From the Daily Life of Etiquetteer, Vol. 17, Issue 13

Etiquetteer doesn't often discuss the personal difficulties of daily life in the city, but on a Not Good Very Bad Day some time ago* not one but two Tests of Perfect Propriety presented themselves. Candidly, Etiquetteer didn't quite come out of either of them with a passing grade.

Sometimes the most savory delights of the table are the riskiest to eat, and this particular day Etiquetteer was nearly conquered by a "Black and Bleu" cheeseburger while lunching at a Popular Sports Bar.** You know there's going to be trouble when, as soon as the burger is lifted from the plate, its cheesy contents begin dribbling away. Trouble transformed into a Structural Integrity Issue this time, when the patty began to slip out, largely because the cook had put a slick of iceberg lettuce under the patty instead of on top of it, where Perfect Propriety dictates it belongs.

The most expedient way out of this mess was to remove the lettuce as discreetly as possible, and then finish eating as quickly as possible. It might also have been less obtrusive simply to abandon the bun and attack the burger with knife and fork. Etiquetteer kept wondering what Consuelo Vanderbilt would have done, having learned to eat with her back anchored to an iron rod, her head secured to it with a metal hoop. She probably wouldn't have ordered a burger in the first place.

The second situation could have been tragic. While waiting for the lights to turn at a busy intersection, Etiquetteer witnessed a Young Woman slurping on a gigantic soda walk into traffic despite the Unavoidably Obvious Don't Walk Sign. She made it through one lane, but then was nearly hit by a car! A driver had to stop short to avoid hitting her, missing her by only a few inches. Etiquetteer was enraged - not only that this Young Woman walked out into traffic in the first place, but that she clearly had no concern about the impact her actions had on others. So upset was Etiquetteer that words just popped out: "The sign said Don't Walk!" She smirked and walked on, leaving Etiquetteer to wonder when the Darwin Awards would next be given out, and whether or not she'd be a nominee. That said, it's Most Improper to comment on the behavior of strangers in public. This was one occasion when Etiquetteer didn't set the most Perfectly Proper example.

*"All right, maybe it was quite a few years ago," as Norma Desmond might say. Etiquetteer can refer to it now because the emotional scars have healed.

**Etiquetteer can just hear himself saying "We don't have these problems at the opera," but then there's no Popular Opera Bar nearby with a cheeseburger for lunch, either.

Washington's Outdated "Rules of Civility," Vol. 17, Issue 12

To celebrate the February 22 birthday of the Father of Our Country, Etiquetteer returned to George Washington's own books of manners, George Washington's Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour in Company and Conversation. While Etiquetteer has discoursed on this subject before, to refresh Washington's rules for the 21st century, this time it was worth reviewing to see what no longer applies to Perfect Propriety in daily life.

Take two rules that have to do with hats - how they're doffed to show respect, and then replaced. No. 26 reads "In pulling off your hat to persons of distinction, as noblemen, justices, churchmen, &c, make a reverence, bowing more or less according to the custom of the better bred . . . " Aside from Sondheim's famous observation in Company ("Does anyone really still wear a hat?"), "persons of distinction" today no longer appear to consider such gestures important, nor would others understand them. No. 27 is all about who can direct people to put their hats back on, and when. Really people, we have so moved on from that.

Hats pop up again in No. 85: "In company of those of higher quality than yourself, speak not until you are asked a question, then stand upright, put on your hat [emphasis Etiquetteer's], & answer in few words." That would be a curious ceremony indeed today!

Then there's a whole slew of rules about precedence - how to give place to those "in dignity or in office" - in speech, in one's home, and even on the street, as in No. 30: "In walking, the highest place in most countries seems to be on the right hand, therefore, place yourself on the left of him whom you desire to honour; but if three walk together, the mid place is the most honorable; the wall is usually give to the most worthy if two walk together." Precedence in the 21st century has become so much simpler: it's by age and, in the workplace, rank (regardless of gender). And besides, none of this takes into account on which side someone's deaf ear might be.

Etiquetteer will conclude with No. 40, "Strive not with your superiors in argument, but always submit your judgment to others with modesty." Umm . . . no. While it's important to know when you've lost, Etiquetteer would encourage citizens to continue to, as the phrase is today, "speak Truth to Power." The trick, of course is to do so in such a way that one's points are heard, absorbed, and given due consideration. That is not always done best with "striving," but with subtlety.

One might think, reading this, that all Washington's maxims were out of date, but not so! The wisdom and consideration of Washington continues to be relevant to 21st century behavior.

Etiquetteer would like to wish you a Perfectly Proper Washington's birthday. Drink something with a cherry in it to celebrate.

Etiquetteer Shakes Up a Colony Special Martini, Vol. 17, Issue 11

Etiquetteer has been enjoying Iles Brody's somewhat florid The Colony: Portrait of a Restaurant - and Its Famous Recipes, and particularly his account of the creation of its signature cocktail, the Colony Special. To mitigate the rotgut taste of Prohibition gin, barman Marco Hattem added a dash of absinthe to every martini, and then shook rather than stirred it. Conventional wisdom had it that a shaken martini could not come out clear, but for Hattem they did.

