National Anthem Etiquette, Vol. 20, Issue 16

March 3 is observed as National Anthem Day because it was on this day in 1931 that Congress passed legislation to make “The Star Spangled Banner” the National Anthem*. Etiquetteer was rather surprised to discover how recent this was! In keeping with the day, let’s review what to do when it’s played.

Of all the 20th-century etiquette writers, Amy Vanderbilt** takes the most trouble in setting out National Anthem Perfect Propriety for civilians. She fearlessly tackles the fact that most people just can’t sing it. “The idea behind the mass singing of the Anthem is to stir a feeling of patriotism and unity. Fine voices aren’t essential. Enthusiastic, heart-warming, not half-hearted***, singing by everybody does proper honor.” If you can’t make that high note at the end, she wisely advises either singing an octave lower or just not singing those notes at all “and let the sopranos reach for them.” Sometimes there’s that one soprano that can sing it an octave higher; those occasions move Etiquetteer both to admiration and annoyance. Show off.

Gentlemen remove their hats; ladies do not. Everyone removes their baseball caps, men, women, and children. When gloves were more universally worn, Mrs. Vanderbilt had to make clear “When the occasion arises for one to salute the flag, a lady does not remove her gloves indoors or out since they are part of her costume. Neither does a military man remove his gloves to salute.”

Mrs. Vanderbilt also emphasized something most of us have forgotten: when the National Anthem is played in public, you stop whatever you are doing and stand at attention until the last note. If you’re at a ball game or a concert and haven’t reached your seats yet, you stand where you are in the aisle until it is finished. She specifies that no one should be chewing gum, eating, or smoking during the Anthem; Etiquetteer would add drinking. You stand up right away when the National Anthem is played**** “unless you are exceedingly infirm or very, very old, or else so young that you cannot be expected to understand the significance.” In the intervening years, etiquette has evolved to show more compassion to the Differently Abled, so that the announcement “Those who are able may stand” is heard at churches and many other public events.

In the last few years civil protest has led a growing number to kneel instead of stand during the National Anthem. Initiated September 1, 2016, by football player Colin Kaepernick, “taking a knee” is seen as a protest against racism and police brutality. Because it is a civil protest*****, without violence and without preventing anyone else from standing and singing, it is Perfectly Proper. It’s an understatement to say that not everyone agrees with this, but as Etiquetteer said last year, "Protest is what happens when Manners aren’t enough.” Frankly, Etiquetteer found Roseanne Barr’s casual, crotch-grabbing rendition in 1990 Truly Disrespectful and Offensive. Taking a knee is certainly more respectful than that.

Even back in 1963 Amy Vanderbilt acknowledged that not everyone liked “The Star Spangled Banner,” “which you may not like as music or for what are called, by some, its chauvinistic lyrics.” Today many people interpret some of the lyrics as racist, particularly the third verse. Etiquetteer has also heard from many who believe its lyrics glorify war, all the references to rockets and bombs. If you’d rather the United States pick another song as the official National Anthem, join the movement lobbying for “America the Beautiful” or start your own. But until that occurs, please continue standing and singing “The Star Spangled Banner,” or silently taking a knee in civil protest.

Unless you’re at home and you hear it played someplace else. Caspar Milquetoast would have done well to get together with Amy Vanderbilt.

Etiquetteer grew up with a large book of H.T. Webster cartoons on the family bookshelf, and couldn’t help but remember this one from “The Timid Soul.” You can sit down now, Caspar!

*President Hoover signed the legislation the next day, March 4. You may read the Wikipedia history for all the details.

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

***Dear friends may remember That Mr. Dimmick’s frequent quoting of John Wesley’s Directions for Singing: “Sing lustily and with good courage. Beware of singing as if you were half dead, or half asleep; but lift up your voice with strength. Be no more afraid of your voice now, nor more ashamed of its being heard, than when you sung the songs of Satan.”

****At most sporting events the audience is usually prompted with a helpful “And now, please rise for the singing of our National Anthem.”

*****Etiquetter prefers this definition of civil protest from the University of Arkansas at Little Rock: “A civil protest will usually take the form of an organized public demonstration of disapproval or display disagreement with an idea or course of action.” In this case, the ideas being protested as racism and police brutality.

Pandemic Politeness: One Year Later, Vol. 20, Issue 15

Etiquetteer was just reflecting morosely over the morning coffee that today and tomorrow mark what turned out to be Etiquetteer’s Last Hurrah before the pandemic quarantine Changed Everything. That joyful occasion was the Leap Day Pink Tea celebrating the 40th birthday of the History Project, in the front room at a favorite restaurant, Carrie Nation. Who would think that a late afternoon cocktail party for 70 or so people would become an extinct social form?

The pandemic has brought numerous challenges to Perfect Propriety on every front: grieving, childcare, dating, social distancing (especially interacting with those who have opposing views), the Zoom meeting vs. the Zoom party, adapting (or not) to technology, worship, grooming, dining out, tipping, what we wear (or don’t, whether it’s pants or a face mask) — and now vaccine status (on which Etiquetteer will have more to say in a future column). Not everyone is meeting this daunting set of challenges with Perfect Propriety, or even wants to.

Today Etiquetteer is feeling most the slow fading away of relationships outside the core circle. The people you saw only on vacation, or in the coffee line, or at a favorite restaurant. The people whose theatre subscriptions were on the same night as yours, or that you could count on seeing every year at that one charity event. Maybe it’s because the Leap Day Pink Tea was just a year ago that this is top of mind today; Etiquetteer has only seen two of the people from that party in person since then.

It feels different to maintain these impromptu or annual interactions in other ways — self-conscious in a way. But etiquette has to adapt, especially now, and that might mean messaging via social media, or a good old-fashioned Perfectly Proper Lovely Note. The post office used to declare April National Card and Letter Writing Month; even if they stopped, there’s no reason for us not to make a special effort to reach out with pen and ink then — or even now!

How is everyone coping? Etiquetteer continues to block and delete trolls rather than engage with them, refrains from reading the comments section of 98% of news stories, remains very cautious about social distancing, and has created daily and weekly anchors. The daily includes 15-30 minutes of reading in the morning and the 5 PM cocktail hour. For the weekly, Etiquetteer enjoys a Friday Facetime with a core group and a Sunday check-in with an out-of-state friend. Not least, the Dress Dinner Challenge is an opportunity to remember what a Perfectly Proper dinner can be, test a few new recipes, and keep the good stuff from feeling neglected in the pantry.

One year in, you may still have questions of Pandemic Perfect Propriety, with new or challenging situations you didn’t think possible a year ago. Please take the time to let Etiquetteer know what that might be, for a column very soon. Use that same link if so inclined to share how you’re coping with the pandemic yourself. We all have much to learn, and share.

Etiquetteer wishes you Health, Safety, Patience, and Perfect Propriety as this pandemic adventure continues.

New Neighbors, Vol. 20, Issue 14

Dear Etiquetteer:

My husband and I may have found the perfect condo unit for us, and we would like to make an offer to purchase it. Should we tell our friends who live down the hall from the new unit that we are going to make an offer? They are nice folks who we see socially a couple times per year, but aren’t what I would call close friends (though I’m pleased at the prospects of getting to know them better). We don’t want to appear to be moving into their turf or want to make them feel like we will be demanding more of their time. What’s the best way to handle this situation before we commit to buying the unit?

Dear Moving:

It’s very considerate of you to think about how this might impact others, and Etiquetteer commends you. Rather than present your move as a fait accompli (“Surprise, we’re you’re new neighbors! May I borrow a cup of sugar and your vacuum cleaner?”), you might approach them now with the news that you’re considering moving down the hall, and ask them about how much they’ve enjoyed living where they are. They could turn out to be a very helpful source of knowledge about building and neighborhood life, as well as insider information your realtor might not be in a position to know. (But let them offer it; don’t go digging at first.)

Should you move there, of course you’ll include them in any getting-to-know-you gathering you hold for other neighbors once you’ve settled in*, and respond with a Lovely Note to any welcome-to-the-building gesture they make; somehow one always thinks of casseroles and wine in association with new neighbors. Progressing from Acquaintance to Neighbor needn’t involve any change in your relationship beyond hallway and holiday card greetings. It’s entirely possible that you may discover more common interests and end up spending more time together, but it’s also Perfectly Proper if you don’t. “Maintaining one’s reserve” doesn’t have to be stuffy.

Etiquetteer wishes you success and contentment whoever your new neighbors turn out to be.

*Always remembering necessary COVID restrictions while they are needed.

Celebrating Washington's Birthday, Vol. 20, Issue 13

“All human gods have feet of clay.” — Etiquetteer

Today, February 22, is the Actual Birthday of George Washington, now observed nationally as Presidents Day* with that of Abraham Lincoln (February 12) and all American Presidents . . . or not, depending on one’s preference. A Dear Friend’s recent comment that the colonists took to celebrating Washington’s Birthday as an anti-monarchical gesture (instead of celebrating the King’s birthday) led Etiquetteer down the rabbit hole to discover just how Washington’s Birthday had been observed in the past.

Some quick recent history: Washington’s Birthday as its own unique identity officially began to fade in 1968 with the passing of the Monday Holiday Law, “to provide uniform annual observances of certain legal public holidays on Mondays.” Lincoln’s Birthday (February 12) was soon added to the iconography of the holiday**, and from there it was only a hop and a skip to sales events for appliances and automobiles. The Monday Holiday Law may have made holiday observance more uniform, but the result has been to deprive most of them of their uniqueness.

Historian Carl Anthony published a remarkable blog post in 2014 covering the most essential history; read it right now before continuing here. He teaches us about the evolution of The Birthday from 1791, when a splendid Birthnight Ball and other festivities took place, to 2014. He especially observes the acid discomfort of both Abigail and John Adams as Washington’s Birthday continued to be observed after Washington left office . . . but nothing was done to honor the birthday of the sitting President, Adams Himself.

