (!).

I realize the best repayment is to “pay it forward” and I have every intention of doing so. In the mean time I'd like to express my gratitude in a more tangible way to the hospital staff and everyone for everything they've done.

Dear Recovering:

First, let Etiquetteer rejoice at your salvation from medical distress, and wish you the most Perfectly Proper recovery.

Paying it forward to others is indeed a Perfectly Proper thing to do, but so is paying it back; these two forms of Gratitude are not mutually exclusive. And especially since the coronavirus pandemic has strained medical staff worldwide, that’s a community that really needs to feel personal appreciation right now.

A Lovely Note is always heartfelt and Perfectly Proper, but if handwriting is too taxing at this early stage of your recovery, then you must be content to share your thanks verbally, or ask someone to take dictation for you. For your medical team, however, Etiquetteer definitely wants to suggest gifts of edible treats that can be shared in the break room or nursing station, with a note that can be tacked onto the bulletin board. Whether you send a big hamper of gourmet snacks, a sheet cake, chocolates, or big boxes of fresh doughnuts, they will be appreciated. Depending on the number, you might want to do individual gifts — but be sure no one has been left out*. As important is a Glowing Letter of Gratitude sent to the hospital CEO or other leader. You’ll find additional suggestions from the pros at Nursing Home Volunteer.

Your neighbors sound absolutely wonderful! Etiquetteer suspects you know each of them well enough to know what kinds of things they like, whether books or plants or foodstuffs. Otherwise, flowers are always Perfectly Proper, and an arrangement from your local florist would be a treat that few people ever order for themselves.

Etiquetteer wishes you well as you pay it back and forward, and to the continuance of your good health.

*When Dear Father was living in residential nursing care, Dear Mother would prepare individual little gifts for every member of the staff who worked with him — but she was there every day for months and knew them all. Your hospital stay may have kept you from meeting all the staff involved in your care.

Gift Giving, Vol. 20, Issue 83

Dear Etiquetteer:

I have been exchanging Christmas gifts with a friend for many years. In recent years this person has started to give much more expensive gifts and I feel that I have to reciprocate with a gift of the same value. I’m really not comfortable having this trend of increasingly expensive gifts continue.

Is there a polite way to suggest that we place a cap on the cost of gifts we exchange? Or will I just sound ungrateful?

Dear Gifted:

Your query certainly does bring fresh meaning to the old phrase “Oh darling, you shouldn’t have.” Sometimes it feels like a Competitive Edge can creep into the Joy of Exchanging Holiday Gifts with Loved Ones, especially when the difference in value becomes too great. Etiquetteer doesn’t immediately believe that more extravagant gift-givers are trying to show off or one-up their recipients. It’s quite possible they found something perfect for you that just cost a little more, or that Circumstances Unknown enabled them to be more generous.

But first of all, it is not, and never has been — no matter what anyone tells you — necessary to reciprocate with a gift of equal or greater value. You don’t even have to reciprocate with a gift! People forget this. All that’s strictly necessary is Written Thanks, preferably in the form of a Lovely Note. Don’t allow your friend’s Gifts of Greater Value to make you feel that your gifts are Less Than.

There are few different paths you can take:

• Maintain the status quo, say nothing, send a Lovely Note of Thanks, and allow your own discomfort to fester.

• Talk frankly with your friend about how much you have appreciated exchanging gifts all these years, but that you value your friendship more than any expensive gift. Suggest that you emphasize the greater value of your emotional bond with gifts that are less expensive.

• Suggest that you’re really moving away from gift-giving altogether and call a halt to your yearslong tradition.

Now obviously Etiquetteer prefers the second approach, but as you yourself recognize, it needs to be made in a way that does express gratitude for previous Gifts of Greater Value. You should be careful, too, not to devalue your own gifts, because this isn’t a comparison. The message you want to get across is not “I’m embarrassed that my gifts cost less than yours” but “Let’s celebrate our friendship more lightly.” You can then “open the bidding” with a suggested dollar amount; expect to negotiate this.

One possible way to reinforce an inexpensive gift’s true value is to share that you still value it. Etiquetteer has received Gifts of Nominal Value from dear friends — a small box, a letter opener, a garlic press, a pair of novelty socks, a handmade Christmas ornament, to give only a few examples — that have brought years of Joy far beyond whatever was paid for them. At a different time, you can bring up that you still use [Insert Previous Gift of Nominal Value Here] and always associate it happily with your friend.

Etiquetteer wishes you and your friend a stronger exchange of happiness this holiday season.

Visually Impaired Students Respond, Vol. 20, Issue 82

Etiquetteer yields the floor today to the Educator who asked about Hallowe’en challenges for the visually impaired, and the students she engaged in expanding on Etiquetteer’s advice. Etiquetteer had no idea there was a difference between getting pranked and getting punked. Read on for an enlightening perspective.

Dear Etiquetteer: 

Thank you so much for answering my student's questions about Halloween challenges in your recent column. With their permission, I would like to share with you their thoughts. My lessons/self-advocacy coaching sessions were with a fourth grader, two middle schoolers, and a high school senior. 

Every one of these students made it a point to first commend you for writing in a respectful and understanding manner regarding their vision. They commented that sometimes people think they are conveying understanding when, in fact, they are “talking down” to people in different situations. My students were especially appreciative of you not talking around the fact that, yes, they can’t see, and that makes them vulnerable, and yes, it is OK to talk about that. 

