Friends and Food Allergies, Vol. 22, Issue 52

Dear Etiquetteer:

I’d love help with something! I have multiple food allergies, which can make getting together with friends/colleagues/etc. a bit more of a chore on my end (as I need to do some reconnaissance regarding menus of places being considered for a gathering). That has the unintended consequence of making it seem like I’m looking for a way out of the get-together, when I just want to make sure I can enjoy something during the outing. What are some suggestions for maneuvering a rather tricky social situation?

Dear Allergic:

First of all, be first with the suggestions! If there’s a restaurant, watering hole, or other eatery that you already know can accommodate you, don’t be afraid to say you’d like to go there. You’ll be able to make more suggestions first, too, if you start now researching establishments that meet your needs. Keep a list on your phone or person that you can refer to in the moment. Depending on where you live, that could be quite an undertaking. On the plus side, you may discover some hidden gems that become regular allergy-friendly hangouts.

You can’t bring your own refreshments to a restaurant, but you can (surprise!) when you’re going to someone else’s house. Famously vegetarian Gloria Swanson would slip her sandwich to the butler (if there was one) so it could be served with the entrée, or just slip it unobtrusively out of her handbag. (Think of Queen Elizabeth II and Paddington Bear. If she can get away with it, certainly we can!) The point is to do it without a lot of fanfare and flourishes, and certainly without any preparation time in the kitchen. If anyone is so rude as to ask about it, just tell them that your multiple allergies have you on a strict regimen and change the subject.

But you seem to be asking what to do when a venue has been suggested in a group text (or even in person), and no one knows for certain whether a restaurant’s menu has anything for you. There’s no use hiding it — you have to know. Commit to the time, and get as much info off the web as you can. (It seems a lot of restaurants just don’t have phones any more.) Thank the group for their patience, but without apologizing — “I really want to spend time with all of you, but I have to be sure I can have more than water and salad.” You can always counter with another venue you know can serve you.

Knowledge is Power, and when you have the knowledge of where you can go with Allergy Accommodation Assurance, you’ll have the power to say yea or nay on a dime. Etiquetteer wishes you many risk-free gatherings of Perfect Propriety with friends, colleagues, and et ceteras.

Beach Etiquette, Vol. 22, Issue 51

Hell is other people. — Jean-Paul Sartre

Dear Etiquetteer:

I’m sure you’ve addressed this at some point in your storied etiquette career, but if not, I’d like to know how to address the subject of beach behavior, particularly, the following:

1. If you’ve set up your beach spot for the day, and someone moves directly in front of you, blocking your carefully chosen view of the ocean, how do you deal with this in a perfectly proper way?

2. What about loud music players at the beach? I know the beach is a public space, but must people haul what amounts to the entirety of their homes onto the beach so as not to be without a single comfort of home for a few hours? I prefer to commune with nature and the sound of the sea—not someone else’s music!

3. Seagulls are smart little squawkers and they will find a way into your unguarded snacky-bits, but that doesn’t give you (or your loud and annoying children) the right to harass them in return! What should one say or do (if anything) to self-appointed wildlife wardens?

Dear Sandy Shores:

Etiquetteer knows those fresh few hours when it’s possible “to commune with nature and the sound of the sea.” They generally fall between dawn and 10:00 AM, after which time the Madding Crowd descends with their elaborate shelters, stereo systems, and seagull bait.

It would be lovely if everyone wanted to enjoy the beach in the same way that we did, but since American ideas of enjoyment (and manners) fill the entire spectrum, we have to learn to coexist peacefully. That means not being so sniffy about how much gear people drag along with them. Etiquetteer once witnessed a party of eight or so march onto a beach bearing a Cleopatran litter of gear surmounted by an enormous inflatable flamingo. The resulting campsite included a semicircle of beach chairs and umbrellas, towels, some sort of stereo, a generator, and three blenders on a folding table so the party could offer smoothies to passersby. It was vastly entertaining — but then Etiquetteer’s towel was nowhere nearby.

Staking out your space directly in front of someone else, however, is a jerk move, especially with one of those large sail-sized tarps that extend everywhere. Thomas Jefferson may (or may not, depending on who you talk to) have said “The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.” Guard your view with a Cheery Greeting as soon as anyone even remotely looks like they might be stopping in front of your beach chairs. The more animated and eager to engage you appear, the more likely they’ll find another spot for fear of getting stuck talking to you all day. The moment you see one of those tarps come out, and maybe even an umbrella, ask nicely if they wouldn’t mind moving a few feet in either direction. If there’s still room to maneuver, they should accommodate, but some beaches are very crowded. Besides, the people next to you might say “Hey, now you’re blocking my view!”

On future visits you may wish to safeguard your view by settling right at the high tide line, but that’s no guarantee.

Etiquetteer really blames George I for the perceived need for beachside tunes. It was his wish for a concert on the Thames that led Handel to write his Water Music. Mass production of the transistor radio in 1954 made this elite pleasure possible for everyone — but they don’t often choose Handel, now do they*? Few problems are solved without communication. Beyond a “Would you mind turning that down a bit?” Etiquetteer could only suggest that you ask them to play something you like — and even then, that’s not likely to be received well.

As to the treatment of seagulls, Etiquetteer must gently disagree with you. Eternal vigilance is needed to protect one’s picnics from these avian menaces. Others are simply more proactive than you prefer. As long as no physical contact is actually made with a seagull, Etiquetteer has no qualm. Other sea birds, however, should be left strictly alone.

Etiquetteer would gladly join you for a Coastal Grandma-style beach day — plenty of unbleached linen, tattered cotton plaids, enormous hats, plain white umbrellas, trashy novels, and rosé, and no music — but in the meantime wishes you all the serenity of the tide gently lapping the sands.

*In fact, two dear friends of Etiquetteer were once reduced to helpless laughter when they could not escape the sounds of “Diva” by Club 69 blasting from the boombox of some Very Naughty Boys.

Workplace Dress Codes, Vol. 22, Issue 50

Dear Etiquetteer:

Very timely column [about elegance] because only yesterday I was having a conversation with a colleague about appropriate work attire, especially for the younger generation. Perhaps I’m just getting old and (more) stuffy, but whatever happened to dressing appropriately when your job is literally to be the first face of the organization for the public? I work at a museum and one of my responsibilities is to raise the level of professionalism there (if you can imagine that). The staff greeting the public are in their twenties and come dressed in any manner of less than casual attire, as in pajama bottoms and slippers, I kid you not. Shorts, T-shirts, flip flops, high midriff shirts (do I really want to know how you adorn you belly button?). What is happening??? Any suggestions?

Dear Aghast:

What’s happening is the end of civilization as we know it; what you’re witnessing is just one tiny facet of it. Improving the appearance and demeanor of your front-of-house colleagues could involve two things: information and a museum-wide dress code, which could involve a front-of-house uniform.

Change is the only constant, as we know, and Etiquetteer is not thinking about those old theatre usher uniforms from a century ago. Those trim, bright red gold-braided jackets and jaunty pillbox hats look so charming, but they don’t suit the times, not to mention the figures of anyone over the age of 12. With even the housemaids at the White House wearing polo shirts on duty*, why not invest in a bale of them for your staff embroidered with your museum’s logo? Then draft a company-wide dress code about what may, and may not, be worn with them. Consider pullovers or sweaters for the colder months, too.

Getting your staff invested in the museum’s mission and visitor experience will be an important part of this process. How do they impact how visitors perceive the museum? Do they know that? Sharing good feedback from visitors, bringing them into plans for the future (for instance, new exhibitions), soliciting their opinions for improvements to the museum experience — in short, making them feel engaged will reinforce how they make a difference, and how important they feel their jobs are.

Etiquetteer will never not love Anne Taintor’s Dress for the job you want.