Washington’s Birthday got a fresh burst of popularity for his centennial in 1832, which included a reading of his famous Farewell Address in the US Senate, a tradition which allegedly continues today, and at which Etiquetteer wants every Senator pays strict attention. Etiquetteer had never even heard of this observance; it’s probably one we should all emulate.

It’s interesting to note that even in this century many organizations will hold a ball in honor of Washington’s Birthday; Etiquetteer was surprised by the number of current results a Google search of “Washington’s Birthday Ball” yielded. It’s a fitting legacy, since Washington was famed for his dancing prowess***.

What might you do at home? Dame Curtsey’s Book of Novel Entertainments for Every Day of the Year gives us a turn-of-the-last-century flavor for Washington’s Birthday parties of the era. Her introduction to The Birthday gives us an idea of how far the holiday has fallen in cultural consciousness. “Perhaps the red-letter day of this month, so rich in anniversaries, is the one on which the Father of his Country first saw the light.” More than Valentine’s Day? Not now! She continues, “There is no family too poor in this world’s goods to recognize the day by at least hanging the American flag over the table. The patriotic spirit must be fostered in the home as well as in the school, and in keeping these days, the housemother is sowing seed that will bear fruit in years to come.” These days Pi Day (March 14, or 3.14) and Star Wars Day (May 4, or “May the Fourth Be With You”) get more coverage.

For Dame Curtsey’s parties, expect a lot of cherry-oriented refreshments, hatchet-shaped placecards, toy drums for centerpieces, and just about anything that can be made out of red, white, and blue paper. For entertainment, the Dame is big on guessing games and trivia contests, often with Washington-themed prizes like a picture of Mount Vernon or a copy of Irving’s Life of Washington.

Dame Curtsey shows us one family of four giving a party for 20 children. After a luncheon of cunning dishes****, “then for a half-hour the children listened to a very comprehensive story of the boyhood of Washington.” (Oh dear, Etiquetteer has already started to drift off . . . ) “This was told by the children’s father; and the mother told about Mount Vernon and the busy life of Martha looking after her household and her [enslaved] servants. The children of Mount Vernon were given a part in this tale, and the young guests gave rapt attention to charming true stories.”

Etiquetteer has grave doubts about that “rapt attention.” And in this century, Etiquetteer would be highly unlikely to include a half-hour lecture at a strictly social event.***** But Etiquetteer added that bracketed “[enslaved]” to point out that Washington’s full legacy is no longer off limits. We observe now the birthday not of a god who walked the earth, but of a man with deep flaws who became the leader of a new nation. Rather than ignore it, it’s most Perfectly Proper to learn more about the experience of slavery at Mount Vernon.

How will Etiquetteer observe the day? Simply, with a whiskey-oriented toast during the cocktail hour — possibly the Whiskey Rebellion cocktail suggested in Cocktail Hour Meets . . . a Presidential Election — and the rereading of a few passages from Henry Wiencek’s An Imperfect God: George Washington, His Slaves, and the Creation of America. However you choose to observe it, Etiquetteer wishes you a Perfectly Proper Washington’s Birthday.

*Officially there is no such thing as Presidents Day, only Washington’s Birthday observed on a Monday.

**Etiquetteer will always remember the red cardboard hearts featuring silhouettes of Lincoln and Washington that were essential schoolroom decorations of the 1970s.

***Interestingly, Marie Antoinette was considered most beautiful when she was in motion, especially dancing.

****Waldorf salad served inside hollowed-out apples with stacks of cottage cheese cannon balls, for instance.

*****We must always remember the Ogden Nash poem “The Voice of Experience,” that begins “A husband at a lecture//Twitches his architecture.”

Dress Dinner Challenge 2.4 Recap, 20 February, 2021

Really, this was a very simple little dinner, with just a thimble of sherry and a bit of celeri coupé in the parlor for the cocktail hour, and then this menu:

Poulet à la crème à l'estragon Courgettes sautées

Salade verte sans imagination

Gateu de Nancy

Last year I had attempted chicken with tarragon cream sauce from The New York Times Cookbook, from which I vaguely remembered that I would need to Pump Up the Herb; sometimes I require a heavy hand with the herb jar. At three different points the recipe calls for a quarter cup of liquid to be poured into the skillet: white wine, chicken broth, and then cream at the end. Because it said “high heat,” the broth especially kept evaporating long before I felt it ought to, so I just kept adding more broth. The result was an extra savory flavor. In the words of the late Edith Piaf, “Non, je ne regrette rien.”

Because I’m cooking for one, if the recipe calls for wine, whatever doesn’t go into the recipe goes into my glass at the table. And I must say I found a superb white Bordeaux, Chateau de Fontenille Grand Bordeaux 2016 with a lot of French in four typefaces after it. I’ll look for that again.

At this point even I can sauté a zucchini without getting anxious about it, and I had no whimsy to spare on a salad this particular night. I omitted a starch because the elves have been sneaking into my clothes closet at night and secretly shrinking all my suits. Naughty, naughty elves!

With Washington’s Birthday only a couple days after this dinner, it made sense to incorporate something into the menu that a) didn’t need a hatchet to chop it down, and b) wasn’t cherries, because a) cherries have been done enough, and b) I’m allergic to cherries anyway. Happily, the Mount Vernon website includes dozens of recipes related to Martha Washington’s fabled hospitality. I settled on the gateu de Nancy because it involved chocolate and almond meal, both of which I already had in the pantry.

The result was very much like a brownie pancake, not inedible, but not exciting. For this I blame myself, not the recipe. Two reasons: I really didn’t whip the egg whites until they were “stiff but not dry,” and I think the springform cake pan I used was perhaps a little wider than recommended. If I attempt this recipe again (not likely), I may use a ring mold, which was also recommended.

In the bon bon dish, I indulged with a few goodies from Louis Sherry, because who can forget Lucille Bremer exclaiming “Louis Sherry!” when Leon Ames brings home a box for Mary Astor in Meet Me in St. Louis. It’s easy to understand why they’re so sought after! The Turkish Coffee one is especially suitable after such a dinner.

Dress Dinner Challenge 2.3 Recap, February 13, 2021

With Valentine’s Day the next day, Etiquetteer returned to The Book of Lists for foods once considered aphrodisiacs. The resulting menu therefore includes caviar, lobster, and asparagus*:

Bachelor Cocktail, from Cocktail Hour Meets . . . a Presidential Election

Petite pommes de terre à la crème sure et au caviar

Homard Newburg Asperges

Salade à la chandelle

Gâteau Reine de Saba

The Bachelor, named for President James Buchanan, is a deliciously smoky concoction composed of tequila, amontillado sherry, Cointreau, and a bit of pineapple and lime juice. It’s best sipped slowly, and also works well as a highball with club soda if you feel it necessary to pace yourself.

Should have remembered the minced green onion, and added a parsley garnish for a livelier plate.

To work in the caviar (salmon roe was what the market had, but red for Valentine’s Day totally works), I remembered an hors d’oeuvre from Pirate’s Pantry involving hollowed new potatoes topped with sour cream and caviar. Rare for me to have an appetizer course — I like to spend the cocktail hour relaxing in the parlor before clashing pans — but prep time was just a bit too long for these to get to the table hot. Still tasty, but next time I won’t forget the minced green onion, or to tap a little salt and pepper inside the potatoes before filling.

I had never cooked lobster before, and this Lobster Newburg came out rather well for a first attempt. Once a dear friend and I were talking about tough recipes, and he confided that he was most afraid of the instruction “Bring to just under a boil.” Here it was very clear: DO NOT BOIL, HEAT GENTLY. This, of course, could take forever! But patience, James Cagney in The Public Enemy, and a few sips of pink champagne helped me stay the course. And I remembered to trim the asparagus to the size of the dinner plate, so that worked well.

That frill pick is definitely more flamelike than a pimiento.

For a candlelight dinner the night before Valentine’s Day, only candlelight salad would do. I first learned about this recipe from Jane and Michael Stern’s Square Meals, in which they described it as “the paradigm of cunning cuisine” and included it in a bridal shower menu. Looking at other photos on the internet, I could have used more mayonnaise for the melted wax. Never having thought a pimiento looked very flamelike, I substituted something more sparkly.

But the real hit of the evening was my first attempt at a Queen of Sheba cake in a heart-shaped cake pan I rediscovered in my cellar. Several suggested recipes came from Facebook readers (thank you all very kindly!) but this one from my friend Ric (a disciple of Julia Child) looked simple enough for me to achieve and also involved chocolate. The production comes in three stages: meringue, batter, and glaze. The cake broke in transferring from cake pan to cooling rack, but as Julia Herself famously said “When you’re alone in the kitchen, who’s to see?!” Because there wasn’t enough glaze to cover the sides, I ended up using sliced almonds to outline the cracks on the top — a broken heart. But any broken heart can be healed with chocolate! This cake was amazing. I couldn’t believe I made it!

It’s not unusual to serve only champagne through a formal dinner, and pink champagne seemed Perfectly Proper to serve with everything on the menu and for a Valentine’s dinner.

However you’re celebrating, Etiquetteer would like to wish you a Perfectly Proper Valentine’s Day!

*Other items include eel, garlic (never Perfectly Proper at a formal dinner), ginseng, honey, oysters, peaches (Etiquetteer is allergic, boo hoo), and truffles. Etiquetteer cannot understand why chocolate is not on this list.