So Etiquetteer experimented with the Perfectly Proper ingredients and a shaker, using this recipe:

• Four parts gin.
• One part dry vermouth.
• One dash absinthe.
• Pour into ice-filled cocktail shaker and "shake merrily" as Iles Brody instructs.
• Strain into martini glass, add a twist of lemon, and serve.

Watch how Etiquetteer (almost, maybe) did it here:

The result, while perhaps a shade cloudy, eventually cleared. And the absinthe adds a fresh, vaguely bitter note that's far from displeasing.

Enjoy! And as Doris Day memorably said in Romance on the High Seas, "À votre santé!"

The Grand Presidential Party of 1862, Vol. 17, Issue 10

In honor of Abraham Lincoln's birthday February 12, rather than review the hoary old chestnuts about his strict honesty, humble upbringing, and stirring eloquence, Etiquetteer would rather look at the most glittering social event of his administration, the Grand Presidential Party of February 5, 1862. Of the many nighs to remember in the history of the White House, it proved that no matter what's done in the White House, some loud group of people will be displeased with it.

Mary Lincoln proposed an extra-large evening reception as a subsititute for a series of "stupid state dinners" as a gesture of economy and, perhaps, as a way to show off a spectacularly refurbished White House with a bit less wear and tear. But to change existing social forms, one has to be in an unassailable social position oneself. And Mary Lincoln was not in such a position, looked down on (somewhat unjustly) as an uncultured Westerner by the cave dwellers of Washington society. She wanted both to display her good taste in the redecoration of the Executive Mansion, and also snub some of her detractors by keeping them off the guest lists. The President's secretary John Nicolay wrote a lady friend "Half the city is jubilant at being invited, while the other half is furious at being left out in the cold." So often in official entertaining one has to put aside one's personal dislikes to be gracious - "suck it up," as is said today. Mary was often unwilling to "suck it up," but even so her great Washington rival Kate Chase was there, without any attendant social fireworks.

What sort of etiquette problems attend on an official event like this? What to wear is always a consideration, of course, but this time Mrs. Lincoln had to consider how to acknowledge the recent death of Prince Albert, consort to Queen Victoria. Mary chose half-mourning since the British ambassador would be attending, dressing in white satin trimmed with black, and with white and purple flowers in her hair. One account says she wore "an expensive array of pearl jewelry," maybe the parure of seed pearls given to her by the President. Another says that she wore no jewelry but a string of pearls, which would be more in keeping with mourning restraint.

Fashions were also changing in favor of longer trains and lower décolletage. Mrs. Lincoln, by then a matron and what would now be called "a lady of a certain age," would be nothing if not fashionable, but filled in her low neck with a garland of crape myrtle. Even so, there were those who felt she was not dressed with Perfect Propriety. One senator from the West wrote that ". . . the weak-minded Mrs. Lincoln had her bosom on exhibition and a flowerpot on her head.*" Even the President made a couple cracks before they went down to their guests. "Whew! Our cat has a long tail to-night . . . Mother, it is my opinion, if some of that tail was nearer the head, it would be in better style.**"

Grace under pressure, the motto of official entertaining, had an extra layer of meaning for the Lincolns with a very sick son upstairs in bed. At different points in the evening one or the other of them went upstairs to check on Willie, but without betraying to their guests that anything was amiss***.

Grace under pressure also means not betraying that anything is amiss even when it very obviously is. When it was time for the supper to be served, the promenade ended up halting at the door to the State Dining Room because it was locked! (No doubt to keep hungry guests from jumping the line.) Oops . . . but there were no reports of Mrs. Lincoln losing her cool over this serious breach of preparedness. It was General McClellan who had to keep his cool instead. While the steward fumbled for his keys, restive catcalls from the back of the line came: "I am in favor of a forward movement!" "An advance to the front is only retarded by the imbecility of commanders!****" As these were direct commentaries on McClellan's leadership of the Union army, he might have been expected to turn red or turn tail, but he kept his head and his good humor.

These days at evening parties the custom is for refreshments to be available from the very beginning. In the 1800s, particularly at balls, a supper would be served about halfway through the party (hence the promenade on this occasion ending in the dining room). Mrs. Lincoln engaged Henri Maillard, a top-flight New York caterer, to manage this supper, and the State Dining Room was full of enormous set-pieces of food, including a sugar replica of Andrew Jackson's home the Hermitage. So many good, costly, and showy foods were offered, though, that the First Lady endured a lot of criticism afterward. How respectful could the Administration feel toward the brave boys in blue, suffering the field, to carry on so?

So Mrs. Lincoln gave the largest party of her White House years, with the additional burden of a sick child, and got almost nothing but grief for it. But on the night itself, the Grand Presidential Party was considered a radiant success. Etiquetteer has seen so often that a guest's opinion of a party will start to brown and curdle after about three weeks. For Mrs. Lincoln, recollection of the night itself, and what her guests said to her then, may have been treasures she kept close to her heart long afterward.

*Senator James Nesmith, quoted in James B. Conroy's fascinating Lincoln's White House The Poeple's House in Wartime.