Positions like these are not seen as lifetime career choices, and Etiquetteer is sure that all your young colleagues expect to move into different fields at some point. Changing the impression of the job from a temporary gig to a career steppingstone could make a difference in how they choose to present themselves. The old advice “Dress for the job you want” is still good advice. You may have to have a few individual conversations, starting with the worst offenders, to find out what their own goals are. This could help you steer them into making better choices for a professional self-presentation that will also benefit the museum.

Etiquetteer wishes you patience and resolve as you embark on this endeavor, and a corps of crisp and Perfectly Proper colleagues.

*This surprising fact learned from The Residence: Inside the Private World of the White House, by Kate Andersen Brower (2016).

Ten Elegant Things to Resurrect, Vol. 22, Issue 49

Elegance may be defined as “always suggest[ing] refinement, polish, propriety, especially as the result of breeding or nice selective instinct” [emphasis Etiquetteer’s]. Etiquetteer has been meditating on a few elegant aspects of daily life we might do more to bring back. Most of this list, a little surprisingly, has to do with dinner or coffee.

Deportment

Were you hectored by your parents to stand or sit up straight? This is why. Etiquetteer thinks of deportment mostly as posture, but it is really about how you hold all of yourself (your “carriage”) and how you move. The late Duchess of Devonshire, née Deborah Mitford, summed up Etiquetteer’s attitude when writing about tiaras: “Tiaras elevate the wearer, making her look more distinguished and taller because of the unaccustomed posture (which used to be taught as ‘deportment,’ long forgotten in this sloppy age.”*) Deportment is a cure for sloppiness.

Don’t have a tiara? Practice the old-fashioned way, balancing a book on your head while walking. For advanced practice, balance a book on your head walking up a flight of stairs. (Etiquetteer is not liable for damages if you fall.) When filming her famous staircase descent in Sunset Boulevard, Gloria Swanson imagined a steel rod down her back. Etiquetteer generally thinks of Wagner’s overture to Die Meistersinger.

Unhurried punctuality

There is really nothing like walking into a room knowing that you are in exactly the right place at the right time. The way to do this is to schedule travel time, and then schedule a little extra (when you can) in case of a) emergency, or b) unreliable traffic and/or transportation. Etiquetteer knows this is not always possible, but it can be done.

Arriving late in order to make a grand entrance is simply Not Perfectly Proper. Etiquetteer once witnessed a Texas lady attempt this at a dinner of about 100 people, as well as her chagrin when no one noticed. (But her deportment was impressive.) The only person who could really get away with it was the late Queen Alexandra, but a) she was the queen, and b) she’s dead now anyway. Don’t let your folie de grandeur make you look ridiculous.

Separate dining rooms

The trend these last few decades is for larger eat-in, entertain-in kitchens, which Etiquetteer blames on the disappearance of domestic staff for the middle class. (That may be an issue to take up another day.) But Etiquetteer longs for the dining room which, removed from the barely controlled chaos of the kitchen, represents a calm and leisurely atmosphere conducive to good conversation. That Mr. Dimmick Who Thinks He Knows So Much has worked out a hybrid approach: a kitchen with no table and chairs — meals must be consumed in the dining room — but with two small armchairs for the cocktail hour for very small dinner parties.

Dinner for six

Sometimes described as the number of harmony, six makes a nice dinner party because it’s small enough for general conversation but large enough for widely divergent areas of expertise. Also, if your domestic staff has disappeared, it’s not an unmanageable number of prepare for and clean up after.

Candle shades, preferably pink

“I have never admitted that I am more than twenty-nine, or thirty at the most,” said Mrs. Erlynne in Lady Windermere’s Fan. “Twenty-nine when there are pink shades, thirty when there are not.**” Candlelight is always kind to the complexion, and kinder still when seen through rose-colored shades clipped to the top. Marie and César Ritz, after much experimenting with their electricians over different fabrics, “eventually yielded a solution: a pleated silk lampshade, white, with a silk inner lining that was pale apricot-pink. The resulting light was warming but not too bright and, Ritz exclaimed ‘reduced the appearance of a woman by ten years!’”*** These days, silk is preferred, but paper shades will do quite nicely, thank you very much.

Electric silver coffee pots or urns

Now plastic and only for the kitchen, coffeemakers were once made to adapt beautiful antique designs to the modern convenience of electricity. No, Etiquetteer is not talking about those 36-cup cylindrical percolators Dear Mother used to bring out for bridge club, marvelous though they are, but percolators or coffee pots designed to look like 18th-century silver urns. The closest thing Etiquetteer can find online is this coffeepot, but there were beautiful Queen Anne and Georgian-style urns as well. So much more convenient, and twice as lovely, when serving directly from the breakfast table.

Café Brûlot

Café brûlot “is not just coffee,” Emily Kimbrough tells us excitedly in So Near and Yet So Far, “it is a decoction and a ceremony.” Invented at Antoine’s in New Orleans back in 1880 (read its history here), Miss Kimbrough witnessed it in a private home performed by an expert: “The room was in complete darkness. Mrs. Munson struck a match to the alcohol in the tray. The flame, bright blue, rose quickly, surrounding the bowl. Mrs. Munson took up a long silver ladle . . . She spooned into the bowl and lifted high into the air the ingredients placed there, but what we saw was a running sliver of flame, up from the tray, filling the ladle. Up and down, dipping and pouring, she carried the dancing, bright blue flame, and laughed with the pleasure of a child at our exclamations of astonishment. When the flame died out, and she had added the coffee, Mrs. Munson ladled it from the bowl into the brûlot cups.****”

Etiquetteer is absolutely enchanted with this image, but is not at all liable if you burn down the house attempting it yourself. The emergency arrival of the fire department is seldom elegant.

Demitasse

If café brûlot feels too risky, and it might, we could always attempt demitasse. And by that Etiquetteer means not after-dinner coffee in a regular-sized coffee cup, but a Perfectly Proper teeny-tiny demitasse cup after dinner in the parlor. Those cups are so beautiful, and you shouldn’t be drinking that much coffee after dinner in the first place.

Posy pins

Etiquetteer has written about the posy pin before, and it’s still true. But truly to bring this back requires wearing a jacket with a lapel in which to sport it, and too many gentlemen just don’t want to take the “trouble.” It’s most distressing.

Furlane

“We shall walk in velvet shoes,” goes the old poem by Elinor Wylie, but Etiquetteer does not think she was thinking about furlane. Also spelled friulane, these Venetian velvet slippers are Perfectly Proper for anything, day or night. Etiquetteer still treasures a pair from Piedaterre in Venice, but daily wear for something like eight years reduced them to a state of Jeffersonian disrepute.

*All in One Basket, by Deborah Mitford, Duchess of Devonshire, 2011, page 237.

**Lady Windermere’s Fan, by Oscar Wilde.

***Ritz and Escoffier, by Luke Barr, page 215-216.

****So Near and Yet So Far, by Emily Kimbrough, 1955, pages 81-82.

Etiquette as a Force, Vol. 22, Issue 48

Chatting online, a friend said to Etiquetteer “I find etiquette to be one of the most needed and wonderful things the civilized world has ever invented!” Some people would say yes, others definitely not. Like any force or belief system, etiquette can be used for good or evil. In the past etiquette was often used as a means of control and exclusion, mostly famously by Louis XIV. His attention to what privileges were accorded to what rank left courtiers quarreling among themselves over who had the right to be seated, and where, and on what, at any given Court function rather than on — oh, I don’t know — improving the lot of the peasants. And we see where that brought us.