The fourth grader thought the plan to turn the joke back on the trickster was a great idea. We rehearsed “things to say” a la Cyrano de Bergerac. It was great fun. The parent called me later to tell me they were entertained and comforted by additional rehearsals the student presented in the car ride home. 

The middle schoolers and the senior all felt your suggestions were “solid.” But they all also chided me because they felt the way I worded the question made it seem like they were “really wrecked” by the pranking. When I asked them to explain, they said “It’s not like we are talking about getting punked.” And that got to the crux of the issue about bullying.

My older students and I were unable to determine if it is generational, geographical (we are in the Deep South), or cultural, but we all differentiate between getting pranked and getting punked. The middle schoolers defined a prank as a joke that is meant to be funny to everyone, especially the target [emphasis Etiquetteer's]. They said it should not cause any damage or hurt anyone. The example they gave was wrapping each individual thing on someone’s desk in paper and bows to celebrate a birthday. Yes, some inconvenience, but no permanent damage. The senior had the most concise explanation of being “punked.” “Punking is when you play a trick so someone feels bad on purpose and then everybody else laughs at them. Punking someone is really mean.” All expressed that a prank lets you know people like you and being punked tells you that you are not part of the group. 

I pressed this distinction further and asked if it was ever OK to punk someone. The senior said “Yes, sometimes that is the only way to stop them from hurting others.” They gave the example of punking a criminal with a fake contest win location that was actually where they got arrested when they showed up. 

I asked the middle schoolers and the senior what happens when someone thinks they are pranking you, but they are hurting you. All three said that you have to tell people when they go to far. [Emphasis Etiquetteer’s.] “People can’t read your mind. You have to stand up for yourself and let people know when they are uncool. If they do it again, then you know you are not friends.” All three students suggested the best course of action was to not waste time on people who are proven not to be friends. 

Which brings us to wisdom that the senior offered to people who have had so many bad experiences. She expressed empathy and said that it can be hard when you have so many bad things happen. But, she said you can’t judge everyone the same, especially new people in your life. “You have to give people a chance to share their type of humor and friendstyle. And then you have to share yours back so you can understand each other's boundaries. People make mistakes.”

I never cease to be amazed at recent generations of young adults. They are so much more self aware than I was at the same stage of life. I wish everyone could have interactions like I do with these fresh minds. The world may be all topsy turvy, but I really do think the kids, and subsequently Halloween, are all right. 

May your Halloween be fun!

Etiquetteer responds:

Thank you very much for this thoughtful expansion of the original column. It proves that we all have more to learn every day, no matter how old, and that almost every issue has facets not always visible. The difference between getting pranked and punked, for instance, Etiquetteer would never even have conceived. As Flora Robson so memorably said in Fire Over England, “Thus we learn.”

Your students rightly observe that “you have to tell people when they go to far.” But what happens when you do communicate that and nothing changes? What happens when you share this with teachers, counselors, parents — the Adults in the Room — and don’t get support, and nothing changes? Quite possibly the worst advice Young Etiquetteer ever got from a Responsible Adult was “If they knew better, they’d do better.” This defines Cold Comfort because it excuses the behavior of the bullies without doing anything to stop it.

There are no guaranteed solutions, especially when bullying is permitted or encouraged. Continued advocacy and communication are the tools we have. We need to keep using them.

And with that, Etiquetteer would like to wish you all a safe, happy, and Perfectly Proper Hallowe’en!

Taking a Pass on Hallowe'en, Vol. 20, Issue 81

This second COVID Hallowe’en is giving a few people pause about how much revelry they really want to include, and Etiquetteer is here to tell you that it’s Perfectly Proper and Absolutely Acceptable to turn down all those party invitations and just stay home if you prefer.

A reader reached out to share some hesitation about traveling to a Destination Famous for Seasonal Revelry this Hallowe’en weekend. “I’m trying not to be a Debbie Downer,” this message began, before expressing a lot of anxiety about overcrowded venues, lots of costume masks without COVID masks, and alcohol leading to poor choices. “I can’t bring myself to be OK with that.”

And do you know how Etiquetteer responded? “That’s not being Debbie Downer, that’s being Wendy Wise.” The pandemic is not over, and many people are just not ready to plunge back into Before Times Behavior. This is also an important reminder that there’s more than one way to observe a holiday. Hallowe’en with four people telling ghost stories and/or fortunes in a room lit only by candles is no less Perfectly Proper than a masked ball for hundreds. Don’t let the dreaded FOMO* Monster haunt your Hallowe’en! However you choose to spend it is absolutely right. Don’t feel lessened because your choice isn’t for something else.

If you are planning a more intimate at-home Hallowe’en, take the time to decorate. You don’t have to go full-on Mamie Eisenhower and stuff towers of cornstalks and skeletons in every corner and so on if that’s not your thing. But candlelight, besides throwing spooky shadows, makes everyone look more beautiful. And jack o’lanterns, plain old pumpkins, scatterings of candy corn, and the colors red, orange, and black, create a Perfectly Festive Atmosphere.

Etiquetteer wishes you a beautiful and Perfectly Proper Hallowe’en fighting off the FOMO Monster.

*Fear of Missing Out.

Hallowe'en for the Visually Impaired, Vol. 20, Issue 80

Dear Etiquetteer:

I enjoy your blog and Instagram feed very much. It has been the source of numerous inspirations for lesson plans for my students. In anticipation of October activities, I have questions about perfectly proper deportment for Halloween. I work with visually impaired students, and I need to know how to make Halloween easier for them, because pranks can get out of hand.

