Many years ago, Dear Mother mailed Etiquetteer a curious accessory of her late father’s, a gentleman always conscious of his clothes and appearance. A small glass vial with a bulb at one end and a flared top, its purpose was to keep a gentleman’s boutonniere fresh throughout the day — a vase for one’s lapel. Alas, Etiquetteer never got to use it; it was too fragile to survive postage.
Inspired by an Instagram follower (you are following Etiquetteer on Instagram, yes?), Etiquetteer was actually able to purchase one on the internet. But what really IS the story with these posy pins? How did they get started, and are they really Perfectly Proper?
The Usual Suspects have kept mum on this item. Emily Post doesn’t breathe a word. In her first edition, the only references to boutonnieres have to do with weddings (the groom provides them), hunting (ladies should only wear a white carnation, a small bunch of violets, or nothing in their lapels), or evening clothes (only a white flower, please). She certainly doesn’t mention this contraption in her comments on a gentleman’s jewelry.
Nor does Millicent Fenwick in her Vogue’s Book of Etiquette, but about men’s jewelry she comments “The first rule . . . is that nothing should be worn that is not functional, with the single exception of a ring.” Etiquetteer accepts this as permission to posy pin away; its purpose is to keep the boutonniere fresh.
Etiquetteer really likes this little glass trinket, but current versions are more likely to be made of silver. Indeed, it seems the actor who played Hercule Poirot in a television series wore one, which has made them a bit of a fetish in the Agatha Christie community. More information about those may be found at Gentleman’s Gazette.
If you’re going to attempt wearing this delightfully dandyish accessory, Etiquetteer recommends you:
Make sure your buttonhole is open and unobstructed. It gets tricky inserting that pin into a buttonhole sewn shut. You might even want to put it in before you put on your jacket.
Use an eye dropper to fill it, to keep from having to dry the exterior. Don’t overfill.
Stem length makes all the difference.
Boutonnieres faded away from daily life after World War II, like so much else. The last reference Etiquetteer can think of is Waldo Lydecker in Laura. A white carnation makes a perfect finishing touch for a gentleman in evening clothes, which Mrs. Post reminds us should be only black and white, including the flower. With the dress codes of Creative Black Tie and Festive Black Tie, etc., gentlemen have more opportunity for color. But remember what Auntie Mame told Agnes Gooch: “Put down that lime green at once, Agnes. You’re supposed to dominate it!”
Whatever this white flower is couldn’t be more Perfectly Proper in a pinch.
Nowadays the boutonniere gets used for special holidays (e.g. Remembrance Day poppies), for pallbearers, and especially for weddings. Etiquetteer can go along with colorful buttonholes for weddings, and even for weddings with relaxed dress codes*, but really . . . a boutonniere is an ornament for a lapel. To balance a flower in a shirt pocket, pin it to a suspender, or — heaven knows how — adhere it to a bare chest, though . . . somehow that feels more musical comedy than Perfect Propriety.
In closing, a boutonniere is not an all-you-can-eat salad bar. Keep it simple, and keep it lightweight so that your lapel doesn’t buckle.
A dandelion should be good for something besides bees and wine, but it wouldn’t be suitable for a formal occasion.
*Etiquetteer can just imagine how much this shocks you.