Madame Campan (may she rest in peace) told the story of the Comtesse de Noailles in her wonderful biography of Marie Antoinette* and how rigid Versailles had become over trifles:

“Etiquette was to [the Countess] a sort of atmosphere; at the slightest derangement of the consecrated order, one would have thought the principles of life would forsake her frame. One day I unintentionally threw this poor lady into a terrible agony. The Queen was receiving I know not whom . . . I was near the throne, with the two women on duty . . . Suddenly I perceived the eyes of Madame de Noailles fixed on mine. She made a sign with her head, and then raised her eyebrows to the top of her forehead, lowered them, raised them again, then began to make little signs with her hand. From all this pantomime, I could easily perceive that something was not as it should be; and as I looked about on all sides to find out what it was, the agitation of the Countess kept increasing. The Queen, who perceived all this, looked at me with a smile; I found means to approach her Majesty, who said to me in a whisper, ‘Let down your lappets, or the Countess will expire.’ All this bustle arose from two unlucky pins which fastened up my lappets, whilst the etiquette of costume said ‘Lappets hanging down.’”

This was an era when the message of etiquette was “Know your place.” Now, Etiquetteer hopes, we can use etiquette to say “Here is how to have a place in community with everyone.” The first step in that journey is showing concern for others.

Etiquetteer’s friend also asked “Does the general lack of etiquette in the US drive you nuts?” Well, it would if there weren’t already so many people out there who do consider how their behavior impacts people around them. For everyone Facetiming on speaker in public, for everyone deliberately dressing to expose their underwear, for everyone taking group selfies in the middle of concerts (and not seeing a problem with it), there are many others who are holding doors, thanking cashiers, using earbuds (or simply not choosing to use technology where others can hear it), and expressing gratitude with Lovely Notes. Every child learning how to use “Please” and “thank you” gives Etiquetteer hope.

Etiquetteer would love to hear from you about what makes you hope or fear for the future of Perfect Propriety. Drop a line to Etiquetteer here.

*Marie Antoinette had nicknamed the Countess “Madame l’Etiquette.”

Baby Showers, Vol. 22, Issue 47

Someone wrote to Miss Conduct over at the Boston Globe, outraged about a baby shower that would be missing all the traditional elements of a baby shower. There would be no opening of gifts; the mother-to-be had asked that all gifts be mailed to her home in another town. There would be no visibly pregnant mother; the mother-to-be was employing a surrogate who would not be at the shower. Finally — and this seemed to outrage the writer most — the mother-to-be was hosting the shower for herself. The writer said that the whole thing was nothing but a “gift grab” and implied somewhat nastily that this mother-to-be was Not Making Good Life Choices.

In her response, Miss Conduct asked “Who the heck is supposed to host a shower for a 40-plus woman anyway? Her nana?” Etiquetteer would say, “Her friends.” Good manners once prevented relatives from hosting baby and bridal showers at all — to keep the family from looking greedy, perhaps — leaving that obligations to friends of the honoree. “When they are given,” Amy Vanderbilt said in 1963*, they are given by friends rather than relatives.” In this century, that’s no longer the case. The Centennial Edition of Emily Post’s Etiquette states clearly “. . . sometimes a parent or sibling is the only sensible person to host and they can feel confident doing so.**”

But hosting your own baby shower is not really the best look. When hosting your own birthday party you can always add “No gifts please” to the invitation***; that won’t work for a shower. Clearly the perception of trawling for gifts bothered the reader, and it may have bothered others; that will always be a risk when you hold a party for yourself. For any shower, keeping the guest list small should help prevent the Aura of Grabbiness.

Miss Conduct took a more charitable view of the mother-to-be/hostess’s choices, while admitting things could have been done differently. But she gave her reader both barrels over her nastiness. “I don’t know [the mother-to-be] or how she lives her life. But I know what you wrote. Whatever she did, you need to take a good look at yourself.” For Etiquetteer, this writer was clearly having a problem with How Things Have Changed, well beyond the idea of throwing a party for yourself. Etiquette’s focus has changed from chastising those who break the rules to kindness, inclusivity, and (when needed) gentle correction. This is a change to which a lot of people are still adjusting.

When people have questions that are embarrassing or uncomfortable, they should absolutely write in to a columnist (and you can write to Etiquetteer here). It feels safe to bring up uncomfortable issues anonymously. Sometimes how you raise those issues says more about yourself than about the issue. And a columnist might point that out, as Miss Conduct did. While she surely didn’t get the response she expected, Etiquetteer is so grateful that that woman wrote Miss Conduct — and hopes others will continue to ask the Thorny Questions. Etiquetteer, for one, is ready to assist.

*Amy Vanderbilt’s New Complete Book of Etiquette: The Guide to Gracious Living, 1963.

**Emily Post’s Etiquette: The Centennial Edition, by Lizzie Post and Daniel Post Senning, 2022.

***Etiquetteer has written about the history of “No gifts please” here.

Ice Cream, Vol. 22, Issue 46

Nothing beats the simple pleasure of a dish of ice cream (or a cone, if you’re on the go), but ice cream used to have a dressier place in the American diet, as the dessert no formal dinner could omit. “The great American dessert is ice cream,” Emily Post Herself wrote in 1922, “or pie. Pie, however, is not a ‘company’ dessert. Ice cream on the other hand is the inevitable conclusion to a formal dinner.”

Dessert service for a formal dinner includes both a knife and fork. Two implements? Oh yes indeed, even though it’s overkill. “There is no practical basis for this as a spoon would often suffice,” acknowledged Millicent Fenwick in her essential Vogue’s Book of Etiquette, “and it is certainly not a rule. But for some reason, when one is given two implements, as one is for dessert, it is more attractive not to use the spoon only. The fork is used for the solid part of the ice cream, the spoon for the part which has melted.”

The exuberance of 19th-century silversmiths for creating new kinds of silverware gave us the ice cream fork, which Atlas Obscura delightfully describes as a “proto-spork.” Basically a spoon with three or four short tines, in theory it could handle any aspect of ice cream consumption. Ice cream spoons came in small or large sizes — both smaller and fancier than a teaspoon — but should not be confused with sorbet spoons, which would have been used with the Roman punch to clear the palate between courses.* It’s all most bewildering.

Antique ice cream forks.

Ice cream could be made very showy by being molded into fanciful shapes. That’s one reason it was so indispensable at formal meals when one wanted to make a handsome impression. Ellen Maury Slayden once described a formal luncheon of “ten courses, all wonderful to behold, especially the ice cream — pink roses falling out of a pink sugar umbrella into spun-candy snow.” A casual internet search for “antique ice cream molds” reveals a galaxy of shapes, even a football! Etiquetteer acquired one shaped like a clamshell during the pandemic for the Dress Dinner Challenge, but the results weren’t entirely satisfactory; you can read about that here.

But Etiquetteer isn’t the only one to have had an ice cream crisis. Henrietta Nesbitt, the White House Housekeeper We Love to Hate, had a mishap at a 1937 White House dinner for the Governor General of Canada, Lord Tweedsmuir. “A White House dinner isn’t complete without ice cream, [which] was made up outside for big occasions in special molds. It was always the high minute of the evening when they came onto the tables, all fixed up beautifully, in pretty colors and shapes.”

But that only works if the ice cream has actually been delivered. “At six o’clock . . . Ida mentioned casually that the ice-cream molds had not arrived. I tried to telephone the shop that made them. It was closed for the night. I tried to reach the woman who ran it. She wasn’t home. By this time I was shaking all over. In my desperation I telephoned Mr. Hubert, a caterer we had not been dealing with at all . . . He called back his driver, packed eight forms of plain ice-cream bricks — drugstore ice cream, we call it — and rushed them over. They arrived at the White House door just as we were clearing the State Dining-room table for the dessert, and I never gave a more thankful prayer in my life. We unpacked and sliced them in record time, and from the little dining room I could see Mrs. Roosevelt’s look of shock, which she covered over fast, when the dessert plates came on with just slices of plain ice cream . . . What had happened, the storekeeper had left the molds out with orders that were to be delivered, and they were still there the next morning, melted all over the floor.**”

If you’re sitting at a table to enjoy your ice cream, standard table manners apply: sit up straight, put your napkin in your lap, and don’t gesture with your spoon. For heaven’s sake, don’t lick yourself where ice cream may have melted — or anyone else, for that matter; that’s why there’s a napkin.