Etiquetteer Reviews Dinner Diaries, Vol. 20, Issue 12

Some time ago a friend and reader passed on to Etiquetteer Daniel Cappello’s 2014 book Dinner Diaries: Reviving the Art of the Hostess Book. Of course anything with Jackie Kennedy on the cover is bound to be interesting, and this book doesn’t disappoint (except that there’s almost nothing in it about Jackie Herself). Part homage to childhood influences and inspirations, part hospitality survey of the New York/Palm Beach set, reading it almost one year into the pandemic has Etiquetteer both pining to have a dinner party at home again and remembering boyhood dreams of grand evenings.

“Special-occasion china, handwritten thank-you notes, and carefully executed table arrangements are just some of the delightful details that continue to make the dinner party such a joy,” Mr. Cappello writes. And of course he’s correct. Precisely because the details are delightful — Mr. Cappello and Etiquetteer are surely not the only ones who think so! — means the dinner party is not doomed. His accounts of dinners held by his parents, and his own participation in their preparation, will delight.

The survey section of Dinner Diaries yields memories, advice, and a few surprises from the intersection of fashion, journalism, and philanthropy that inhabits New York and Palm Beach. Centerpieces don’t always have to be flowers (we often forget that), but a giant cloud of black licorice cotton candy sounds . . . ominous. But for the sort of people who are always going to black-tie functions, Novelty is the cornerstone of a good party.*

Asked about favorite china and silver, responses run the gamut from specific patterns to “Inherited” and even “chipped.” Offered the choice between a “chic” dinner in the kitchen or “formal” in the dining room, the responses were almost evenly divided. One respondent gave what Etiquetteer considers the Perfectly Proper response: “formal dinner in the dining room — but casual attitude.” In other words, assurance.

This is what Lillian Eichler meant in Today’s Etiquette way back in 1940: “The new etiquette does not concern itself so much with the minor details of table conduct . . . but rather with that fine ease and poise at table that make even a blunder seem of no great consequence.” One respondent offered this rule for hosts: “Avoid perfectionism — the unexpected always makes for a great party.” And this really underscores how etiquette and its practice have changed in the last 60 years, from slavish devotion to form giving way to greater attention to consideration and kindness.

And now, Etiquetteer will take the Dinner Diaries survey:

What is the perfect number of guests? Between four and twelve for general conversation.

Chic dinner in the kitchen or formal in the dining room? Regardless of chic or formal — and those aren’t mutually exclusive — always in the dining room. I’m a messy cook, and guests shouldn’t have to look at that.

You were inspired to be a good hostess by:

• My mother, who was such a good cook and a welcoming presence.

• My Granny Dimmick, who loved having a crowd of people around.

• Emily Post, who described the atmosphere of a dinner party so well.

• Miss Mame Dennis, 3 Beekman Place — what more need be said?

Small talk: insulting waste of time or necessary social lubricant? Absolutely necessary, especially when meeting total strangers in someone’s home. Disinterest in breaking the ice just looks arrogant.

Your dream menu includes: Arancini or smoked salmon, peas, chocolate in almost any form.

The place setting: American style? European style? Your own style? When in Rome, dahling . . . !

Have you ever used a cocktail fork, or other obscure flatware, in your setting? No. Life is complicated enough as it is.

Buffet-style service, family style, or served? Served if there’s someone else to do the serving, please! Otherwise family style, buffet for a Poverty Pasta night.

Your favorite line of dinnerware: Inherited, or the Hayes State Dinner Service at the White House. That said, my mother’s wedding china — white with two narrow bands of gold scrolling — was really the epitome of 20th-century formal china.

Your favorite line of flatware: Inherited.

Lighting: candlesticks, candelabrum, or votives? Votives around the room, tall tapers on the table so that the flame is above the eye. Really, it’s high time pink candleshades came back into vogue . . .

What was the most memorable centerpiece you’ve seen or used? Small china chick egg cups, perfect to hold chocolate eggs for Easter dinner. And I remember one close-set bouquet of white roses with one orange rose just off center.

Seating arrangement: the classic alternating genders, or rules be damned? I prefer the traditional boy/girl/boy/girl seating plan, but not at the expense of good combinations or conversation.

Music: classical, moody, or favorite online playlist du jour? No music at all once the party is seated. It takes away from the conversation.

Coffee at the table or served in another room? No coffee. Port or liqueurs at the table — I’ve found that people often want to remain at table rather than return to the parlor after dinner.

What makes for a great guest? Punctuality and a willingness to interact with others. Someone who can help at the bar in a pinch if needed.

What makes for a bad guest? If I’m doing the cooking, too many dietary requirements (this doesn’t make them bad people, but my capacity is limited). Otherwise, someone who calls or texts for driving directions five minutes before the party starts when I’m finishing preparations.

Your favorite hostess gift to give: A Lovely Note the next day.

What is the number one rule every good host or hostess must remember? Roll with the punches and don’t show stress. What you’re feeling and projecting directly impacts how your guests feel and the mood of the party.

If you could invite one guest to your next dinner party, living or dead, who would it be? Among the dead, my first reaction is Cecil Beaton, but I’d be afraid of what he’d write in his diary the next day! Instead I’d have to say Alice Roosevelt Longworth, a political hostess who understood the value of good table talk. Among the living, Chasten and Pete Buttigeig.

No dinner party would be complete without: Laughter.

What was the greatest dinner party you ever threw? A buffet dinner for 22 one August at a little Vermont inn. There was one long table overlooking a pond in the garden, covered with hippie bedspreads in green, yellow, and white, lit with pillar candles in square glass blocks. A magical evening. Also the dinner my sister’s family and I threw for our parents’ 50th wedding anniversary: 80-something people, speeches, songs, and a replica of their wedding cake.

What was the greatest dinner party you ever attended? Every year for the last 28 years, New Year’s Eve at the home of dear friends: a T-shaped table exquisitely set, four courses, family style, two desserts, three wines, and the closest friends. Heaven.

Words to live and entertain by:

• “Give people one night in which everything seems enchanted. When all the women seem beautiful, all the men are handsome and everyone’s made to feel they’re amusing and, yes, liked. And then go home thinking ‘Oh, what fun it was! Oh, what a wonderful evening. How good it is to be alive.’” — Mrs. Dalloway screenplay

• “Look, we’ve made enchantment!” — Blanche DuBois, A Streetcar Named Desire

• “If I’m going to enjoy my supper, I’ve got to take off these tight shoes.” — Laura Hope Crews as Prudence in Camille

The End of Dinner, by Jules-Alexandre Grün

*Etiquetteer is fond of quoting Zippy the Pinhead, who famously said “Frivolity is a stern taskmaster.” But those are not words to live by.

Umbrella Etiquette, Vol. 20, Issue 11

The internet declared February 10 to be National Umbrella Day, which of course makes it Perfectly Proper to go over a few points of umbrella etiquette.

• When not in use, an umbrella should be held vertically close to your body by its handle. This is why Etiquetteer likes an umbrella with a hooked handle; it can be hung on one’s wrist and (mostly) forgotten. Holding it horizontally by the middle is a passive-aggressive way of hogging the space around you.

• It’s not a sword, dear, and you’re not in The Three Musketeers, Camelot, or Spamalot.

• What is supposed to happen when two umbrellas approach each other on a rainy sidewalk? At least one of them is going to have to “give ground” by rising a foot or two in the air to prevent a collision. It might as well be you; Etiquetteer doesn’t fancy a game of Umbrella Chicken when everyone is already preoccupied with staying dry in the rain.

• A wet umbrella is one of the more awkward things to carry when arriving at someone’s home. It’s courteous to give it a good shake outside before entering, to reduce the runoff. Hosts should have a Perfectly Proper umbrella stand, or even just a plain old bucket in an emergency, near the front door.

• Days of rain and wind are fatal to umbrellas. Perhaps you, like Etiquetteer, have had an umbrella “tulip” on you and completely invert? Sometimes it’s possible to position it in the wind so that it will gust back into shape, but usually not. If you end up with a broken umbrella in the rain, please don’t just throw it into the gutter with disgust. Find a trashcan and dispose of it properly.

It’s a cruel fact that the best umbrellas, the ones we love, always end up separated from us far too soon. Cast-off, slightly ratty, or broken but still functional umbrellas always seem to remain with us forever.

Arguably one of the most beautiful parasol demonstrations of the 20th century: Queen Elizabeth, when consort to George VI, photographed by Cecil Beaton. Another image here.

People sometimes mix up the terms “umbrella” and “parasol.” They have different purposes. Umbrellas* were designed to protect ladies against the rain. Parasols were designed to protect ladies against the sun; that means they aren’t always waterproof. In that respect the 19th century was the apogee of the parasol, and you need only look at some of the collection of Brandon McKinney, Parasol Restorer, on Facebook or Instagram to get an idea of what they were like.

And yes, that’s right — umbrellas were designed to be used by ladies. Gentlemen everywhere should be offering a toast* tonight to Jonas Hanway (1712-1786), the first man to use an umbrella, and who tolerated a lot of teasing and violence to do so. Just think, without Mr. Hanway, we’d never have ended up with Gene Kelly’s iconic music/dance masterpiece “Singin’ in the Rain.”

Jonas Hamway and his umbrella, paving the way for other gentlemen to keep dry.

*Umbrellas have an ancient and honorable history that includes many ceremonial and symbolic purposes. For this column Etiquetteer is really concentrating on the use of umbrellas in daily life since they were first introduced in Europe in the early 18th century.

**Whether that’s with a drink that has a little paper umbrella in it or not is entirely up to you.

Dress Dinner Challenge 2.2 Recap, February 6, 2021

This menu came about because a) I wanted to attempt one or two dishes given by Millicent Fenwick as part of a traditional dinner of ceremony, b) there was a bottle of champagne in the house, c) I didn’t want to forget hollandaise sauce again, and d) it had been a long time since I’d had asparagus. The results were, um, mixed:

Mort dans l'après-midi cocktail

Consommé regrettable

Saumon poché Timbale de riz brun

Asperges

Sauce Hollandaise à mixeur inoublié

Salade vert

Sorbet au chocolat aux framboises

There’s nothing so easy as a Death in the Afternoon: pour champagne into glass, pour absinthe slowly into champagne, and hey presto, it’s a cocktail! I should have remembered to serve a small dish of olives with it.