How does one mitigate unwelcome relaxation of etiquette for supposed humorous tricks? My students often get "jump scare" pranks directed at them by otherwise caring friends and family members at community events or family gatherings. It is perceived that they are easy to sneak up on and get big reactions from due to compromised sight. Younger people usually get a pass at being visibly upset. But the young adults I work with are called poor sports when they voice objections to being prank targets. 

How should one decline a treat? These young adults also are navigating their first "grown-up" social occasions and are leary of being offered confections which are not easily identifiable, and therefore are possible prank situations. Typically, their struggle is choosing between becoming vulnerable to a trick versus offending the host by rejecting what they have prepared. 

Additionally, they worry about polite ways to ask costumed revelers to identify themselves as festive attire often makes for hidden identities from the perspective of people used to relying on generalized cues such as silhouettes or profiles and signature accessories. I have explained that these are concerns for many people and are part of navigating the overall Halloween experience. 

These specific scenarios seem to be annual concerns for each group of high school seniors I work with. 

Dear Educator:

Etiquetteer cannot even pretend to have your experience working with the visually impaired, and was going to turn to the experts for Chapter and Verse on this subject. But the Hallowe’en pages at Perkins School for the Blind, Society for the Blind, and Braille Works are geared toward much younger children and trick-or-treating, and not teens, young adults, and parties. So, let’s break some ground together!

By design, Hallowe’en makes the familiar unfamiliar and a bit sinister. Part of its celebration is to revel in scaring and being scared. And that's one thing if you have all your faculties to begin with, but quite another if your eyesight or mobility is compromised. So the first thing we need to establish is quite clear: it’s not good sportsmanship to prank someone who can’t respond in kind. The visually impaired have far less ability to sneak up on the rest of us and yell “Boo!” or put a bug in our drinks.

The question really is how to turn a disadvantage, vision impairment, into a strength. And the way to do that is with Laughter and Gentle Mockery. How would it be if, after having been pranked, they remarked “Oh, my disguise must be really good this year! You didn’t know it was me and that I wouldn’t be able to prank you back” or “Oh, no fair! I’m no challenge. You need to try that on someone else who can really come back at you.” These responses need to be kept light, and delivered with some laughter, because as you point out, it’s easy to get tagged as a spoilsport*. More importantly, this moves the focus from the pranked being frightened to the prankster making a cowardly choice. Yes, this does require keeping your wits about you, which Etiquetteer admits is a challenge.

When offered refreshments, your students might ask what’s in it, and even explain candidly (depending on their trust level) “Hallowe’en throws off all my visual cues. I can’t quite make out what it is.” A cookie shaped like a spider usually is not made with spiders, etc. On the very rare chance that they do end up with a prank treat, the key is not to over-react — because that’s what the pranksters want. Remove it from your mouth — restrain any urge to spit it at them — and respond as good-naturedly as possible “Oh, it’s easy to fool me. I hope you have better luck with someone who can really tell what they’re getting into.” This should instill a healthy sense of guilt into the prankster — but again, it needs to be kept light.

The playing field is perhaps more level where disguise is concerned, as even a simple mask can throw off someone with the keenest eyesight. Etiquetteer got through an entire office Hallowe’en party once without realizing that the “corrections officer” he was talking to was really the woman who sat two cubicles away. The point of a disguise is to fool everyone, not only the visually impaired. But at most traditional Hallowe’en parties, there comes a time of unmasking**, and after that Etiquetteer would think it Perfectly Proper for your students to ask “The time has come, and you’re going to have to help me figure out who you are.”

Otherwise — and this is Perfectly Proper for everyone — don’t badmouth anybody, because they, or their closest friends, could be disguised within earshot. Etiquetteer considers mild flirtation permissible, but the emphasis is on mild. And finally, just as young children are encouraged to trick-or-treat in groups, your students might head to parties in a group — perhaps even in a themed costume*** — to be supportive in case someone does get pranked.

Etiquetteer wishes you and your students a safe, fun, and Perfectly Proper Hallowe’en!

*Also unjust, but there you are.

**Midnight is traditional, but not all parties go that long, and there are Those People who just don’t want to wear a mask to begin with who take it off five minutes after arriving.

***Many years ago Etiquetteer and eight friends went as the Hollywood sign to a costume party, which just involved tuxedos and large Styrofoam letters. Simple and easy.

Etiquetteer Reviews What Have We Here?, Vol. 20, Issue 79

Necessity may be the mother of Invention, but Fashion is often the wanton mother of Necessity. That’s how we end up with so much stuff. How many of us have rummaged through a drawer at Grandmother’s house, come across some bizarre silver doodad and asked “What on earth is this?” Maura J. Graber has lovingly compiled many of the answers in her new book What Have We Here? using oddities from her own extensive silver collection. Anyone interested in Victorian dinner parties will want to give this a look.

Nineteenth-century silversmithing innovations and middle-class aspirations brought highly specific service pieces, from bonbon spoons with wide, pierced bowls, to long narrow marrow spoons for bone marrow. Mrs. Graber lobs these at us, and much more: mote spoons for afternoon tea, macaroni servers with short wide tines, three-tined corn forks, enormous bread forks like Neptune’s trident, sugar sifters, butter servers with shark-like tines, and on and on. The most unusual, a manche a gigot, is a French fork used to steady a leg of lamb while carving. One has to wonder why an ordinary carving fork wouldn’t work as well.