*Sterling Silver Flatware For Dining Elegance, by Richard Osterberg (1999).

**From White House Diary, by Henrietta Nesbitt, F.D.R.’s Housekeeper.

Shirt Buttons, Vol. 22, Issue 45

Dear Etiquetteer:

Here’s one for you, since you’re Perfectly Proper and an expert. After seeing this blog post, I’ve been having a debate with a male friend about men about what’s proper for how many buttons should be undone on a shirt in a moderately casual but not super familiar situation. What’s your take on this?

Dear Buttoning:

Etiquetteer grew up in the 1970s, a revolutionary — some might say aberrant — period of fashion the way the Roaring Twenties was. A lot of experimentation took place with new forms, fabrics, and ways to wear clothes. The Swinging Seventies gave us the stereotype of the male swinger, neck hung with multiple gold chains and zodiac medallions, and a polyester* shirt open almost to the navel. While one undone button might have been allowed in the 1950s and 1960s, and possibly two — often with a visible white T-shirt beneath — that was considered conservative for the Swinging Seventies. Dear Father kept two buttons undone, and so did Young Etiquetteer. But in popular culture, images of entirely unbuttoned men were not at all unusual.

The pendulum began to swing back by the end of the decade, perhaps with the influence of The Preppy Handbook. Certainly because the swinger stereotype had become a joke. When John Boswell was photographed for the back cover of his book Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality with three buttons disengaged, it was considered Not Quite Perfectly Proper. Etiquetteer cannot tell if he has three or four buttons unbuttoned.

What might be a good guideline now? To look like a gentleman of good taste, one should not look burlesqued**. What décolletage a man shares can remain in the bounds of good taste as long as it doesn’t call undue attention to itself. In the 2020s, more than three un-buttons would be too much, unless it can be carried off with a certain amount of unself-consciousness. One or two would perhaps be in better taste. In the office, where performance counts more than pulchritude, Etiquetteer will allow up to two un-buttons if you’re not wearing a tie — which of course Etiquetteer thinks you should be anyway.

*Often Qiana.

**Dandyism may take men’s fashions to an exaggerated extreme, but its foundation is elegance, mostly protecting it from the charge of burlesque.

How to Host a Nude Dinner Party, Vol. 22, Issue 45.1

Earlier this year The New York Times published a piece Etiquetteer never expected to see from the Grey Lady: “Private Dinner Party: No Clothes Allowed.” Excuse me? Artist and model Charlie Ann Max began the Füde Dinner Experience in 2020 during the pandemic — a time we’ve all tried new things, but not perhaps entertaining au naturel.

But This Sort of Thing has been going on for a very long time — and no, Etiquetteer does not mean the ancient world. Jan Gay leaves a delightful account in her book On Going Naked of a nude dinner party for six women — like the Füde Dinner Experience, in a Manhattan artist’s loft — on a warm evening before air conditioning.* Reclining on low couches in imitation of a female statue in the gallery, “the only interruption was the occasional entrance of waiters from the restaurant downstairs with successive courses which obliged us to disappear hastily beneath tapestries and couch-covers until the servants had gone. It was a hilarious dinner party.”

Really, things are so much simpler when you don’t have to worry about what to wear, aren’t they Well, not quite. Etiquetteer has a few tips in case you want to attempt this in the privacy of your own home.

For the host

Managing expectations is always important, but especially when all the clothes come off. Specify the dress code in advance, whether it’s clothing-optional or if clothing is not an option.

Expect questions, especially from guests who have never attended such a thing before in all their born days. Be patient.

One question may be about photos. Etiquetteer thinks a safer and more comfortable evening is assured if photos, and phones, are not permitted. Be sure your guests know in advance.

If someone you invite absolutely declines, for whatever reason, it’s bad form to press them further. Accept their response graciously. This includes a last-minute cancellation.

On the day of the dinner, you’ll need to prepare a separate room (usually a bedroom) where your guests can disrobe and leave their clothes. Depending on the number of people attending, you might want to provide separate tote bags, or ask guests to bring one.

Cover the furniture, and be sure your curtains are securely closed. Candlelight creates a welcoming atmosphere, and adding pink candleshades is even more flattering.

Whoever is doing the cooking at least needs to wear an apron! And indeed, don’t answer the door disrobed; you really cannot know if it’s one of your guests or someone else.

FOR THE GUESTS

It’s OK to feel a bit anxious.

This is definitely one of those nights when people will know if your socks have holes in them, so choose a pair that’s intact.

Bring a towel to sit on. This is helpful if the hosts haven’t actually covered the furniture (but they should). Spare the towel and spoil the slipcover.

When you disrobe, fold and stack your things tidily; don’t just leave them in a pile. Bring a tote bag if you wish.

So often we’re taught to keep our hands in our laps during dinner, but you may want to rethink that.

And really, keep your hands to yourself.

Absolutely no photos without the consent of all present, starting with your host.

Any time you speak with someone, your focus should be on their eyes. It’s just like any other party. Don’t stare.

And as at any party, the most important preparation you can make is to be ready to talk with other people, including people you don’t know. If you can be ready for some conversational give and take, you’ll be readier to enjoy the occasion, whatever you’re (not) wearing.

*At least before 1932, when On Going Naked was published.

Etiquetteer's Guidelines for Cell Phone Manners, Vol. 22, Issue 44

For National Cell Phone Courtesy Month, here are Etiquetteer’s Top Ten Guidelines for Cell Phone Etiquette:

1. No one else should have to hear your phone conversation. Let’s say that again, together: no one else should have to hear your phone conversation. That means not putting your caller on speaker just because you can hear better when you’re out in public. This is especially true in places from which no one can escape, like elevators, public transportation, restaurants, and the jury pool. Use distance (Verizon recommends at least ten feet) and/or earbuds to keep your chatter to yourself.

2. No one cares about your musical choices either. If you are using your smartphone to play music or podcasts, use earbuds. There are no exceptions to this rule.

3. That also includes children’s games. When your child is using your phone to play a game with annoying quaintsy-waintsy music or other sound effects, earbuds are essential. Yes, it’s important it is to keep your child occupied. That still doesn’t mean everyone around you needs to hear your child’s game.

4. Private information should remain private. If you can be overheard, it’s best not to go into detail about medical, financial, emotional, political, or business difficulties.

5. Avoid using your phone while in motion, for instance on escalators (especially irritating), staircases, and sidewalks. Concentrating on social media or even just talking can lead you to slow down or stop, inconveniencing people around you. That’s rude; stop it at once.

6. Now matter how excited you might be about a stage performance, your phone is not a projectile. Never throw your phone at anyone or anything, no matter how you feel. Your phone is a communications device, but that is not how to communicate with it.

7. Show respect to the people you’re with by not taking calls in front of them, and by ending them quickly when they can’t be avoided. Etiquetteer can’t say it enough: be with the people with you! If you know you expect an unavoidable call (from the hospital, for instance), say so up front when you first greet your companions.

8. This is just as important with cashiers and service personnel. Get off the phone entirely before you approach the counter. Cashiers are people, too, and they deserve the respect of your full attention while they serve you. So do the people behind you in line. (A reader once shared a traumatizing example.)

9. Do keep your voice down. If you can’t be heard at the the other end of the phone without yelling, it’s a sign that you should postpone your conversation until you’re someplace else. This seems to happen a lot on public transportation . . .

10. Enunciate. You’ll be better understood without yelling if you take the time to enunciate your words correctly.

Etiquette Oddities, Vol. 22, Issue 43

Some rare and slender volumes have made their way into Etiquetteer’s etiquette library. It’s sometimes interesting to browse them for antique advice that remains relevant today — or doesn’t.