Only when setting the table did I discover that Dear Grandmother’s silver included an army of butter knives, but no soup spoons! There was nothing else to do but shine up an everyday soup spoon.

The consommé, alas, disappointed. The recipe called for one egg white and crushed eggshell per quart of stock. Combine it all, stir gradually, and all that egg business is supposed to form a “thick scum” on top (to capture any impurities in the stock). Instead, the whole thing ended up looking like egg drop soup gone off. After straining it through a very clean dishcloth into an earthenware bowl and then reheating, and adding a bit more salt, it still tasted like dishwater that couldn’t get up on its hind legs. Had I remembered to serve a little glass of sherry with it, it might have been better. I kept going back to Emily Post’s story of Mrs. Newwed, “How a Dinner Can Be Bungled,” and how she described the shock of seeing a plate of muddy soup that was supposed to be clear. Oh well, thank goodness there was more dinner to follow!

I am at least able to poach a piece of salmon without mishap now thanks to the pandemic, and it came out very nicely. The next time I serve asparagus on these plates, I’ll remember to trim them to plate size before cooking. In a true formal dinner the asparagus would be its own course following the entrée. I’ve perfected the blender Hollandaise by using just a bit more cayenne and a bit less lemon than recommended. (And it will accompany meals here for the next week there’s so much of it.)

The real success of the evening was that brown rice timbale. Timbales are nice for a formal presentation because they look so contained. This turned out tasty, and I can use the leftovers for arancini.

I almost forgot the salad, but I kept it in its traditional position following the main course, and then just chocolate sorbet and berries to finish off the meal.

Dinner was barely over before I had to change into something less dressy for a Zoom party (it’s so nice to get invited to a party these days!), during which I could enjoy conversation with my final glass of champagne. All in all, an evening with more hits than misses. Moral: leave consommé to the experts, confirm asparagus length before boiling, and roll with the punches.

Illegibility, Vol. 20, Issue 10

Dear Etiquetteer:

You’re the one always talking about how important “Lovely Notes” are, but maybe you haven’t had my problem. I am the only person in my family who can read a particular person’s handwriting. So anytime anyone in my family gets a thank-you note or a gift, they have to come to me to decipher it. I’m getting a little tired of the eye rolls and calls of “Mom, I can’t read this!” This person is too old for me to say “You need to improve your handwriting,” but is it okay if I ask for future notes to be typed or printed? I know you’re always telling us how meaningful actual handwriting is, but how meaningful can a message be if you can’t read it without help? So, Etiquetteer . . . help!

Dear Corresponding:

Good penmanship is an important aspect of Perfect Propriety, shockingly neglected in schools over the last couple decades. (This is just one of many articles lamenting its decline and fall.) But bad penmanship has been around even longer, which is why there are penmanship books for adults still in print. (If you do an internet search for “penmanship exercises for adults” you’ll see many choices.)

This situation isn’t going to solve itself with silence. A conversation needs to take place, but you must approach it from a place of kindness because your correspondent’s motives are kindly. Try to put yourself in the space of “X is trying to maintain a relationship with us but doesn’t realize how these notes are being received” instead of “It’s so frustrating not to be able to read these notes all the time.” Then you can be honest about what’s happening and suggest more legible communications.

Now Etiquetteer has a question for you. Are these family members for whom you’re interpreting over the age of consent? If so, they are old enough to maintain their own relationships with this person without you as go-between. Next time they come to you with “I can’t read this,” remind them “You know how to contact this person — call or text and ask for a translation.”

Etiquetteer wishes you and your particular person many more Legible Lovely Notes in the future.

Zoom Weddings, Vol. 20, Issue 9

Dear Etiquetteer:

I'm thrilled to attend the wedding of two dear friends. I have know them for over a decade and they are wonderful people. If the wedding was in person, I am fairly certain that I would know how to respectfully celebrate this union. (That is, my days of emptying the open bar and being dragged off the dance floor are over.) However, the idea of a virtual wedding is perplexing. My partner and I will take this opportunity to dress up, but are there other things that we should be ready for?

There are some basics of the "netiquette" that we will be sure to follow: no checking email, all the other browser windows closed, no distractions, be present, etc. However, I would prefer to not treat this like another Zoom meeting.

I thank you in advance for any advice and insight you might provide.

Dear Wedding Guest:

For some, treating a Zoom wedding differently from “another Zoom meeting” will mean being fully dressed from neck to feet. At this point in the pandemic, Etiquetteer thinks people are a little weary of Mullet Wear, “business on top, party on the bottom.” Please dress fully, including shoes; if the wedding invitation includes a dress code, honor it.

Etiquetteer is delighted to know that your household is dressing up for the wedding. Recently Etiquetteer heard from a friend who attended a family wedding via Zoom; he expressed surprise that so many attendees (both family and friends) used the occasion to dress up in their best, an unexpected delight that contributed to the joy of the occasion. But some of the old rules still apply, particularly Don’t Upstage the Bride. If everyone’s looking at your Miss Universe tiara and not the Happy Couple, it won’t soon be forgotten.

All your netiquette instincts mirror Wedding Perfect Propriety at an in-person wedding: pay attention, focus on the service, don’t be distracted, and don’t be a distraction. Technical difficulties are magnified by the importance of the occasion — everyone obviously wants a wedding to go smoothly — so Etiquetteer always advises logging in at least a couple minutes early. If you’re uncomfortable or unfamiliar with the technology, get help before the wedding day from someone you trust so that you can approach your device with confidence. And when tech issues do surface (yours or someone else’s) be patient.

Where online weddings fail to replicate the Total Wedding Experience is the ability to chat intimately with other wedding guests. In-person weddings are so often full of shrieks of greeting from long-lost friends or relations, spied at a distance across the church. Who knows who you could see in that Zoom mosaic?! Your favorite auntie, disappeared fraternity brothers, colleagues from a previous job, cousins who live across the country. Verbal calls of “Hey there!” “Yoohoo!” and “Darling!” aren’t Perfectly Proper in church, and on Zoom they compel the attention of 100% of attendees. Use the chat feature to say hello privately; that means using the dropdown menu to change it from “Everyone.” If chat is disabled, make a mental note to reach out to these folks after the wedding to suggest your own tech rendezvous.

You’ll find even more Perfect Propriety for Zoom weddings at The New York Times here. Etiquetteer wishes your friends a Joyous Zoom Wedding and Long and Happy Life together ever after.

Last week, Beth Teitell published an interesting piece in The Boston Globe about wedding planning during the pandemic, mostly focusing on how to handle a wedding with a perpetually changing date. What disturbed Etiquetteer most was the story of Emily McCleary and her fiancée. It’s distressing enough to have to cancel a large and longed-for wedding, and Etiquetteer has Complete Compassion for them. But, “McCleary and her fiancée actually already got legally married — in a tiny ceremony that did not satisfy relatives who Zoomed in. Now she’s being — let’s say — nudged to host a proper wedding this summer.” These disappointed relatives are disappointing Etiquetteer. Of course an in-person wedding is what we’re all used to, but their expectations rank a distant second under the circumstances. Their own offers to host a party in honor of the Happy Couple (if any) went unrecorded in the article, but really . . . if what you’re missing is a party, then you hold the party, and you pay for the party.

We are at war (against the pandemic) and wartime weddings are of necessity smaller and simpler. In World War II The Little Church Around the Corner in New York hosted thousands of wartime weddings, but couples had to line up around the block to wait their turns for a service that took 15 minutes tops. And because of rationing, they often went without Traditional Bridal Finery, too. Etiquetteer applauds the couples who are bravely pursuing their paths to Wedded Bliss at this challenging time in our history. It’s our duty, as friends and family, to put our Best Faces Forward, conceal any disappointment, and focus only on the Long Life and Happiness of the Happy Couple. That’s how we win the war!

Return of the Dress Dinner Challenge, Vol. 20, Issue 8

With the start of the second year of the coronavirus pandemic, Etiquetteer felt it was time to bring back the Dress Dinner Challenge as a way to anchor the week and create an opportunity for some rarely exercised Perfect Propriety in the home. And since the end of January always marks the anniversary of Etiquetteer’s very first column, a dinner party for one turned out to be a Perfectly Proper way to celebrate 20 years of writing about manners.

Considering the frigid temperatures outdoors, Etiquetteer opted for an icy pale gray suit with white shirt and a floral bow tie of blue sharp enough to cut. And with Etiquetteer’s pandemic hair large enough to contaminate any meal, it became necessary to color-coordinate some kitchen headgear.

As is traditional for formal dinners, the menu is given in French lightly infected by whimsy (Grâce à Google Traduction) — except where the item in question didn’t originate in France*:

Manhattan cocktail

Craquelins Fromage

Bifteck de jupe mariné au vin rouge et à la Dijon au thym frais

Sauce Hollandaise à mixeur oubliée

Épinards en branche Pomme de terre au four

Salade verte sans imagination

Poires pochées à l'orange et au gingembre Gâteau quatre-quarts

This whole menu developed around a bottle of Médoc. It’s the other wine in Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado;” Montresor breaks open a bottle with Fortunato as they stumble along in the cellar looking for the cask. I was curious to try it.

Etiquetteer skipped the soup, as it were, and got right to the heart of the matter. Red meat was the obvious choice to accompany Médoc, and what the shop had was skirt steak, the bubble gum of the steak world. A good long soak in a mixture of red wine, thyme, garlic, and mustard softened it up helpfully, but there were moments when Etiquetteer wished he’d “argued the law with his wife,” like Father William. With all the fussing over it, Etiquetteer completely forgot to make the Hollandaise sauce . . . but then it was a rich menu to begin with . . . calories!

