Dear Etiquetteer:
Is it true that some bluebloods use antique linen that has been laundered hundreds of times, especially if it has ancient wine stains as a way of showing they are “old money?”
Dear Dining:
Using the Good Stuff with caution but without fear is an important part of Perfect Propriety, including the more perishable Good Stuff like table linens. But Etiquetteer rejects entirely the idea that old wine stains might be used as badges of honor. Many years ago a dear friend proposed this possibility to Etiquetteer, but Etiquetteer has seen no evidence of it in research or in the field*. Indeed, Etiquetteer would almost class this as Ostentatiously Genteel. (I cannot remember who said “Gentility is what wealthy ancestors leave you when they don’t leave you their wealth,” but that is the exactly the spirit.)
Traditionally a white damask tablecloth defined a formal dinner. “Absolutely nothing else will do for a formal table setting,” states Margaret Visser in her excellent book The Rituals of Dinner: The Origins, Evolution, Eccentricities, and Meaning of Table Manners. “A great deal of its prestige rests upon the trouble such a tablecloth entails: it must be washed and pressed every time it is used, and a single stain ruins it.” [Emphasis Etiquetteer’s.]
White damask table linens have been known as costly articles, so obviously they can’t be replaced with every speck of gravy or red wine that falls on them. A few spots here and there might be permitted, but should never be discussed. Once it starts to look like a bloody skirmish might have taken place, however, it’s time to retire the cloth from active service, even if Great-Grandmother did receive it from the governor’s wife as a wedding gift. Snip out the stains and repurpose the rest for smaller tables, napkins, quilting, or even something to wear.
When the Unthinkable finally happens and a glass of red wine is spilled on your finest damask,** two things are needed immediately: salt and laughter. Pour the salt over the stain to absorb it, and pour the laughter over the situation to defuse it. Then once all the company has gone home, clear off the table, stretch the stained portion over a bucket, and pour a kettle of boiling water onto it from a height. Etiquetteer can’t remember where this Home Remedy came from, but both the heat of the water and its force hitting the material make a difference in purging the stain. Then launder as usual.
Etiquetteer wishes you acres of smooth, gleaming, and unsoiled white damask flowing over your table, and many guests around it with you deft enough not to spill anything.
*Etiquetteer is clearly too much the parvenu to receive invitations from these Old Money Families.
**Etiquetteer has done this, and it is so embarrassing.