We think of the Victorian era as being very solid and forthright, and yet its fashions changed — albeit slower than ours. Tableware “fashion victims” Mrs. Graber shares with us include the celery vase (the vogue for only 20 years), special asparagus plates, when that estimable vegetable was more honored than today, and silver orange cups for breakfast service of halved oranges.

Odd bits of china also come up for inspection and interpretation, including the once-fashionable crescent side plate. This 19th-century innovation got started in England to keep the salad separate from the meat (whether roast or game), but eventually also got used for salad or bread and butter. China terrapin pots have their own lids because turtle soup had to be served very hot. (Etiquetteer wrote about turtle soup earlier in Volume 20.) Etiquetteer had never heard of a “true trio set,” a saucer that came with both a teacup and a larger coffee cup — so that only one saucer was needed.

To Etiquetteer’s delight, Mrs. Graber includes a couple pages on mustache cups. Fashion decreed exuberant facial hair for gentlemen Back in the Day, which resulted in tea and coffee cups with built-in guards to protect them from liquids. Her collection includes a lot more mustache gear, from spoons (“noiseless soup spoons”), tiny mustache combs, a curler (like a very small curling iron), and even — Etiquetteer just could not believe this — little silver mustache clips for a gent to keep his facial hair completely out of his dinner! But Etiquetteer can’t conceive of this being Perfectly Proper when dining out; it would be like a lady leaving the house with her hair in curlers.

Throughout the book are sprinkled period (and current) bits of manners and trivia, but Mrs. Graber’s “napkin burrito” is worth special mention. In a brief section on glove etiquette, she revisits Emily Post’s advice to ladies at dinner on how to secure gloves, bag, and fan on their laps so that they wouldn’t slip to the floor. Etiquetteer considers identifying this as a burrito a colorful bit of genius . . . but it still leaves the problem of not being able to use your napkin as a napkin.

Etiquetteer takes mild issue with the frequent use of “spork” in What Have We Here? because it’s not of the era. While today we describe spoons with tines as sporks, the word spork really did not come into common usage until the 1970s, decades after these items were invented. The utensil identified as a spork with the terrapin pot is properly a terrapin fork, though it is decidedly sporkish.

Reading this book is like rummaging through the dining room with a favorite neighbor, and all that’s needed is a good hot chocolate (served in a trembleuse) and a dish of bonbons (with bonbon spoon). Certainly when you get to the last page, you’ll want to say “I can’t wait til we do this again!” It’s a wonderful addition to an etiquette library.

Liqueurs, Vol. 20, Issue 78

““Gabrielle has a cognac so old and precious that we keep it locked in a cabinet behind the piano.”

— from The Old Beauty, by Willa Cather

Since yesterday was National Liqueur Day, it makes sense to review the Perfectly Proper service of after-dinner liqueurs.

After a mid-century formal dinner, coffee, cigarettes, and liqueurs would all have been passed at the same time, coffee first — to the ladies in the drawing room, and to the gentlemen wherever they ended up: smoking room, study, or back in the dining room. Emily Post segregated beverages as well as genders. She noted that port and “especially fine cognac” would be served only to the gentlemen*, while the ladies would be offered no more than three liqueurs, decanted into small decanters on a tray with rows of little glasses. Mrs. Post suggested “The fashionable list includes cognac always, and two others: Chartreuse and Benedictine, or kümmel or green mint, or Cointreau.”

Millicent Fenwick is actually more helpful in her Vogue’s Book of Etiquette from 1948. While she notes that informal dinners don’t often include liqueurs, at formal dinners “they follow the coffee almost as inevitably as the coffee follows the dinner itself.” She notes that liqueurs might be served from their own bottles and not from decanters, but her list includes only five: brandy, crème de menthe**, Cointreau, Chartreuse, and “fruit brandies,” noting that cherry and apricot brandy were most popular. Please note that the glasses are not brought in pre-poured. Whoever is serving (the butler, or more likely the host now) pours after asking the guest’s choice.

In this century Etiquetteer doesn’t think we have to be quite so rigid in our choices, and yet it’s still a good idea not to offer more than two or three, and to consider only liqueurs that aren’t known mostly as cocktail ingredients. For instance, green crème de menthe is a traditional after-dinner liqueur, but blue Curaçao belongs only in the blender or a pousse-café.

Etiquetteer would suggest choosing two or three of the following for your after-dinner service: Averna, Benedictine, Chambord (a personal favorite), Chartreuse (green or yellow), cherry heering, Cointreau, crème de menthe (of course, but you’ll need to have shaved ice for the liqueur glasses), Drambuie, Fernet Branca, Frangelico, Grand Marnier, limoncello (especially if homemade), maraschino, and Sambuca (but only if you serve with three coffee beans.) Anything defined as a digestif may be served with Perfect Propriety as a liqueur. Etiquetteer discovered Becherovka while traveling and offers it from time to time.

But some liqueurs are best enjoyed as components of other beverages and not by themselves after dinner, at least in Etiquetteer’s opinion: absinthe (more an apértif), Aperol, any coffee liqueur (since coffee is also being served, unless Kahlua served in the coffee), crème de banana, crème de cacao, crème de cassis (really an apértif, and more often found in a Perfectly Proper kir with white wine), crème de coconut, crème de noyaux, crème de violette, Jagermeister***, Midori (the 1980s are over!), sloe gin, triple sec, etc. Basically, if you can’t imagine drinking it by itself, don’t serve it as a liqueur. A fairly comprehensive liqueur list may be found here at the Spruce Eats.