**Quoted in Daniel Mark Epstein's The Lincolns: Portrait of a Marriage.

*** Students of history will recall the struggles of Tsar Nicholas II and Tsarina Alexandra, entertaining Polish nobles at Spala while their hemophiliac son Alexis writhed in pain on his bed after an accident.

**** Quoted in Daniel Mark Epstein's The Lincolns: Portrait of a Marriage.

Random Queries, Vol. 17, Issue 9

Dear Etiquetteer:

How can black bridesmaids' dresses be outlawed?

Dear Outlawing:

We live in a nation of freedoms, which has many undeniable advantages. Alas, one of them is not Freedom from - well, Etiquetteer won't say Bad Taste, but Unconsidered Taste. Were Good Taste to be legislated, we would no longer be a Nation of the Free. Etiquetteer considers that a better approach is for the Perfectly Proper to set the Best Example through their own daily lives. Etiquetteer rather feels that the fashion for Bridesmaids in Black is already passing, much as other bridal fashions have. And the sooner the better.

Dear Etiquetteer:

Not long ago at a party someone became fascinated by my perfume and kept asking me what it was. Aside from feeling that the question was inappropriate, I always thought a lady never told what her perfume was. Am I right?

Dear Scented:

Before addressing your sensibly query, allow Etiquetteer to observe that the word perfume is considered "Non-U" but the word scent is "U." You may want to check out the glossary of U and Non-U words for Handy Future Reference.

Traditionally a lady never reveals her scent because it deprives her of mystery. This would also imply that one doesn't wear enough that it might be identified. A Perfectly Proper scent calls attention to its wearer, not to itself.

The question within your query, though, is whether or not someone should even ask what one's scent is. After consideration, Etiquetteer is inclined to say not. This is in no small part because it might lead one to fret that one has put on too much and smells like a House of Ill Fame. Just consider poor Charlotte Vale in the novel Now Voyager, writhing in agony when Jerry notices that she is wearing the scent he gave her. Poor, poor Charlotte . . . so no, this is not the sort of question a gentleman asks a lady, nor is it the sort that one confirmed bachelor asks another.

New Neighbors, Vol. 17, Issue 8

Dear Etiquetteer:

My husband and I recently moved into a house in a small, and what we understand to be a relatively close-knit, neighborhood. In an earlier era neighbors might introduce themselves to newcomers with the stereotypical casserole or pie, but that era has passed. Accepting this, but wanting to be friendly neighbors, what might be a Perfectly Proper way(s) for us to take the initiative and introduce ourselves other than waiting for random chance such as shoveling snow at the same time? Or are proactive gestures considered too intrusive today, and waiting for
shoveling-type scenarios is the wiser course?

Dear Moved:

Etiquetteer was about to say that queries like yours recalled the days of the Welcome Wagon, when the burden of introductions fell on established residents rather than on newcomers. But when you read the history, that turns out to be a wee bit mythical; the Welcome Wagon hostesses weren't actually neighbors, but paid employees of Welcome Wagon International. So never mind about that. Back in the Dear Dead Days Beyond Recall, when visiting cards were in use, it was expected that established residents would pay a first call (also known as "leaving cards") on new neighbors, and that those calls would be returned within a limited time frame, usually something like a week. (And if no further acquaintance was desired after these initial introductions, so be it.)

Etiquetteer thinks you are wise to take the initiative now rather than waiting to be thrown together during a weather-related crisis. One thinks of the English guests of the Pensione Bertolini in Forster's A Room With a View, of whom he wrote "Generally at a pension people looked them over for a day or two before speaking, and often did not find out that they would 'do' till they had gone." In urban environments in can take years to meet neighbors, and then more years to get on speaking terms. What's that Old Joke about the two Englishmen marooned on an island for three years, who never spoke to each other because they hadn't been properly introduced?

We can do better than that. And since you recognize that waiting for a line of casseroles at your front door is No Longer the Way, we're off to a good start. Finding a balance between being considered pushing and standoffish is the real key here. Present, but not omnipresent. Pleasant, but not obsequious.

Here dog owners have the advantage. Doggie's walk four or five times a day will inevitably invite Sociable Contact with Other Dogs and Their Owners. If you have a dog, you've won half the battle already. If not, instituting a Daily Constitutional at l'heure des chiens may create an opening for you. It helps enormously if you like dogs. Otherwise, grin and bear it until you've met your neighbors, then change your walking hours.

The first time you and a new neighbor make eye contact - while you're unloading the moving van, even, or going out to the mailbox - walk over and introduce yourself. Be forthright, but not too famliiar. Invite them over for coffee once you're settled in. Ask about neighborhood hot spots and how to get engaged in the community. Ask about how long they've lived there and what they like about the neighborhood. So many people enjoy the thrill of power when appealed to, more likely than not your new neighbors will appreciate your initiative.

Otherwise, by all means bake the cakes yourself and bring one to your neighbors on each side of your new home. If the community is as close-knit as you say, the word will spread that the New People Will Do.

Etiquetteer wishes you and your husband a long, happy, and Perfectly Proper domestic life in your new home.