For Gracious Greeks, a product of the women’s music fraternity Sigma Alpha Iota*, presented “to its fraternity membership as a guide to gracious living,” provides this nugget of midcentury Perfect Propriety: “Smart travelers do not ‘dress up’ to travel. Dark dresses and suits of material not easily mussed are best.” How definitions change with time! When traveling it was still considered necessary to look respectable and put together. The best traveling clothes were those that would conceal dust and dirt (for instance, from coal-burning locomotives) and keep from wrinkling. This is why tans and grays were considered so appropriate. Think of nowadays! “Not dressing up” means rolling up to the airport in pajamas and sweatsuits and flip flops — not Perfectly Proper.

Tact, by Sir John Lubbock**, opens with this quotation from Jean Paul Richter: “Men, like bullets, go farthest when they are smoothest.” A booklet for businessmen of the period, it confirms that some advice is timeless as long as it is expressed in the current style. For instance, this could describe what we now call Active Listening: “Little or much may be done to satisfy a complainant. But the main thing is to make him feel that his complaint was listened to with attentive consideration, that an interest was taken in his trouble, and a sincere determination was shown to make matters right.”

Finally, The School of Manners, or Rules for Childrens Behaviours of 1701, reminds us that good table manners are ageless. “Spit not forth anything that is not convenient to be fwallowed, such as the stones of Plums, Cherries, or fuch like; but with thy left hand neatly move them to the fide of thy plate or trencher” and “Look not earneftly at any one that is eating” are as true now as then, though we no longer use trenchers or the long f.

*No publication date is given, but Etiquetteer’s Dear Mother likely picked this up on college. So it can be dated to 1947-51.

**1950.

Le Diner en Blanc 2023, Vol. 22, Issue 42

“Frivolity is a stern taskmaster.” — Zippy the Pinhead

“Look! We’ve made enchantment!” — Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams

Last Saturday night Etiquetteer attended Le Diner en Blanc, a very large BYOE* dinner party with a very strict all-white dress code held in dozens of cities around the world. “Although the technology behind this fantastic event may have changed over the years,” declares their official website, “the principles fueling it have not; guests continue to gather at a secret location with the sole purpose of sharing a gourmet meal with good friends at the heart of one of their city’s most beautiful locations.” What could be more Perfectly Proper than that?

By its very nature — dressy, somewhat strenuous, and gregarious — the DEB audience selects itself. To convene 1,500 people and their equipment (tables, chairs, decorations, etc.) and then march them all to a secret location no more than 15 minutes away on foot — that’s a lot. Two overarching etiquette principles stood out: be prepared, because your arrangements will impact others; and be prepared to enjoy yourself no matter what — what the late W. Clement Stone famously called Success Through a Positive Mental Attitude.

The walk to the secret location begins with the guests lining up at a muster point in assigned order behind their table leader and following as briskly as local street traffic allows. This becomes challenging when someone’s dolly or wagon breaks down, scattering folding chairs and holding up everyone in the back; or when the lights change before everyone can cross the street. There’s nothing like a good dress rehearsal, or an extra bungee cord. Everyone can keep up when you take extra care.

Observe all this gear!

On site, swift setup keeps the event moving seamlessly. Knowing how your equipment is assembled is really important! The theme of this year’s DEB was “elegance,” for which Etiquetteer used this definition: “dignified gracefulness or restrained beauty of style.” For the table in this first year, Etiquetteer opted for a tiny centerpiece of white flowers and two crystal votives over plain but old white damask. Others, veterans no doubt, were astonishing in their constructions.

But one needs to be prepared for accidents, in this case the weather. High winds blew over that tiny centerpiece in only five minutes, soaking parts of the tablecloth. Thank goodness for an extra damask napkin to cover the mess! Another party nearby had to disassemble their elaborate tablescape, which included two-foot tall goblets and candlesticks even taller, dripping with mirror fringe. They must have seen another definition of elegance: “tasteful richness of design or ornamentation.” Etiquetteer heard that they accepted sacrificing their over-the-top decorations in the proper spirit.

This would not have been Perfectly Proper.

A party like this with a strict dress code to achieve a specific effect — in this case, a vista of elegant white — is naturally going to call attention to what people wear, especially if they don’t pay attention. And you could tell who read the assignment, and who didn’t. At least no one showed up in red like Bette Davis in Jezebel! Etiquetteer found the — how to say this? — the wide interpretation of the word “elegant” particularly American, and therefore brisk and bracing. Ladies definitely embraced fascinators and beautiful white hats. More than a few gentlemen, like Etiquetteer, chose white linen suits. (If you’re getting a new one, don’t make the rookie mistake of forgetting to snip the basting threads.)

But for an event that stresses “no ivory, cream, or eggshell,” one doesn’t realize how many shades of white there are until attending an event like this. This is why it’s always a good idea to rehearse your look well in advance. But let’s face it, stationing fashion police** at an event with so many moving parts would simply not be Perfectly Proper, let alone feasible. An event like this is treated as a costume party, which means many gentlemen wore white hats — and kept them on throughout dinner, which is ordinarily Not Perfectly Proper***. But after the organizers made such a point of saying “no black hatbands,” Etiquetteer saw more than a few. And more than a few sagging slacks, as a lot of men just didn’t wear belts. A white belt is not hard to come by, gents.

But, as Boris Lermontov so memorably said in The Red Shoes, “An impression of great simplicity can only be achieved by a great agony of body and spirit.” Errant bungees, high winds, and overturned glasses notwithstanding, Le Diner en Blanc made the most beautiful impression of shimmering white lightly sparked with candlelight, silver, and gold, and rippling with laughter and cheers. Which just goes to show that when everyone makes an effort, the results can be outstanding. What could be more Perfectly Proper than that?

*Bring Your Own Everything.

**Would they be brandishing Pantone color wheels?

***Always excepting religious headgear, of course.

Elevator Etiquette, Vol. 22, Issue 41

Dear Etiquetteer:

I recently moved into a fairly upscale high rise apartment building with approximately 120 units. The building is equipped with two elevators which provide for a myriad of social interaction. So many of my neighbors are polite, and even genuinely friendly. Riding the elevators generally facilitates pleasant and welcome connection. However, it is always possible to catch someone on a bad day, or at a stressful moment.

Would Etiquetteer be so kind as to provide some advice for managing the inevitable situations that arise when the building’s 200 or so residents randomly interact on a regular and recurring basis while riding the elevators. Challenges that I have noted so far include: how to deal with other people’s overly friendly or wet dogs, ongoing cell phone conversations, lost pizza delivery boys, mooning couples who smooch on the short ride upstairs.

Because I am dating someone who lives in the building on another floor, I also solicit Etiqueteer’s recommendations for elevator attire. While I would not wear a bathrobe and slippers outside my own or my beloved’s apartment, how “dressed” do I need to be to traverse between floors?

Dear Elevated:

Residential elevators are a kind of neighborhood crucible, aren’t they? They distill community feelings into a confined space for (one hopes) a very brief period. Usually they’re unremarkable, even pleasant — but sometimes a spark can start a fire. What is most important to remember is that an elevator ride is finite; whatever interactions take place will end in moments.

In general, a brief nod or “Good morning” is all that’s needed. If you feel like engaging, respond more fully. If people respond to you curtly or with silence, respect their space. A Very Reserved Tenant of a building where Etiquetteer worked, when asked “How are you today?” would respond only “Thank you.” Not “Fine, thanks” or “Very well, thank you,” but just “Thank you.” This deftly acknowledged the courtesy of the question without inviting more talk. It’s a handy strategy for when you Don’t Feel Like Talking.

There are no bad dogs, the saying goes, only bad dog owners. And bad dog owners in apartments blocks do not keep their dogs leashed in public areas, keep them from disturbing others, or think anything is ever the dog’s fault. A particular challenge when the elevator is small and the dog is large. If you feel at all uncertain, wait for the next elevator without embarrassment. If you’re already in the elevator and a dog enters, retreat to the furthest corner, greet the dog owner with a brisk “Good morning!” and use your body language to communicate that you want to be as far away from the dog as possible. This could lead to a Discussion About Feelings, but Dog People should eventually understand which neighbors are Not Dog People.