Etiquetteer’s list must inevitably conclude with possibly the most famous liqueur reference of the 20th century, Southern Comfort. Blanche DuBois correctly identified it as a liqueur (for all the good it did her, poor darling****), but you might say that Janis Joplin’s ahem open enjoyment of SoCo left it ahem not suitable for occasions demanding Perfect Propriety. When you have to drive your Chevy to the levee, pick up a bottle and drive responsibly.

But back to our formal dinner. Liqueurs are served in small glasses, but that doesn’t mean they should be tossed off in one snort. Savor them sip by sip. If you aren’t offered something you prefer, the correct response is “No thank you,” not “Do you have something else?”

And with that, allow Etiquetteer to wish you a beautiful, beautiful little dinner.

Janis Joplin hoisting her favorite liqueur. As Edward G. Robinson said in Double Indemnity, “Margie . . . I’ll bet she drinks from the bottle.”

*Fanny, the narrator of Nancy Mitford’s delightful Love in a Cold Climate, noted with chagrin that “the one good item of the whole menu, excellent vintage port,” was served to the gentlemen only after the ladies had retired. Etiquetteer calls this unjust to the ladies.

**The elderly Southern ladies of Etiquetteer’s childhood always had a bottle of green crème de menthe hidden away to serve over vanilla ice cream. Often there would be a bottle of Taylor sherry next to it . . . not to serve over vanilla ice cream.

***Although Jagermeister is a digestif, when Etiquetteer was much younger and in somewhat more scandalous company, Etiquetteer took a Jagermeister belly shot and never quite recovered from the experience. Let’s just call this a personal preference.

****In this famous clip, Vivien Leigh says “Southern Cheer,” but that is undoubtedly to avoid copyright or something tedious. The original script by Tennessee Williams definitely said “Southern Comfort.”

Random Issues, Vol. 20, Issue 77

Dear Etiquetteer:

When do you offer to have something cleaned because you've spilled and when do you just apologize profusely?

Dear Etiquetteer:

This . . . this is a painful query, because Etiquetteer once, all too memorably, spilled a great deal of red wine all over a lady’s ice blue satin pantsuit. (You may read about that here.) That it occurred near the end of intermission at a theatre only heightened the tension. In the confusion, Etiquetteer surely said “I am SO SORRY! Please send the bill to me!” But you may be sure that the next day Etiquetteer had a dozen roses delivered — wine red, of course. (Is it worse, or better, to spill on someone you already know? Etiquetteer is not quite sure. This experience was humiliating in the extreme.)

So there are degrees of magnitude. If you spill a bit of red wine on a white tablecloth and immediately cover it with salt (the Perfectly Proper solution), no offer to dry clean need be forthcoming. Etiquetteer thinks of table linen damage as the Price of a Good Time for the hosts. Spilling a full plate of lasagna or guacamole or cheese dip on the carpet, however, requires remuneration. But since it is also extremely rare for the schlimazel* actually to send a bill, flowers or a Thoughtful Gift with a Perfectly Proper Lovely Note of Contrition should follow the very next day.

Dear Etiquetteer:

I have to sound off about being polite when it comes to your food sensitivities. I'm in [Insert State in the Pacific Northwest Here]. Everybody's got some food they can't or won't eat (gluten, dairy, sugar, meat, etc.). Mine is garlic. I don't go into anaphylactic shock but it makes me very ill, usually at 1:30 AM. I don't make a big deal about it unless it's someone I know very well. But I've seen people who seem to get angry or those who look and act so hurt that they have nothing to eat because the host didn't telepathically know about their food issues. 

If I'm not sure about the menu I eat before I go so that I'm not starving. If I can ask in advance and they're serving the Feast of the Twelve Fishes in garlic sauce, I decline the invitation. 

Friends of mine host a Christmas gathering every year and they had a guest insist she must have gluten free food. They spent extra money and time making sure she had something to eat, and then she didn't even attend. In my training, I learned the trick of pushing your food around the plate to make it look like you've eaten. You just have to make sure no one notices.

Dear Gustatory Again:

It's great that medical science has kept people from dying by learning more about food allergies. Etiquetteer has a lot of compassion for those who must be extra-rigorous about what they do (and don't) consume, because that level of vigilance must wear a person down. 

But this new knowledge has led a few bad apples to consider the world their restaurant where they can order what they want, and how to prepare it, with impunity. People forget that private hospitality is extended (and accepted) for the pleasure of one's company first. The refreshments are incidental. Yes, of course it's disappointing to be invited for a meal and not be able to eat it, but the meal is only the framework for the real purpose, connection and conversation.

What’s the most Perfectly Proper response when invited to a dinner you can’t eat? Grin, bear it, and keep on talking. Ellen Maury Slayden remembered inviting a Senator and his wife to a dinner at home that turned out to be inedible because the cook was having a bad night and the butler used paraffin on the salad instead of salad oil. Oopsie! But the Senator “stayed him with flagons and comforted him with salted almonds**” and kept telling amusing stories that Mrs. Slayden said “diverted me from my humiliation.***” What could be more Perfectly Proper? Etiquetteer feels sure the Senator and his wife managed to find something to eat at home later.