Plain old spinach**, to Etiquetteer’s surprise, was a staple vegetable on the formal dinner menu, so that was very easy to achieve. A baked potato with sour cream and chives would decidedly not be on a formal dinner menu; then it would be more Perfectly Proper to see something frillier like Duchesse Potatoes. But at a stag*** dinner it might be more likely, and Etiquetteer was decidedly going stag.

Etiquetteer returned the salad to its proper place following the meat on a formal menu, but it was an unremarkable green salad straight out of the box, without even a curl of carrot or a pinch of herbs to distinguish it. But then Etiquetteer put more of an effort into dessert for a change, experimenting with pears poached in orange and ginger along with a first-ever attempt at a pound cake to soak up all that syrup. That pear could probably have been poached another few minutes, but it was still mighty tasty, and the pound cake was both crisp and dense.

Between courses Etiquetteer was delighted to be engaged by friends at a distance, which made lingering over the Médoc much more enjoyable. Have you enjoyed video dinner with friends over the course of the pandemic? The tragedy of the pandemic is that it keeps us from being together in person. But one of the conveniences is that, when dining alone, you can put your laptop or phone anyplace on the table without getting pushback . . .

Won’t you plan to join Etiquetteer one or more Saturday nights this winter for the #DressDinnerChallenge? We all need something to look forward to with Perfect Propriety! All you need to do is wear your good clothes, set the table with the good stuff, light a few candles, and make (and enjoy) a nice meal. Bon appétit à l'avance!

See what candlelight can do for the complexion?

*Millicent Fenwick teaches us in The Vogue Book of Etiquette that oxtail soup, a recipe that originated in England, is always given as “Oxtail Soup” on a formal menu, and not as “Potage à la queue de bœuf.”

**When served plain, Mrs. Fenwick instructs that it’s properly listed as “Épinards en branche.” When creamed spinach, “épinards à la crème.” The latter was also a specialty at the late Locke-Ober of Boston, may it rest in peace.

***As a reminder, a stag dinner is any dinner at which no ladies are present. These days it’s more typical to think of a stag dinner only in terms of a bachelor dinner (and accompanying hijinks).

Guess Who's Not Invited to Dinner, Vol. 20, Issue 7

Culling the list of Dinner Guests from All History down to just who would fit in the dining room was quite a exercise, but there were a few Historical Personages Etiquetteer wouldn’t have dreamt of inviting. Let’s consider them chronologically.

Louis XIV has gone down in history as one of the great etiquetteers, making of Etiquette a religion and Versailles its temple. But the Sun King used etiquette too much as a weapon and not as a guide for Etiquetteer’s taste. And he was so focused on la gloire that he considered the welfare of his subjects not at all. Etiquetteer’s view is that of Shakespeare’s from Henry IV, Part 2: “When he was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved . . .”

Emma, Lady Hamilton. The most scandalous beauty of her day, she created her own art form, her Attitudes, sadly outshone in her legacy by her brazen affair with Lord Nelson. But Emma could be a little embarrassing at table because of her excessive love of the bottle. Once in her later years back in England, champagne was served as a special treat at a private dinner. “Accustomed to drink it like water,” Emma got very enthusiastic, called for more, and suggested the party play a drinking game. All this served to underline with embarrassment that there was no more champagne*. Oopsie!

Queen Victoria was another royal stickler for Perfect Propriety; you most definitely had to be on your Ps and Qs around her! But what few remember is that she had terrible table manners. The Hanoverians were known for their lusty appetites. While her uncles took their pleasures in bed, Queen Victoria took hers at the board. A greedy eater, she would bolt down a dinner of multiple courses in half an hour or less. This meant she barely had a word to say to anyone with her. And when she was done, everyone was done, whether they’d actually been served or not. For a dinner at which the food is an excuse for conversation, Vicky would be out of place.

Nicholas II might be an interesting companion one on one — Etiquetteer would love to draw out some stories about the antics of the Potato Society over a brandy in the study — but he was so very much a family man that he was difficult to draw out in social situations.

Hugh Lowther, 5th Earl of Lonsdale, the “Yellow Earl” because of his fondness for that color, lived and loved in the Grand Manner and certainly knew a thing or two about entertaining. Etiquetteer vaguely remembers a story** about synchronizing the timing of a visiting dignitary’s train (either Edward VII or the Kaiser) with a procession of yellow carriages so that both would arrive simultaneously at the station. The Earl won, so the dignitary’s train had to pause for ten minutes out of town. Now that is stage management! But his flagrant adultery and his fondness for the Kaiser rub Etiquetteer the wrong way, as does also his tendency to lapse into monologue at the dinner table. As his nephew’s wife recorded “Conversation at dinner was apt to develop into something of a monologue by Hugh, usually on the subject of some of the achievements of his past life, the details of which were fantastic in the extreme. Because most of his closest friends were inclined to be sycophantic and seldom dared to contradict him, his stories were apt to get wilder and wilder.”*** We need some conversational give and take at Etiquetteer’s table!

Elsa Maxwell was a true American success story, the little girl who came up from nothing in San Francisco to be the outrageous mistress of ceremonies to transatlantic High Society. Etiquetteer actually has a soft spot for Elsa, because she really did help to make entertaining fun. She took the stuffing out of the stuffy with her scavenger hunts and costume parties. But my goodness, you can stub every toe you have on all the names she drops, and there is such a “Me, me, ME” quality to Elsa . . . a dinner party like this is about sharing the spotlight. Etiquetteer would much rather see Elsa privately for a drink than in a group setting.

Greta Garbo, sometimes described as a “recluse about town” in her retirement years, retains the fascination of an idol in its ark even today. But she wasn’t what could be called a Conversational Giver, and also had the disconcerting (to some) habit of occasionally appearing topless; this happened once when she was staying with Ava Gardner, and for Ava, once was more than enough****.

•••

A Facebook reader expressed interest in the menu Etiquetteer would serve to the 13 Dinner Guests from All History; since Etiquetteer’s Dress Dinner Challenge is coming back for the winter starting this Saturday night, it makes sense to offer up a Fantasy Menu for a Formal Dinner. Millicent Fenwick documented the then-dying and now very-much-dead custom of the Dinner of Ceremony in her Vogue Book of Etiquette, and Etiquetteer is basing this menu off hers of no more than seven courses:

OYSTERS: Oysters Rockefeller

SOUP: Consommé Madrilène (in the language of formal dinners, “Madrilène” always means tomato), served hot, perhaps garnished with a transparent slice or two of cucumber.

FISH: Turbot au court-bouillon (Mrs. Fenwick says do not serve with potatoes with fish at a formal dinner, except as garnish on the platter. She may not be invited to dinner, but you’d better not cross her.)

MEAT: Filet de boeuf Richelieu, Sauce Madère, Pommes Duchesse, Petits pois

ASPARAGUS: Asperges, sauce Hollandaise

DESSERT: Glace Nesselrode (Nesselrode always means hazelnuts). Mrs. Fenwick describes this as “a hollow mold of vanilla ice cream filled and decorated with riced purée of marrons glacés,” but none of the recipes that pop up when searching for “Glace Nesselrode” seem to describe this. Molded ice cream was the dessert for formal dinners for decades.

FRUIT: Etiquetteer departs from the traditional service of plain old fresh fruit to include Peaches in Chartreuse Jelly from Last Dinner on the Titanic, along with dishes of Muscat grapes.

Needless to say, you won’t see Etiquetteer producing a menu like this just for one on Saturday night! But stay tuned . . .

*From her biography by Flora Fraser.

**It is infuriating not to be able to find this reference!

***From The Yellow Earl by Douglas Sutherland.

****From Ava: My Story, by Ava Gardner.

Thirteen Dinner Guests from All History, Vol. 20, Issue 6

Remember the vogue for trivia books in the mid-1970s? Etiquetteer just rediscovered a junior high school-era paperback of The Book of Lists by the Wallace/Wallechinsky family, a bubbling cauldron of interesting tidbits on everything from uninhabited islands to the greatest wrestlers of all time to people known to have tried mariani wine. More to the point, it included a chapter of lists from distinguished people of who they would invite to dinner from all history. And it got Etiquetteer to thinking who might make up an interesting dinner party from all history of people who know something about etiquette and/or entertaining.

How on earth to choose? The late Joan Crawford provides a helpful foundation in her My Way of Life: “The best parties are a wild mixture. Take some corporation presidents, add a few lovely young actresses, a bearded painter, a professional jockey, your visiting friends from Brussels, a politican, a hairdresser, and a professor of physics, toss them all together, and try to get them to stop talking long enough to eat!” She continues, “It’s especially important to have all age groups. I’ve never noticed any generation gap . . . all the young people I know are bright and attractive and have something to say.” Of course these days corporation presidents often are lovely young actresses, but you get the point — everyone’s not cut from the same cloth.

Etiquetteer’s other criterion was the size of the table, fourteen. With a dinner party larger than that, brisk, vigorous general conversation gets put at risk. It’s also the Perfectly Proper size for the second-floor President’s Dining Room at the White House, the most enduring innovation of the late Jacqueline Kennedy. But it did make choosing the guest list very difficult. You’ll find, impossible as it may seem, that neither Joan nor Jackie is there.

So here’s Etiquetteer’s “wild mixture:”

As a bachelor, Etiquetteer needs a good hostess at the head of his table, which means Eleanor of Aquitaine. Queen Eleanor knew how to impose good behavior on those around her, and besides, she made the tablecloth a standard feature for a dinner table set with Perfect Propriety.