Phone conversations in elevators are rude, but that doesn’t seem to stop people. Remember that elevator trips are finite. Remember, too, what your neighbor is talking about and ask them about it when you see them next. “I hope you were able to work out those carpool issues I heard you talking about last week” should raise an eyebrow, and awareness that an elevator is not a phone booth.

Etiquetteer sympathizes with those lost delivery staff, who just want to do their jobs, get a good tip, and not be double-parked too long outside. Direct them kindly to the correct floor or corridor (without escorting them there) and go about your business.

Just look at the turnout of all these courtroom spectators in Perry Mason.

In public spaces of a high-rise apartment, Etiquetteer believes you should be fully dressed. No, you don’t have to look like you just walked out of a Perry Mason courtroom*, but you should look like you’re ready for the day. That means no pajamas or bathrobes, no rags and tatters, no bare feet or slippers**, and no looking like you just rolled out of bed, even if you have, in fact, just rolled out of bed. This includes trips to the laundry room.

As to canoodling in the elevator, well, we know what to do about that! “I hope I’m not bothering you, we’re almost at my floor” ought to abash at least a few Amorous Couples. If not, a reference to the security cameras should***. If you’re feeling saucy and unthreatened, you could ask about their OnlyFans — but we all know that that is Not Actually Perfectly Proper.

Oh, and here’s your floor now.

More Perry Mason elegance. You don’t have to dress like this to take the elevator down for your mail, but it couldn’t hurt.

*Perry Mason, somehow, set the standard for pre-Vietnam War elegance.

**Espadrilles or furlane make elegant exceptions, as they dress up any lounging-around clothes.

***Make sure your building has them first.

Museum Tours and Tour Guides, Vol. 22, Issue 40

Dear Etiquetteer:

I hope this missive finds you well! As an aficionado of museum tours, especially historical house museums, I would love to hear your thoughts on museum etiquette. I sometimes have the misfortune to be on tours with people who seemingly have no idea how to behave. What are the best ways to be a Perfectly Proper museum guest?

Dear Touring:

Your query resurfaced a long-repressed memory of touring the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, with an elderly lady one might expect to behave with Perfect Propriety. Having waited in line some time to enter the Blockbuster Exhibition of the Moment, she saw absolutely no problem with sitting on a flat granite Chinese tombstone only a few thousand years old. Reprimanded by the guard (“Don’t sit on the exhibits, ma’am!”), she still didn’t think it should be a problem and said so. Etiquetteer no longer wakes up screaming, but it was Most Embarrassing.

Etiquetteer appealed to an acquaintance in the house museum community to find out more about Issues With Tourists and got this: “[They] try to touch something in every single room, ask bigoted questions, and intentionally take photos of the guide when expressly requested not to.” This is probably just the tip of the iceberg.

From the Cittadella in Victoria, on the island of Gozo in Malta.

“Hands off!” is an easy issue to defend. Didn’t your parents ever teach you “Keep your hands to yourself?*” Museums large and small share the challenge of simultaneously preserving collections while making them available to a curious public. We learn through touch — especially, but not only, children — so of course people are going to be tempted to finger those velvet curtains, ancient stone walls, etc. Resist! Natural oils from hands degrade artifacts of all kinds, so it’s extremely important to restrain yourself. If a guide has to reprimand you, it’s your own fault.

“There’s no such thing as a stupid question” is quite simply untrue — unfortunately, because we learn by asking questions even more than by touch. Etiquetteer is sort of afraid to ask about the bigotry you’ve witnessed (but please contact Etiquetteer with examples). The charitable explanation is that people ask These Sorts of Questions out of ignorance. This is probably happening more, too, because previously repressed history is more openly incorporated into exhibitions. Tour guides are not just narrators but educators. This is their opportunity to educate, kindly but deftly and decisively. Having been in this position before, Etiquetteer knows what a challenge it is.

Photographs are a much thornier issue in the era of social media. Consent, as the children say nowadays, is sexy. And this means that if someone is going to be in a photo, you should ask permission first — and be prepared not to take the photo if someone declines. In some ways being photographed feels like a reasonable occupational hazard for tour guides, as guides — especially historic interpreters in costume — could be considered part of the museum’s experience. Is ending up in someone’s travel album a reasonable occupational hazard? Perhaps it isn’t when it’s social media and one risks getting tagged, either within one’s museum or shudder one’s individual accounts. If a request not to be photographed has been communicated and obviously disobeyed, the Miscreant Tourist should be requested to delete those photos. Guides may wish to request an official policy from their museum employers.

Finally, there is That Tourist who is too eager to share his/her own knowledge of the topic at hand. Etiquetteer knows the type well; sometimes it’s That Mr. Dimmick Who Thinks He Knows So Much. This happens for a few reasons, including a) blinding enthusiasm for the subject, b) a sincere wish to correct an error in the presentation, c) a malicious wish to upstage the guide and impress one’s own superiority on everyone else, and/or d) just plain ol’ Lack of Social Skills. Yesterday That Mr. Dimmick succumbed to types a) and b) on a “Nooks and Crannies” tour of Beauport — long a favorite destination, and with an absolutely wonderful guide of inexhaustible patience and knowledge. Sometimes, we need to be reminded not to interrupt and to hold questions until the end. Mr. Dimmick, are you listening?

Whether tourist or guide, Etiquetteer wishes you a safe, informative, and hands-off Museum Experience.

At Beauport, the Sleeper-McCann House. Notice the shoe covers over the shoes to preserve carpets and floor surfaces. When asked, wear them obediently.

*Sadly, Etiquetteer thinks that answer might now be “No.”

Flag Day, Vol. 22, Issue 39

“Always respect the flag of the United States. Do not handle it carelessly or use it frivolously. To do so is an offense to the good taste of everyone and a disservice to your country.” — from Eleanor Roosevelt’s Book of Common Sense Etiquette (1962)

June 14 being Flag Day, this is a Perfectly Proper opportunity for Etiquetteer to refresh you all on what is and isn’t Perfectly Proper concerning the Stars and Stripes. A few issues seem to pop up regularly because people either get fussy about other people’s behavior, or careless about their own.

Periodically a news story appears about a homeowner’s association being sued by a homeowner because a tattered American flag — not just a flag, but a tattered flag — was displayed on their property. Generally it’s discovered that the flag was associated with a deceased veteran, and the homeowner’s association loses the case. This is Perfectly Proper. The Freedom to Display the American Flag Act of 2005 was signed into law in 2006 to nip these disagreements in the bud. Fly your flag proudly, and if you have a problem with how someone else is displaying the flag at their own home, keep quiet.

That said, it is generally poor form to fly a tattered flag, and Etiquetteer would wish that families who cherish memories of beloved veterans would retire those flags to folded indoor display and fly a flag in good condition outside. When a flag does need to be retired from service, the only way to do so is by burning; the flag must never be cut, and its fabric must never be repurposed — for instance to patch clothes.

Uncovering one’s head is another civilian mark of respect for the flag that needs to be emphasized. Once it was only men who needed to uncover and hold their hats over their hearts when the flag passed by. Now, with greater calls for gender neutrality as well as near-universal wearing of baseball caps by all, everyone does, including you. Pleas of Bad Hair Days*, feelings of momentary inconvenience — it doesn’t matter. Stand at attention, remove your hat, and hold it over your heart with your right hand until the flag has passed by. Eleanor Roosevelt reminds us in her Book of Common Sense Etiquette that this must be done every time the flag passes by in a parade, no matter how many delegations fly one.

Finally, let’s consider the “frivolous” aspect of flag usage that Mrs. Roosevelt prohibits. In her book she says “The flag must never be used as a decoration on paper napkins**, clothing, draperies***, tablecloths, boxes, or on personal or business stationery.” She wrote that in 1962. Since that time, we have all seen (and perhaps worn) a wide variety of Stars-and-Stripes gear. Often designers skirt this rule by rearranging the elements so that their product doesn’t look exactly like the flag. This honors the letter of the rule more than its spirit, and while Etiquetteer isn’t going to condemn flag-style fashion, this is an opportunity to consider whether the symbolism of the flag is trivialized when adopted as a decorative motif. The most vulgar example has to be the American flag made of caviar in The Manchurian Candidate of 1962 (see above).