The non-appearance of your friends' Insistent Gluten-Free Guest dismays Etiquetteer. Unfortunately this gives a bad rep to Responsible Gluten-Free Guests who do show up after making their needs known. The word "insist" is what dismays Etiquetteer most. If you aren't even going to come, why make such a fuss? That person would not be invited back to Etiquetteer's house, you may be sure.

The Perfectly Proper language, by the way, if pressed on why you are declining a dish (and it's rude to ask why to begin with), is to say only "It disagrees with me" or, in extreme instances, "It disagrees with me violently. I'd rather not go into detail." No one really wants to know about what happens at 1:30 AM after a garlicked entrée. 

Etiquetteer wishes you a Perfectly Proper and Perfectly Palatable evening.

*Remember, it’s the schlemiel who spills the chicken soup, and the schlimazel on whom the chicken soup is spilt.

**Mrs. Slayden was paraphrasing Song of Solomon 2:5, “Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples . . . “ Note that this was in the era when nut dishes were common on formal dinner tables.

***Washington Wife: The Journal of Ellen Maury Slayden 1897-1919, edited by Walter Prescott Webb

Notes on Handbags, Vol. 20, Issue 76

If it’s October 10, that means it’s National Handbag Day, which Etiquetteer loves to observe with Edith Evans as Lady Bracknell. She, even more than Miss Prism, knew the value of a good, sturdy handbag, as well as its proper place. That might have been a coat tree, but it was never a family tree.

A Perfectly Proper handbag should be carried in such a way that it doesn’t get in anyone else’s way. That means holding it so that it remains parallel to your body, not perpendicular*. If you’re carrying it in your hand, that means just carrying it, not swinging it back and forth like Maria’s hamper in The Sound of Music. If you’re going to carry it on your elbow, that means inserting your arm through the handles from the outside in to keep your handbag close to you. Or from the inside out. Etiquetteer has tested out both methods with available tote bags, and it seems to depend on the handles. Most frustrating.

Lana Del Rey demonstrates the Perfectly Proper way to carry a handbag on one’s elbow.

A Perfectly Proper handbag can take you anywhere, but once you’re there, you can’t just put it down anywhere. Especially tabletops, whether in restaurants or conference rooms. If you need to get something from it, place it in your lap. Candace Smith over at Candace Smith Etiquette has even more ideas about where to position your handbag.

Organize the inside so you can get what you need with a minimum of fuss. Etiquetteer will never forget an opera performance at which a nearby woman spent most of the second act unzipping every secret pocket in her purse looking for a breath mint. That she was wearing more bangle bracelets than the entire chorus only contributed to the distraction.

Once upon a time there used to be wicker handbags for summer (brought out with the white shoes at Memorial Day), straw handbags acquired on tropical vacations, and luxurious leather handbags for day wear. Alligator bags always rank at the top of the Daytime Handbag Pyramid, but they need to turn into pumpkins at 5:00 PM. Alligators are not nighttime creatures.

Dear Grandmother’s evening bags from the 1920s.

Evening bags, of course, are much smaller and much showier. Originally they weren’t supposed to hold more than a lady’s handkerchief, house key, compact, lipstick, and “mad money.” It’s none of Etiquetteer’s business what a lady carries in her handbag day or night, though Etiquetteer understands that those small packets of paper tissues are often necessary. But since so many concert venues and other public places require people to empty out their bags on arrival, just be sure you aren’t carrying anything you wouldn’t want everyone to see.

The best advice about handbags Etiquetteer has been able to find, believe it or not, is from Polonius in Hamlet: “Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy.” Or, as that gnomish woman said in Unzipped in the 1990s, “Fussy, finished!” In other words, don’t stint on quality, get the best materials and workmanship you can afford, and don’t overdo it. Grace Kelly inspired perhaps the most classic handbag of the 20th century, followed closely by Jane Birkin. You can learn more about the Kelly Bag, the Birkin Bag, and other famous handbags here.

And if you’re in the mood for a new handbag but there’s just not a budget for it, tie a scarf onto the handle à la Babe Paley. What could be more Perfectly Proper?

*When you hold a handbag, you should be parallel. When you hold the floor, you should be perpendicular.

Crustaceans and Other Foods, Vol. 20, Issue 75

Dear Etiquetteer:

As someone who loves to cook it surprises me when I encounter people who don't know how to prep or eat certain foods. I watched a coworker try to peel an entire avocado before cutting it in half. (In case you didn't know avocados are much too slippery to peel first and then try to cut) I'm sure there are many who would be completely lost if presented with an entire steamed artichoke, or a soft boiled egg in a cup. (In theory, I know how to eat a soft boiled egg but I've never actually done it.) Same for crustaceans and whole fish.

So I guess my question is, what do you do when presented with unfamiliar foods?

Dear Gustatory:

We learn through experience, and we can't experience what we have yet to encounter. So Etiquetteer encourages you to be compassionate with those who don't yet have your breadth of food experience. They'll get there! 

Your query immediately brought to mind poor Julia Roberts in Mystic Pizza*, encountering a full-on lobster at her very first dinner at the home of her boyfriend's parents, with no idea what to do. Her earlier scorn of lobster came back to haunt her! (Etiquetteer prefers not to have to combat a meal, and very much prefers lobster Newburg to the traditional New England lobster served whole.) Etiquetteer wrote about artichokes way back in Volume 1.