To Etiquetteer’s right, where protocol would put the ranking lady, Mary, Queen of Scots. Queen Mary liked a good time, and she had been brought up in the French court with discerning taste. And anyone being condemned by that tedious John Knox for “joyousities” is likely to be fun to have around! It will be necessary to seat her with a clear view to any entrances, to avoid any flashback to that unfortunate supper party at Holyrood.

Major Archibald Butt, now remembered chiefly for drowning on the Titanic, was also deeply knowledgeable about protocol and entertaining, and the social backbone of the Taft Administration. He was also a man who loved women — from a safe distance — and would be able to bring out the best in the ladies present, and they in him. Besides, Etiquetteer wants to know just how close his friendship was with Frank Millet . . .

Then, considering social lions of Washington, Dolley Madison. Dolley almost singlehandedly forged Washington society into something vigorous and valuable with her Wednesday night receptions. As Margaret Bayard Smith recorded, “it would be absolutely impossible for any one to behave with more perfect propriety than she did.” What greater endorsement might be needed? Etiquetteer could only hope that she’d put off taking any snuff until after the last course.

Anthony Fauci, the most lionized scientist of the era, also just looks like he’d be a lot of fun to hang around with. Why not?

Emily Post, the grandmother of all American etiquette writers, “wore her honors lightly” and could keep everyone Perfectly Proper without the grandeur of Queen Eleanor. Etiquetteer grew up reading her delightful masterpiece Etiquette and just can’t imagine her not being there.

Rupert Brooke, the World War One poet, satisfies Joan Crawford’s criteria both for young people and for “bearded painters,” which Etiquetteer is stretching to include all art forms. Besides, we know from The Lion in Winter that Queen Eleanor loved “music and poetry and the young men who made both . . . “

Continuing on the other side of the table, at Queen Eleanor’s right, the ranking male guest would be Baldassare Castiglione, author of The Book of the Courtier, a very popular guide for Perfectly Proper Political Politeness in its era . . . before it was banned. He and Eleanor could compare notes!

To his right, America’s youngest poet laureate Amanda Gorman. Like most of America, Etiquetteer fell in love with her last week at the inauguration. Such poise, such an incisive imagination! Anything further would expose Etiquetteer for the Amanda Fanboy he really is. Ms. Gorman makes a refreshing counterpoint to Rupert Brooke on the other side of the table.

Lucius Beebe, that distinguished gourmand and author, loved good food, drink, and company — not just good, the best. He’d be keeping us all up the mark, but Amanda Gorman would be keeping him up to the mark.

Rita Lydig, “the fabulous Mrs. Lydig,” prodigal and improvident collector of fine art, textiles, and especially exquisite shoes. A fine practitioner of the art of living, but alas, not of financial management, she could converse intelligently on every subject. Etiquetteer hopes she’ll wear one of those backless evening gowns she introduced to New York.

Bernardo Buontalenti, a true Renaissance man of the Renaissance: architect, stage designer, painter, and the inventor of gelato.

Michelle Obama, former First Lady, a Perfectly Proper exemplar of American style, in terms of both entertaining and fashion, and nutrition.

That leaves Etiquetteer between Mrs. Obama, and wanting to draw her out on gardening and White House interior design, and Queen Mary, and wanting to draw her out on embroidery and her naughty second husband Lord Darnley.

Etiquetteer will have to have a good consult with Millicent Fenwick’s Vogue Book of Etiquette on the menu, as well as Last Dinner on the Titanic, but it will be a challenge navigating between Mr. Beebe’s need for perfection and Mrs. Obama’s focused interest on healthy eating. The fruit course would certainly have to include breadfruit — an allusion to Rupert Brooke’s visit to Tahiti and his affair there — and Sgr. Buontalenti’s crema come una volta, the original gelato recipe.

Soon, a quick column on who didn’t receive an invitation, and why!

Perfectly Proper Inaugural Wear, Vol. 20, Issue 5

Of course Etiquetteer is going to comment on the Perfect Propriety of what people wore to the inauguration yesterday. Proper Dress at such an important Occasion is a source of absorbing interest. And among other things, yesterday we got to celebrate the cloth coat as an institution of proper dress for ladies. (You can get chapter and verse on all yesterday’s looks at Vanity Fair.) For Etiquetteer this was underlined by the sight of one official wife being escorted down the stairs wearing a zip-up down coat with a hood.

Few remember how popular fur was sixty years ago and more; a mink coat was seen as the ultimate essential luxury for Ladies Good and Bad*. In his famous “Checkers” speech, Richard Nixon put it on the line: “Pat doesn't have a mink coat. But she does have a respectable Republican cloth coat.” Etiquetteer feels the change in fashion since then can be credited to anti-fur activism as well as changing tastes. The “respectable cloth coat” finally came back into its own yesterday, for all political persuasions.

Jacqueline Kennedy created the modern era’s most iconic Incoming First Lady look in 1961. Her Oleg Cassini greige suit with matching coat has become the standard to which her successors are held. Notice the fur collar and matching muff, and also her elegant fur-trimmed snow boots; it turned out to be bitterly cold that year.

First Lady Jill Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris both achieved Perfectly Proper ensembles from shoes up. The best part of the First Lady’s ensemble from Markarian was the contrasting velvet (?) lapels and cuffs, and especially the matching gloves, though black would have served as a striking and appropriate contrast. Laura Bush achieved the same sort of effect with the black lapels on her slate blue coat.

We saw lots of bold color yesterday, which Etiquetteer loves. Amanda Gorman’s yellow coat and her arresting red Arc of Control made her the most commanding presence at the podium all day — and this in spite of a wonderful inaugural speech from President Biden! Hillary Clinton’s exceedingly purple pantsuit was topped by a sort-of burgundy-ish coat that — how to say this? — that didn’t quite harmonize with all that purple. Bess Truman used to say “You can never go wrong with black,” and there’s some wisdom in that.

Amanda Gorman

Speaking of pantsuits, many have forgotten the furore in the early 1970s when women began wearing pantsuits instead of skirt suits**. Everybody has calmed down since then, but Michelle Obama is perhaps the first female dignitary to wear a pantsuit to an inauguration — and won’t be the last. Her flowingly cut wine-red pantsuit could be the 21st-century version of Jackie Kennedy’s greige suit.

Regal and American, and Perfectly Proper.

The white pantsuit has become a powerful symbol of the suffragist movement for women, but the only one we saw at the inauguration was that of Jennifer Lopez, who sang following the Oaths of Office. And Etiquetteer has no trouble with that, because an all-white ensemble on the podium might have detracted from the speakers. It’s never a good idea to upstage the President.

Which leads Etiquetteer to Lady Gaga. Now Etiquetteer just loves a diva dress as much as any gentleman who loves divas. But an evening dress outside at midday at a presidential inauguration, and with a skirt even larger than the President Himself . . . Etiquetteer has reservations. Aretha Franklin defined the Diva Dressed for Daytime look at President Obama’s inauguration in 2009; that’s a Perfectly Proper template from which to work. That said, that enormous dove of peace brooch put the Statement in Statement Jewelry. Fabulous.

Among the gentlemen (all of them in pantsuits . . . ) we saw the usual array of dark suits and neckties. Etiquetteer knows better than to mourn for club coats and high silk hats; the United States has grown beyond them. That said, an inauguration still requires an effort to dress up. While the internet is going wild for Bernie Sanders in his raincoat and mittens, Etiquetteer wishes he had taken a little more trouble. And when Garth Brooks took the stage, Etiquetteer could just hear the words of Frau Blücher: “I suggest ya put on a tie!”

This photo doesn’t reveal that Melania has switched out her high heels for flats.

Now let’s look at the outgoing administration. Melania Trump’s black ensemble for departure from the White House was Entirely Appropriate, but then Etiquetteer was surprised to see her exit the plane in Florida in a different outfit. This unbelted dress in white with a graduated pattern of blue and orange called to mind the better aspects of early 1970s interior design, but . . . but it somehow didn’t look like a dress you’d wear outside the house. (See them both at Vanity Fair.) But then, that might also be her way of communicating “I really don’t care, do U?”

The Trump family lineup outside Air Force One revealed Ivanka’s black-accented coat of winter white; Etiquetteer does love a jewel neck. Camel’s hair always represents conservative good taste, and Tiffany Trump gets extra points for that hot pink lining. But button up, dear, it’s cold outside!

You can never go wrong with black, or Black Watch.

Good housekeeping, it’s said, is what you don’t see, and the must-have accessory for this inauguration was, of course, the face mask. Everyone’s seemed to blend with their wardrobes — this was hardly the occasion for novelty! — but Etiquetteer awards an honorable mention to Chasten Buttigieg for his Black Watch plaid mask, just because it’s a favorite plaid.

*To get an idea, review the first two or three seasons of Perry Mason, which overall celebrates the middle-class aesthetic of the mid-century. You’d be surprised how many women wear fur stoles or coats to court.

**This episode of All in the Family when Archie reacts to Edith wearing pants for the first time sums it up nicely.

Pre-Inaugural Thoughts, Vol. 20, Issue 4

If you can’t attend a party in the proper spirit, don’t go. — Etiquetteer

“Stand not upon the order of your going, but go at once.” — Lady Macbeth

Since childhood Etiquetteer has been fascinated by the stories of the Presidents of the United States, the First Ladies, and especially the White House. That’s no surprise, considering how often Etiquetteer quotes White House memoirists! So the Biden inauguration tomorrow, and the behavior of President and Mrs. Trump, is no small source of Perfectly Proper Interest. Though obviously everything happening is Not Perfectly Proper*.