Of course true respect for the flag is shown much less by what we wear than how we behave as citizens: being intelligently informed about national affairs and voting in every election. Etiquetteer wishes you a Flag Day of Perfectly Proper thoughtful reflection.

*Remember when “bad hair day” became a cultural phenomenon in the 1990s?

**The idea of blowing one’s nose into an American flag couldn’t be more disrespectful, and we know very well that paper napkins often do double duty as tissues.

***Bunting, of course, is always Perfectly Proper, with the blue at the top, then white, then red.

Etiquetteer Dines Out, Vol. 22, Issue 38

Last night Etiquetteer very much enjoyed dining out with a friend who also enjoys French bistro fare, but the meal did not go entirely smoothly. Etiquetteer shares this with you in a spirit of solidarity; we have all had our dinner table mishaps. Etiquette is what gets us out of them.

This was one of those bistros with quaint white marble-topped tables that could be a little bit larger, where you get a small service plate, a tumbler, and one fork and one knife rolled in a napkin. That one knife serves for the butter as well as the meal; when this happens, take all of your portion of the butter at once so that you don’t have to put a soiled knife back in the butter. Placing the knife on the plate, Etiquetteer watched it slip off and slide underneath the feet of the diner at the next table to the far end of the wall. If it had been an Olympic ski jump, the Swedish judge would have awarded a 9.9. The waiter then brought a clean knife — to the innocent diner at the next table. His presentation of the new knife to Etiquetteer couldn’t have been more Perfectly Proper, but how embarrassing to have so many people involved.

The first course, oysters, offered no difficulty. Just remember to squirt your lemon over all your oysters at the beginning and return the shells upside down. But the second course, cailles frites*, offered more of a challenge. Because quail is so rare, it necessary to order it in memory of Babette’s cailles en sarcophage in Babette’s Feast. Gourmets already know that quail means tiny bones. As luck would have it, Etiquetteer drew a large tiny bone in the very first bite. And this was a bone that wanted to stick someplace painful no matter what! Throughout its extraction, Etiquetteer was conscious of hunching too far forward toward the plate, exactly opposite one’s training to Sit Up Straight No Matter What. “Bring the food to your face, not your face to the food!” But the quail was delicious — absolutely worth it — and any other bones were successfully avoided.

Etiquetteer doesn’t know who first captioned this photograph “Jackson Pollock’s Mother,” but it’s a Perfectly Proper description.

Finally, Etiquetteer was served a large profiterole for dessert, drenched in the most succulent chocolate sauce, but with only a spoon to defeat it. Profiteroles — a cream puff with ice cream inside — can feel awkward because they are so tall and compress so easily. Not only that, the tide of chocolate sauce could have lapped over the rim of the plate at any moment, and Etiquetteer was wearing a light seersucker suit that spots with the rain. It would have been very easy to leave dressed like Jackson Pollock’s Mother, since a napkin is not properly placed under the chin**. Extra care had to be taken gliding the bowl of the spoon over the rim of the plate to prevent drips.

Part of Perfect Propriety is projecting not just familiarity but “careless ease”*** with table manners. Etiquetteer shares all this with you to show that sometimes anxiety lurks underneath that projection, but that it can be overcome in the moment. Etiquetteer wishes you smooth dining with congenial companions.

*On the menu it was given as cail frit, which Etiquetteer understood to mean one fried quail, which was what was served. An online translation website, however, translated cail frit as “fried curd,” which might create difficulties for vegetarians being served an Unexpected Little Birdy.

**Etiquetteer has written more on this subject here.

***Lillian Eichler’s marvelous phrase.

Elbows, Vol. 22, Issue 37

1st: Every action done in company ought to be with some sign of respect to those that are present. — George Washington’s Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour in Company and Conversation

Dear Etiquetteer:

I started following you after your etiquette dinner at [Insert Name of Local University Here] and I’ve had a blast reading about the marriage between historical and current etiquette. In a conversation with my friend about your page, we talked about how I recognized that my partner and I were engrossed in conversation over dinner (the kind of conversation that makes you put your utensils down because you just want to keep talking) and as soon as our utensils came down our elbows came up. In my parents’ home country, elbows aren’t a big deal and I never understood why Americans were so particular about that. What’s the deal with elbows? Where does that come from?

Dear Elbowed:

“Keep your elbows off the table” is one of the earliest lessons in table manners American children learn, along with “sit up straight.” Etiquetteer remembers a college classmate sharing the story of her grandfather telling her to keep her elbow off the table “or you’ll hurt the table fairies!” Her rebellion was to beat the table with her elbows whenever he wasn’t looking.

Researching Attitudes About Elbows, however, Etiquetteer has uncovered what feels like a mild deception in etiquette education. While children are taught to keep their elbows off the table at all times, adults may, sometimes, rest their elbows on the table between courses. “Elbows are universally seen on tables in restaurants,” wrote Emily Post Herself in the first edition of Etiquette, “as it is impossible to make oneself heard above the music by one’s table companions . . . without leaning far forward.” In which case, one needs elbow support. But she also notes “. . . the tolerated elbow-on-table is used only on occasion and for a reason, and should neither be permitted to children nor practised in their presence.”

Etiquetteer has come to the conclusion that any American emphasis about elbows comes from wanting to avoid both the appearance of gluttony and inconvenience to other diners. An instructive little volume from the 1880s called Don’t! includes this admonition: “Don’t spread your elbows when you are cutting your meat. Keep your elbows close to your side.” This makes someone look like they’re trying to claim more than their fair share of the meat, and of the table. If you’ve heard of manspreading on public transportation, this sounds like a dinner-table version of manspreading. Tiffany’s Table Manners for Teen-Agers explains it better: “Don’t stick your elbow out and raise your whole arm like a derrick.” That just looks like you’re greedy about your food, and it’s not a good impression to make on anyone.

Letitia Baldrige puts forward a sensible 21st-century attitude about elbows in her book New Manners for New Times: A Complete Guide to Etiquette: “It’s certainly all right to rest an elbow or two on the table between courses, because that’s a gesture that comes naturally to people engaged in animated conversation.” Just as you wrote you and your partner were doing at dinner! But Tish clarifies “While you are eating, though, it’s best to keep elbow off the table.”

For even more on the subject, Southern Living just published an interview on the subject with author Margaret Visser. It’s worth your time. Bon appétit!

The Liquor Cabinet at Home, Vol. 22, Issue 36

Dear Etiquetteer:

Is it ostentatious to openly display one’s liquor collection? My husband believes it is a fine, adult (and perhaps) classy thing to display one’s liquor in a glass case for all to see. What is your opinion on this matter?

Dear Liquored:

Unless it’s a bottle of Louis XIII cognac, which comes in its own crystal decanter, Etiquetteer would encourage your husband to consider decanters only, and store other bottles nearby in a closed cabinet. It’s more discreet to display decanters than bottles, or at least to have decanters in the front row. But there’s more to consider than just that.

First, what impression do you want your home to make on visitors? Is alcohol incidental, essential, or the entire purpose of entertaining in your home? Making the bar a visual focus will have an impact. Consider what impact you want it to have, unexceptional or unavoidable. There are some surprising and imposing design suggestions online if you search for “at home liquor cabinet,” but for Etiquetteer, they suggest Hotel more than Home.

Before this goes any further, a liquor cabinet is different from a wine cellar. While wine cellars are traditionally out of view, sometimes serious wine connoisseurs may have large climate-controlled cellars built into their homes, even taking up entire dining room walls with glass doors. Etiquetteer has less an issue with this type of display because the wines are shelved with the corks facing forward, making the labels invisible. Do we really want to see the labels of all those liquor bottles?