Soft-boiled eggs fell out of fashion at some point in the last 60 years; Etiquetteer has never witnessed them in daily life. But it used to be quite a bit of breakfast showmanship to slice off the top of a soft-boiled egg, served in an egg cup. The late Louis XV -- he of "Aprés-moi, le deluge" -- used to be famed for his ability to thwack off the top of his egg with one stroke of his knife. From personal experience, Etiquetteer can report that it's not that simple, and look out for tiny shards of eggshell. All that remains now of  the "three-" or "four-minute egg" is the china egg cup. Etiquetteer uses Dear Grandmother's with the coffee service for artificial sweetener packets.

When you have no idea how to eat what's put before you, take your time and observe how everyone else is managing-- "see how folks do," as Willa Cather once said. And if you get something in your mouth that shouldn't be there, like a bit of eggshell or fishbone, subtly transfer it into your hand and park it in your napkin or someplace inconspicuous on the edge of your plate. And bon appétit!

Dear Etiquetteer:

Shrimp tails. What do you do with the inedible tails?

Dear Tailed:

As Marty Feldman so memorably said in Young Frankenstein, "Say nothing. Act casual." And really, that's Perfectly Proper advice for almost any occasion, is it not?

For the record, let Etiquetteer proclaim a preference against tail-on shrimp in every circumstance. Perhaps the only reasons the tails are left on is to save labor in the kitchen. This interesting piece from The Takeout suggests that it could be that, or interest in having a handle to grasp the shrimp. But lots of foods aren't born with handles. Please, let's just strip our shrimp fully and serve. So much easier all around.

Shrimp tails, if you do encounter them, must be disposed of discreetly. That depends on how they're served. If you're standing around at a cocktail party and offered a tray of shrimp cocktail, you may a) leave the tail on your little cocktail plate, b) tuck it out of the way under a centerpiece on a table (don’t get caught!), or c) wrap the shrimp tail in a paper napkin (if you have one) and stuff it into your pocket. If you're seated for a meal, you can a) leave the tails as out of the way as possible on your plate, b) tuck them out of the way on your bread plate or a special bowl provided for the purpose (if any), or c) wrap the shrimp tails in your napkin (you'd better have one anyway) and then leave carefully by your plate when you leave. Aprés-vous, le deluge.

Etiquetteer wishes you much Perfectly Proper enjoyment of tailless shrimp.

*The look on her face at 00:21 in this clip from Mystic Pizza will make you wish you’d listened to your mother more.

Gift Giving, Vol. 20, Issue 74

Dear Etiquetteer:

I've been exchanging birthday and Christmas gifts with a very dear friend I met through work for 20+ years. While it’s fun to come up with something unique for him every year I don't want him to feel pressured (as much as I love giving and getting presents). I was thinking of something like, “Let’s make this the last year we exchange gifts,” but that just doesn't feel like enough.

Dear Giving Friend:

It sounds like you’re ready to end longstanding traditions with a friend because you think he doesn’t enjoy it as much as you. But you’re not sure. That . . . that doesn’t sound very substantial. Before you embark on a Discussion About Feelings, think carefully about why you have this doubt. What’s your evidence? Has he suggested he has trouble shopping for you? Do you expect him to express himself in the same way you do? Think objectively before you act.

But if you really feel the need for change — you might be projecting your own restlessness onto your friend — then you have to start a Discussion About Feelings and be honest and kind. You could approach this from a few angles: that you’re cleaning house, that at this point in your life you’re really reevaluating how much stuff you have, that you have such a strong friendship after so long that you’d rather cherish that instead of tangible reminders. Be prepared to hear out your friend, whose opinion might not be what you expect.

You could also refocus your gift giving to consumables like specialty foods, beverages, or experiences (e.g. concert or theatre tickets, dinner out, etc.). Once they’re consumed, they take up no space! Etiquetteer suspects you each want the other to have a stress-free Christmas, but exchanging gifts with you might actually make his Christmas more joyous than you realize. Etiquetteer wishes you a loving and candid discussion with your friend.

Dear Etiquetteer:

What types of gifts are appropriate for female friends to give to a man, and for male friends to give to a woman? Or better yet, what types of gifts are completely inappropriate?

Dear Gifty:

These days, when mixed-gender friendships are not scrutinized so rigorously under the lens of Possible Marriage, it’s Perfectly Proper to give a gift that corresponds to a friend’s interests. So if your friend is interested in plants, cooking, French history, cosplay, exotic animals, card games, whatever — find a gift related to that interest. Avoid something that is obviously expensive. While often intended kindly, expensive gifts sometimes create a spirit of competition. That can rob the gift giving of its joy by putting the focus on the value of the gifts, and not the greater value of the friendship that inspires the giving.

There used to be a lot more restrictions on what gifts a lady could and could not accept from a gentleman. When Millicent Fenwick detailed how the rules were changing for unmarried girls in Vogue’s Book of Etiquette in 1948, one rule did not change: “Never accept a valuable present from a beau or possible beau — a very old rule and very sound.” Etiquetteer has always adored the followup from How to Set Up for Mah-Jongg and Other Lost Arts: “A lady never accepts an expensive present from a gentleman not her husband. A lady never accepts a present from her husband that’s not expensive.” So jewelry isn’t a Perfectly Proper gift for a gentleman to give a Woman Not His Wife.