Donald Trump may be only the first President to be impeached twice**, but he is the fourth to bypass the inauguration of his successor. John Adams, heartily ready to get out of town, was on the public stage coach heading back to Massachusetts hours before noon, when Thomas Jefferson took the oath of office. John Quincy Adams, after what might be the nastiest Presidential campaign ever, didn’t get invited to the inauguration by Andrew Jackson. (Etiquetteer really thinks that was more from confusion about protocol on both sides rather than malice.) At any rate, JQA of his own volition moved from the White House the day before so that Jackson could receive his supporters in the White House afterward, which was a Perfectly Proper thing to do. The resulting melée, however, resulted in the trashing of the White House by a mad crush of partygoers — which said a lot about the incoming administration. President Jackson had to leave by a window . . . but at least it wasn’t defenestration.

That leaves our first impeached President, Andrew Johnson, who chose not to attend U.S. Grant’s inauguration and spent the morning signing legislation before returning to Tennessee. Grant was the rising star, Johnson an impeached embarrassment, and they just didn’t like each other anyway.

Not all Presidents favored their successors; that didn’t keep them from doing the Perfectly Proper thing and attending the inauguration. Even Dwight D. Eisenhower, who hated Harry Truman, made things difficult — and about something as petty as a hat. Truman, a known dandy who began life as a haberdasher, would have preferred a high silk top hat; in fact the limousine they were riding in was specially built to accommodate top hats. But Eisenhower wore a Homburg instead, forcing the President (it seems) to change hats on short notice.

Even more of a slight, when the Eisenhowers pulled up to the North Portico to collect the President, they wouldn’t even go into the White House for cup of coffee. J.B. West described both men as “grim-faced” and expressed relief that he wasn’t in the car with them.

More to the point, Al Gore attended the inauguration of his victor George W. Bush, after the only legitimately contested election in this century. And as the outgoing Vice President, he also had to certify his victor’s election in the Senate as demanded by the Constitution, at the same ceremony interrupted January 6 by violent insurrection. As the New York Times said at the time, “He performed these duties with grace, gentle humor and complete silence about his thoughts and feelings.”

In other words, he behaved like a gentleman.

Donald Trump finds himself in a similar position to that of Al Gore: a candidate who felt the need to contest the results of a presidential election. But Mr. Gore accepted defeat graciously and without a public temper tantrum. Whereas President Trump has mounted a series of laughably frivolous lawsuits, denied that he lost when he quite obviously had, and finally, unthinkably, incited a rabble of his followers to storm the U.S. Capitol to prevent certifying the election. He has refused to concede, has never called Biden with the traditional congratulations or invited him to the Oval Office — remember how gracious Barack Obama was, welcoming the Father of Birtherism into the Oval Office after Trump’s election — and now has made it clear that he won’t be at the inauguration.

On the distaff side, First Lady Melania Trump has declined to invite Dr. Jill Biden for the usual pre-inaugural visit to the White House, which says more about her than it does about the tradition. Not that those visits were universally without tension, either. Bess Truman and Mamie Eisenhower were old friends; their cordiality endured despite their husbands being at loggerheads. Mamie was no fan of Jackie Kennedy’s, however, and was at her most regally icy when she came — but Mamie still invited her.

Traditions are more than symbols; they also test our worthiness. Once again, Donald Trump has failed the test; he has not met the moment. He has been accused of many things, but never of being a gentleman. And that reputation is now firmly in place (if it wasn’t already).

*You’ll be interested in these anecdotes about White House transitions from the White House Historical Association.

**Let’s hope there isn’t another!

Rising to the Moment, Vol. 20, Issue 3

Perfect Propriety demands responding to crises with Perfect Propriety, which sometimes means improvising. It isn’t easy to know what to do in an emergency. Here are three examples from the last century, two involving First Ladies.

BLATANT FAVORITISM: President and Mrs. Kennedy’s European tour in 1961 included a flawless visit to Paris, and thorny diplomatic challenges with the Soviets they met in Vienna. Jackie Kennedy was then at the height of her adoration by the world public, an adoration which lasted the rest of her life, and beyond. The deafening chants of “JACK-IE! JACK-IE! JACK-IE!” made a luncheon hosted by the daughter of the President of Austria extremely embarrassing; the crowds were ostentatiously overlooking the other guest of honor, Nina Khrushchev, wife of the Premier of the Soviet Union. As Letitia Baldrige tells it in A Lady, First*, Mrs. Kennedy finally got up from the luncheon table and opened one of the windows, allowing the assembly to adore her. She then went back inside and almost literally dragged an unwilling Mrs. Khrushchev onto the balcony with her so that the crowd began chanting “JACK-IE NI-NA! JACK-IE NI-NA!” Deftly achieved!

Betty Ford prays for Rabbi Sage (Gerald R. Ford Library).

MEDICAL EMERGENCIES: Etiquetteer has never forgotten the news coverage of First Lady Betty Ford maintaining control of a 2,500-person gala dinner while the host was having a heart attack right next to her. Dr. Maurice Sage had just introduced Mrs. Ford and returned to his seat by the podium when he collapsed. As a doctor and Secret Service agents turned their attention to Rabbi Sage, Mrs. Ford, “visibly shaken and with her voice trembling,” took to the podium, asked the assembly to rise and bow their heads silently, and improvised a two-minute prayer. This served both to maintain the focus on Rabbi Sage and to keep the asembly calm. Etiquetteer thinks it was downright heroic.

THE COMFORT OF A STRANGER: On a decidedly less global scale, Melville Bell Grosvenor, editor of National Geographic, once demonstrated that it’s more than clothes that make the man, it’s how he wears them. His 1966 obituary in the Geographic included the story of a “shy cub from New England” who was invited for a stay at the Grosvenor’s winter home in Florida. He came down to dinner in a white linen suit - then the vogue - but was horrified to discover that he was the only man present wearing black shoes. Everyone else had on white. “There was nothing he could do in his embarrassment but to try to lose himself among the guests.” Dr. Grosvenor observed this, left his party for a few minutes, and returned wearing a pair of black shoes in solidarity with the “shy cub.” Let others think what they will, that is the true mark of a gentleman.

In the current moment - January, 2021 - none of us know how we will be called upon to respond in an emergency, large or small, diplomatic or domestic, medical or menial. Etiquetteer hopes that we can all do so with the intuition, courage, and deftness required.

*Page 196.

Returning to a Perfectly Proper America, Vol. 20, Issue 2

“This is war, not a garden party!'“ — Harry Davenport as Dr. Meade in Gone With the Wind (1939)

"Never again will you dare in my presence to condone your crimes under the mask of patriotism. No more of such talk, do you hear?!" — Flora Robson as Elizabeth I in The Sea Hawk (1940)

“If you want to hang around, you’ll be polite.” — Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon (1941)

“Lawlessness by the mob, as with the individual, will not be tolerated. We will act firmly and quickly to put down riot or insurrection wherever and whenever the situation requires.” — Ronald Reagan as President of the United States in real life

•

Many people remain horrified by the insurrection of January 6 that was incited by President Trump and others. Etiquetteer has been numb with anger — but not, sadly, disbelief. It has been difficult to know how to respond to this attack on a coequal branch of government; this is hardly the time to talk about Lovely Notes and afternoon tea! Anger and humor have been washing over the internet in roughly equal measure, but Etiquetteer can’t really find the spirit to be flippant*, even about the shocking fashion choices made by some of the insurrectionists.**

All this led to the question of what a Perfectly Proper America should look like, as opposed to its current, bitterly divided state. Which led Etiquetteer to Carl Sagan’s oft-quoted and chillingly prescient prophecy in his book The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark:

“I have a foreboding of an America in my children's or grandchildren's time — when the United States is a service and information economy; when nearly all the manufacturing industries have slipped away to other countries; when awesome technological powers are in the hands of a very few, and no one representing the public interest can even grasp the issues; when the people have lost the ability to set their own agendas or knowledgeably question those in authority; when, clutching our crystals and nervously consulting our horoscopes, our critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what's true, we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness . . .

”The dumbing down of American is most evident in the slow decay of substantive content in the enormously influential media, the 30 second sound bites (now down to 10 seconds or less), lowest common denominator programming, credulous presentations on pseudoscience and superstition, but especially a kind of celebration of ignorance."

Well . . . we’re there! A friend posted this on social media, and the question that immediately rose in Etiquetteer’s mind was “How do we reverse this trend?” It is going to take a lot of work, by all of us.

Every citizen needs a refresher course on what Honor is, and how to behave honorably in daily life. The dictionary provides several definitions, but the relevant ones are 1a, “a good name or public esteem;” 4, “One whose worth brings respect or fame;***” and 8a, “A keen sense of ethical conduct.” Most of us overlook the point at the end of the Declaration of Independence that Life and Fortune were not held sacred by the Founders, but Honor was: “And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”

Being an honorable citizen means taking responsibility for your actions, and doing so without comparison. In the case of the insurrectionists, pointing to other protests and protestors and saying “Well, they were protesting, too!” is a) false equivalence, and b) irrelevant. Insurrection and sedition are a) not protest, and b) still Not Perfectly Proper whether others protest different causes. Other people’s behavior isn’t up for discussion now; participating in and/or aiding and abetting an insurrection is. Own it.

Last week’s violent insurrection could have been avoided with a gracious concession as soon as the AP called the presidential election on the Saturday after Election Day. But President Trump had signaled long before that concession was not possible for him. Almost anticipating he would not win, he seemed to prefer fighting America by deceiving his followers about both election results and government processes. It shouldn’t be necessary to say that he has not behaved honorably, but it is.

Each of us also needs to return to America’s founding documents, the Declaration and the Constitution, so that they actually know and understand what they’re protesting. There’s an awful lot of vigorous discussion on the internet about how Constitutional amendments may or may not be used for particular purposes, but not with a universal grasp of their meaning. Do your own reading; don’t let others do it for you. (And this is just as important for Etiquetteer as anyone else; these documents haven’t exactly been bedside reading here.) And whenever these documents are introduced in school curricula . . . well, it should be done a year or two earlier.