Some people would say “Yes!” And it would be foolish not to acknowledge that there’s just one kind of liquor — gin, for instance. (At the moment Etiquetteer has four different types of gin tucked into the home bar: bourbon barrel gin, orange gin, forager’s gin, and ordinary gin, in a decanter.)

But a home is a home, not a Product Placement Opportunity. And a motley collection of liquor bottles, no matter how beautifully or innovatively or exuberantly designed, rarely looks best when grouped together. Decanters usefully and elegantly display one’s liquors; everything else can be kept either behind them, or hidden from view. Millicent Fenwick praised several decanter styles in her Vogue’s Book of Etiquette: “. . . there are, however, many lovely decanters: simple ones in plain glass, old or new; magnificent old ones, or brilliantly cut crystal; simpler old ones of white pressed glass or of colored glass; modern ones of fine crystal, either plain or beautifully etched.” Perhaps this is a gift idea for your husband’s next milestone?

She goes on to suggest hanging labels of silver, china, or enamel “with a stout chain in proportion to the size of the label.” Etiquetteer uses neither, but tiny chalkboards on twine loops, designed to be used as napkin rings, a gift from a friend years ago. Not, perhaps, elegant, but a happy memory — and don’t we want to cultivate happy memories in our homes?

In general though, Etiquetteer thinks it best not to display something that isn’t going to be offered to anyone who sees it (Louis XIII cognac always being the exception). Keeping your liquor out of sight will keep your guests from helping themselves, too. Never forget the words of the late Max Fabian: “Don’t forget I’m the host. I got to get home before my guests start stealing the liquor!”

Etiquetteer wishes you many happy gatherings at home.

Graduation Gifts, or Not, Vol. 22, Issue 35

Dear Etiquetteer:

My sister-in-law and my brother do not communicate with our family but she is on [Insert Social Media Platform Here]. I have sent my nephew cards and cash for holidays and birthdays for many years with no thank-you or acknowledgment. He started sending me thank-you emails this year, 2023. My sister sent me screen shots of my nephew graduating from middle school and should we send a gift? This family has totally ignored our family, even coming out to visit and not making any attempt to visit us. My brother’s wife does interact with my sister. Not even a phone call from my nephew. I’m not inclined to send a gift. How can I respond to my sister without sounding resentful? I’m thinking of just saying I am not planning on sending a gift.

Dear Auntagonistic:

Why correspond with any of your relatives about this at all? The relationship is between you and your nephew, and a high school graduation is a symbolic time to begin to have direct interactions with younger relatives — without their parents as intermediaries. That your nephew has started to acknowledge your generosity this year is an encouraging sign; based on that, Etiquetteer would encourage you to consider a modest gift — perhaps stationery, to make a point, with “I hope to hear from you more often” in the text of your Lovely Note. But if your feelings just don’t let you stretch your generosity that far, best to send only a Heartfelt Note of Congratulations.

All that said, gifts should not be given with the expectation of thanks (even though we do expect it) but with the desire to please the recipient. (Gifts that the recipient does not desire should prompt them to consider what the giver wanted to express and to consider their own position of privilege. Recipients need to understand that the desire to please is the most important part of this, not actually pleasing.)

The larger question is, how much of a relationship do you want to have with your brother’s family in general, and your sister-in-law specifically? Your tone makes Etiquetteer think, well, not much. Suppose you did just send a Lovely Note of Congratulations without a gift, and your sister-in-law complained to you (or your sister) about it. Rather than be cowed into sending a gift after all, it’s then time to have a Discussion About Feelings. Always with an air of Infinite Regret, cite specific examples of how your sister-in-law’s disinterest in your family has led you to believe that she only values you for your generosity toward her children — from whom you have heard directly only once in the many years that you’ve sent gifts. Explain kindly that you need to direct your emotional and financial largesse where it’s truly appreciated.

To keep this from becoming a full-blown feud, you need to maintain that air of Infinite Regret — don’t lose your cool — and keep the focus on how your sister-in-law’s actions (and inactions) have impacted you. Etiquetteer wishes you clearer air and strengthened family ties.

***

Erty-farf years ago Etiquetteer graduated from high school, and received many gifts from relatives and friends of the family. The most memorable was a giant clothespin, a desktop device to organize bills, engraved with the legend “Just when you start to make ends meet, they move the ends!” But of all the engraved pens (all sadly lost), books, checks and other things received, the most useful and used has been a traveling nail kit from the local drugstore. To this day it doesn’t fail to conjure an image of the giver. Which just goes to show, you never know what sort of gift is really going to make a lasting impact.

Netiquette, Vol. 22, Issue 34

Dear Etiquetteer:

A question of web etiquette has arisen and I’d appreciate your feedback. Estranged Cousin, who lives in Distant State, has distanced himself voluntarily from our family life. He’s had a stormy marital life and left his wife and children to fend for themselves to marry another woman in Distant State. This was the basis of his estrangement from his parents and the rest of us. That marriage is also over.

I maintain a limited relationship with Estranged Cousin, consisting only of occasional comments and messages through Facebook. He recently added a concerning post to his Facebook page. The gist of the post was that he only supports marriage that was envisioned by God, that is, a marriage of one man and one woman.

I am a man and my husband and I invited God into our relationship when we married sacramentally in a wedding mass. Every day I see God in my marriage. I sent a message saying this to Estranged Cousin and received a message that he loves and prays for his whole family, including the two of us. While, as a religious person, I appreciate prayers from anyone, I feel I have to keep Estranged Cousin at more of a distance to protect myself and my husband. I have removed him as a “Friend.” I don’t want to engage him further and feel my prophetic witness that two men can be married should have been a sufficient example to stave off his Facebook post.

Do you feel my response was measured and appropriate?

Dear Thoughtful:

Certainly you recognized that confronting this relative with his own marital behavior was unlikely to change his viewpoint. Observing to him that God’s vision of marriage was not one man and one woman at a time to suit the inclination of the man might make good television drama, but seldom satisfies in real life. Etiquetteer commends you for giving him an opportunity to respond, though, by calling his attention to your own marriage. His response justifies your unfriending him.

Friending and unfriending on social media can still feel very emotional, especially when an unfriending is unexpected. At its most neutral, an unfriending says that someone does not prefer to interact with you on that social media platform, possibly leaving open other means of communications — for instance, other social media platforms, the telephone, pen and paper, or even gasp in person. Because this person is family, you may choose to confine him to your holiday card list. Otherwise, Etiquetteer considers that you’ve done due diligence and you are now free to cultivate more supportive relatives and friends.

Dear Etiquetteer:

I feel like I’ve gotten myself into an awkward situation with an online friend who I seem to have developed feelings for. I suppose celebrities have to deal with this all the time, but this is just a person. We don’t interact as much as we used to and I am worried that this person is pulling away from me right as I want to be more and more involved. But I feel like actually saying this sounds needy and will push this person away even more. How do I get through this? Help!

Dear Infatuated:

As Whoopi Goldberg so memorably said in Ghost, “You in danger, girl.”

You are not going to like this, but Etiquetteer encourages you to pull away from this online friend and allow these intense feelings to evaporate. Although you don’t go into much detail — whether or not you’ve met in person, the nature of your online friendship, etc. — that you are even suggesting this person’s lack of interaction has anything to do with you is a warning sign. More likely this person is just having a busier daily life than usual and pulling back overall — and that’s not about you.

You’re right, though, that need is unattractive. Your online friend is more likely to feel annoyance or pity than affection if you approach with anxiety about this. It’s time for you to take a break and refocus onto another online platform, your offline life, cultivating in-person relationships that could be platonic or romantic. And if you have a real-life confidante (or a professional therapist), talk about this with them. The old proverb is true: “A trouble shared is a trouble halved, but a joy shared is a joy doubled.”

Etiquetteer wishes you surcease from sorrow; please write again.