Nor is clothing. Scarlett O’Hara is torn when Rhett Butler presents her with that green bonnet, and in the novel Gone With the Wind she remembers her mother’s admonitions against receiving anything like, “not even gloves or handkerchiefs. Should you accept such gifts, men would know you were no lady and would try to take liberties.”** Which Rhett Butler was very candid about trying to do.

For a girl graduating high school, The New American Etiquette of 1941 suggests that she might give her boyfriend “a wallet, fountain pen, or some such inexpensive evidence of her friendship,” while he might give her “flowers and an impersonal gift.” Etiquetteer would modify the classic advice of a gift being impersonal to suggesting that a gift correspond to a person’s interests without being too intimate — and absolutely not suggestive in any way.

The New American Etiquette includes gift suggestion lists for unmarried women to give to others, some laughably Of the Period. For instance, the list of gifts suitable to give to a man friend include: “Bronze sun dial, vacuum ice tub, onyx cut-out numerical dial clock, book-ends, portable bar of leather, saddle leather traveling game set.” The list of gifts suitable for a male relative betrays more intimate knowledge of daily habits: “Clothing accessories … electric shaving razor, ash tray and box for cigarettes . . . smoking equipment and supplies.”

Finally, personal handicrafts can’t be ruled out. Etiquetteer includes this because of the many wonderful skilled crafters and cooks out there, and because Edith Wharton mentions that the pansies on stage in Faust at the beginning of The Age of Innocence resemble “the floral pen-wipers made by female parishioners for fashionable clergymen.” Impersonal, but very much a gift of one’s self.

Etiquetteer wishes you joy as you search for the Perfectly Proper gift for each friend on your list.

*This is just a preference, but Etiquetteer would suggest you avoid food gifts like artisanal herb vinegars and condiments that are rarely used but take up space. The bottle looks less pretty the more dust it gathers on the counter.

**Gone With the Wind, by Margaret Mitchell, page 244. Used without permission. Please don’t hurt me.

Controversial Subjects, Vol. 20, Issue 73

Dear Etiquetteer:

Two questions for you. I’m curious about the correct response to a dining companion, sitting next to one at a bar, who asserts the virus is a hoax and refuses to say whether they are vaxed.

Then, when the same person asserts that destruction at BLM protests was done by “those people,” is it reasonable and appropriate to insist that they explain who those people are?

Dear Dining:

Having a difficult conversation in public is one thing. Having a difficult conversation at a bar while eating dinner is another. And having a difficult conversation at a bar while eating dinner with a stranger* is something else altogether. Let’s unpack this one thing at a time.

Eitquette advisors used to warn readers not to have personal conversations in restaurants at all, lest they be overheard, misinterpreted, and then circulated. Indiscretion was always to be avoided**. At least when one is seated at a restaurant table one has one’s choice of companions and the illusion of privacy. That’s not possible when shoulder to shoulder at the bar, jostling elbows to wield knife and fork. Then at least a little sociability is expected; it won’t do at a bar to appear exclusive or standoffish***.

That still doesn’t make a bar a Perfectly Proper arena for debate on the Big Issues, especially if it’s active and noisy. Etiquetteer can hear Dear Mother now: “This is neither the time nor the place.” If this is someone you know personally, you can deflect by either suggesting you talk about it elsewhere (“I’m really not comfortable talking about this topic right here and right now”) or changing the subject completely. The latter is classic etiquette advice for just about any difficult topic in any setting.

With strangers — and it is easy to fall into conversation with strangers at a bar — it feels trickier. Whether the conversation continues or not, you are trapped next to each other until at least one of you finishes eating, pays, and leaves. You have no reason to believe this stranger might not become belligerent.

Depending on how engaged you want to be, you can just focus on your meal or change the subject (preferred), call out the stranger’s interest in the topic, e.g. “This seems to mean a lot to you” (risky — this falls under “Hold My Gold”), or declare yourself on the Opposing Team, e.g. “I disagree completely” (very risky — this totally falls under “B****, It’s ON!”). Etiquetteer takes no responsibility for either of the last two suggestions. Under no circumstances should you suggest that you might “take this outside,” a traditional invitation to fisticuffs.

Finally, it’s deeply uncomfortable to discover that a dinner companion isn’t treating the coronavirus seriously when you are. And that discomfort is magnified when dining unmasked in public. Etiquetteer said early in the pandemic that we were all going to have to get more comfortable with questions about our health, and this is an important example. When making plans to go out with people you know, be candid about your own vaccination status, and insist on knowing theirs. If they can’t or won’t share that information, suggest a remote gathering instead.

But once you’re in it, you’re in it. If you become so uncomfortable that you believe your health is at risk, Etiquetteer will support you if you mask up at once and leave; pay your check at the front desk if necessary. (You may need to explain things, as quietly as possible, to the bartender — preferably at the other end of the bar.) With friends or family members, it’s clear that this will need to be discussed later. There’s no need to say anything but “Excuse me,” if that, to a stranger.

The coronavirus is never not going to be controversial. Etiquetteer wishes you prudent and forthright dinner companions in well-ventilated spaces as the pandemic continues.

*”Dining companion” does, of course, imply that you know each other, but at a bar it’s almost unavoidable to sit next to a total stranger, too.

**Now we have social media, heaven help us.

***Etiquetteer draws the line, however, at extensive commentary on one’s meal. It’s very offputting to have someone talk about everything you’re about to put in your mouth.

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.