From there we need to cultivate the twin qualities of Discernment and Discretion. Too few of us (including Etiquetteer) miss essential subtleties in distinguishing both true and hidden meanings, bold and obscure statements. And once we have been able to come to our own conclusions, it isn’t necessary to tweet and toot everything. In Edith Wharton’s essential The Age of Innocence, the Countess Olenska perfectly understood why the van der Luydens were so influential: because they made opportunities to see them very rare. In other words, if we’d all shut up and research more of what we’re talking about, our contributions to National Discourse might be more considered, insightful, useful, and respected.

Then, at last we get to manners and etiquette. Etiquetteer has said it and said it, but it’s still true: don’t feed the trolls, block them. Their sole purpose is to spread mischief and discord. Ignore them. It’s Perfectly Proper to remind a Senator that they voted to acquit an impeached President in 2019, but adding an F-bomb is only likely to get you suspended from your Preferred Online Platform. Believe Etiquetteer, the sting of “Traitor” and “Insurrectionist” are sufficient.

While there have already been some urgent calls for unity, Etiquetteer wants to see some accountability and contrition first. Already we are seeing the corporate version of the old Regency custom of the “cut direct.” Businesses large and small are severing their relationships with President Trump and other politicians and citizens involved in this sedition. This is likely to extend to social circles, where invitations will dry up. Other participants are being denied access to air travel (whether for ending up on the No Fly List, refusing to wear masks, or unruly behavior remains unknown; all have been suggested).

Etiquetteer very much wants the United States to be truly United; this nation has not been so bitterly divided since 1860. We will be closer to that day when the enormity of last week’s violent insurrection is truly realized by those who justified it (and those who continue to justify it), and when more informed citizens can participate in the National Dialogue with “less heat, more light.” Etiquetteer doesn’t have all the answers, but is ready to join the discussion.

*Finding inspiration in Golden Age Hollywood is not flippant by definition.

**”Why Rioters Wear Costumes” in The New York Times, offers some interesting observations on this topic.

***It is most important here to distinguish between Fame and Notoreity. President Trump is notorious, not famous, because of his behavior.

Etiquetteer Reviews Blessed Are the Debonair, Vol. 20, Issue 1

Have you noticed how the mood changes abruptly after New Year’s Day? All the coziness of the Christmas Spirit feels swept away by the excitement and (sometimes alleged) glamor of New Year’s. And the Twelve Days of Christmas continue until Tuesday night!

The coronavirus pandemic is keeping Etiquetteer from observing a new tradition, a few days in New York to see friends and fine art, with the cozy, storied Algonquin Hotel as a base. So it makes sense today to look back at the gentleman who made this celebrated hotel an Institution, Frank Case.

In this century most people are vaguely aware of the “Algonk” as the headquarters of the Round Table, that collection of creatives associated with The New Yorker and the New York theatre. They are not aware of Mr. Case, the hotel genius whose personal interest in the theatre and literature made the Algonquin so especially welcoming to artists. In many ways he was a paragon of Perfect Propriety, and his daughter Margaret Case Harriman’s observant, adoring memoir Blessed Are the Debonair, illustrates how he exemplified, and insisted on, good behavior from offspring and friends.

“Father had a way of cocking his right eyebrow at you that could make you suddenly conscious that you were lacking in charm,” Margaret tells us early on. He applied that eyebrow to Margaret and her younger brother Carroll, to friends like Douglas Fairbanks, Sr., and sometimes to hotel guests. We forget that once upon a time people weren’t so interested in owning furniture and kitchen utensils and actually lived in pre-furnished hotel rooms that didn’t express their personalities. They took their meals in restaurants or via room service, and often entertained their friends in the lobby. A hotel could be a neighborhood, and Frank Case was its mayor.

Another reason Etiquetteer likes this book so much is that it includes forgotten etiquette and outgrown, ridiculous prejudice. The ideas, for instance, of a bride being married from her home, and of actors not being respectable. The author’s first husband’s belief in the latter — “No actress is decent and all writers are bums” — caused their wedding to be held at the country house of friends instead of at the home of the bride’s family, the Algonquin. “‘It’s just that it’s a theatrical hotel,’ he explained. ‘It isn’t as though your father were manager of the Ritz!” Nowadays the idea of a bride being married from a place is entirely incomprehensible, and personalities of the theatre are not just respectable, they’re indispensable.

And the ideas of who is introduced to whom, and of correcting someone’s behavior in public. Margaret tells the story of lunching at the Algonquin with Rudolph Valentino (!) and his manager. When Mr. Case approached the table, Margaret said “Father, this is Mr. Valentino . . . my father, Frank Case.” She continued “Before I could introduce Valentino’s manager, Valentino’s manager sternly corrected me. ‘Mr. Valentino, may I present Mr. Frank Case.’” He was making the point that lesser people are presented to greater ones, and Valentino was unquestionably the Greatest wherever he happened to be. Valentino, besides being sincerely modest, knew enough to know that you don’t correct your host’s behavior at his or her own table. “The Sheik” shot his manager a look that, to Margaret, “conveyed a distinct kick in the shins.”

Mr. Case also knew how to put hotel guests in their place. When a matron commented that she could never really admire a divorced woman, Frank managed to control himself enough to say only “Well, my wife was a divorced woman when she married me, and my daughter is a divorced woman now, so you can scarcely expect me to agree with you.” Survey says . . . oops!

Valentino was perhaps one of the few celebrities who made an impression at the Algonk, because the place was full of ‘em, including at Christmas. “On Christmas Eve Father held open house in the lobby with free refreshments for all, the only requirement being that everybody help trim the huge tree that brushed the ceiling . . . Dennis King or Vinton Freedley, or one of the Marx Brothers* would teeter on the high ladder, placing the star at the top, while Gertrude Stein (!) and Ina Claire and Peggy Wood**, say, wrangled pleasantly about the disposal of ornaments below.” Gertrude Stein once thanked Frank Case for such a nice evening because that’s how she got to meet Gypsy Rose Lee! Just imagine if this was a homeowner’s association . . .

Happily the author includes an account of her father at Christmas which gives us an idea of how a gentleman dresses. He wasn’t easy to shop for. Mr. Case had a long, lean silhouette, so he never carried anything in his pockets that would disturb his line. “You could not give him anything that would clutter up his lean and graceful person.” Black evening socks — expensive silk ones from Charvet — were always a favorite, as well as top-quality hats, from Alpine hiking hats to Homburgs. For Etiquetteer, who believes in the importance of wearing the ribbons and bows from unwrapped gifts, it was a pleasure to learn that Mr. Case would put on his wearable gifts at once (thought without the ribbons). And also that Mrs. Harriman was ahead of her time as a gift wrapper, decorating her gift boxes with all sorts of things, including fresh flowers and old costume jewelry. “No Christmas present could be more appealing than when it is wrapped in violet-colored metallic paper bound with pink dime-store pearls, or enclosed in gold or silver paper, with a huge ten-cent rhinestone clip on top.” Etiquetteer has to agree!

Etiquetteer found one mean note about Frank, relating to life at the Algonquin after the staff had unionized. Hearing a loaded tray crash to the kitchen floor, Frank turned to his luncheon companions and said “There was a time when I would have gone out there and fired the man who did that. Now, I have to go out and say, ‘Did you hurt yourself?’” Somehow that doesn’t seem very Perfectly Proper.

Etiquetteer very much hopes that this time next year it will be safe for all of us to meet in the lobby of the Algonquin to toss back a Pink Whiskers in memory of Agnes Gooch. In the meantime, let us continue to give 2021 a good, Perfectly Proper start by rummaging through some favorite volumes, old and new.

2016: Etiquetteer’s first stay at the Algonquin.

*Chico Marx lived at the Algonquin for awhile.

**Now remembered solely for her role as the Mother Superior in The Sound of Music.

Etiquetteer's Year in Review, Vol. 19, Issue 75

Frankly, the thought of reviewing annus horribilis MMXX for good and bad manners in the news just nearly sent Etiquetteer back to bed with the vapors. It felt much more Perfectly Proper to browse through Volume 19 for a few memorable moments.

Etiquetteer’s Last Hurrah before the pandemic quarantine was to emcee the History Project’s Leap Day Pink Tea on February 29, which led to a column on the history of Leap Day, and a Very Important Surprise Wedding. Orange wasn’t typical for 20th-century brides, but Etiquetteer’s Dear Grandmother certainly wore it with distinction and Perfect Propriety.

In light of the pandemic, it’s rather funny that a February column turned to how to blow your nose in public. Masks have changed that! In a similar vein, anyone still advocating for the “L.A. Hug” is surely being told to Keep Their Distance. Etiquetteer predicted that the handshake would not come back. Do you think so? Etiquetteer made some other predictions about the Perfect Propriety of the future. Will we ever be able to have a wedding without Zoom again?

And with the quarantine keeping us at home in comfortable clothes, Etiquetteer had a lot of fun researching the history of tea gowns and caftans. Etiquetteer was also asked about the future of gloves, which sadly still doesn’t look very promising. In a similar vein, Etiquetteer got to research the Perfectly Proper time to begin wearing seersucker; the answer is not universal the world over!

The year saw palpable and permanent changes to the landscape of social protest, and Etiquetteer wrote about the tension between Protest vs. Manners. Truly, protest is what happens when manners aren’t enough. Etiquetteer also paid a tribute to Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and offered some suggestions to the Biden Administration for White House Entertaining to Heal a Nation.

Finally, Etiquetteer inaugurated the Dress Dinner Challenge during the spring quarantine, and may bring it back this winter, when we all need something to look forward to. Look for those columns in the index.

Etiquetteer would like to wish you a Safe, Healthy, Prosperous, and Perfectly Proper New Year! May 2021 return us all to a state of Perfect Propriety.