Etiquetteer Reviews Amy Alkon's "Good Manners for Nice People Who Sometimes Say F*ck," Vol. 14, Issue 9

The closest Etiquetteer has ever thought about the intersection of Etiquette and Science has been what to wear when accepting a Nobel Prize. So it was first with mounting surprise that Etiquetteer read Amy Alkon's bracing Good Manners for Nice People Who Sometimes Say F*ck, and then with the excitement that comes with Received Wisdom So Obvious One Wonders Why One Hadn't Already Known It. This colorful volume may be the perfect etiquette book for nerds, because Alkon refers frequently to scientific research that explains why humans behave the way they do, and the steps we need to take, individually and as a community, to live together harmoniously.* For instance, everyone is irritated by intrusive cell phone conversations. Alkon tells her readers why, citing research from Cornell about "halfalogues." Turns out a different part of our brain gets engaged listening to someone on the phone; we're all trying to figure out what the other half of the conversation is, whether we want to or not! And this is only one example. Her "science-based theory that we're experiencing more rudeness than ever because we recently lost the constraints on our behavior that were in place for millions of years" is thoroughly researched and piquantly presented. Just for the term "inconsiderado" alone this book is worth reading.

It's interesting to consider how this volume differs from the etiquette books of the last century. When one reads the works of Emily Post, Lillian Eichler, Millicent Fenwick, Amy Vanderbilt, etc., one is more likely to be reading about formal dinners, country house weekends, weddings at home, and behavior with and toward servants. Etiquetteer attributes this to Americans who cared about manners reading about the manners of those one or more rungs above them on the social scale, as well as to a more general feeling of respect toward Refinement and Gracious Living. (Nowadays, we see a more defensive respect of Comfort and Casualness. Etiquetteer says "defensive" because the most zealous defenders of those qualities use them to justify Sloppiness and Selfishness.)

These writers wrote about the rules and how to follow them, but much less so about how to interact with those who would not follow them - beyond, of course, excluding them from one's society. Reading these books, we forget that rudeness still took place in the past. (It should surprise no one that there has always been rudeness. This is the true reason why etiquette books came into being.) Alkon writes feelingly about issues all of us without servants have to face in daily life: double parking, intrusive cell phone conversations, inconsiderate neighbors, litterbugs, and combat driving.

Etiquetteer was especially impressed with Alkon's addressing of issues most of those early 20th-century etiquette writers never had to face: air travel. Security requirements - how Etiquetteer deplores the "security theatre" of having to remove garments and be X-rayed! - and the reduction of personal space and addition of baggage fees by the airlines have created even more challenges to Perfect Propriety. Alkon calls these out, and also calls on air travelers to show some needed respect for flight attendants: "Flight attendants are supposed to provide food and beverage service, not servitude."

Etiquetteer will admit to smiling with delight reading Alkon's owning of the "etiquette aunties," a group into which Etiquetteer could likely be lumped: ". . . quite a bit of the the advice given by traditional etiquette aunties is rather arbitrary, which is why one etiquette auntie advises that a lady may apply lipstick at the dinner table and another considers it an act only somewhat less taboo than squatting and taking a pee in the rosebushes." Alkon may be the perfect etiquette auntie for the 21st century: less likely to be pouring tea for the D.A.R. at home, more likely to be in coffee shops politely letting the oblivious know that their headphones are leaking. Read this book.

*Of course Etiquetteer immediately remembered Rose Sayer, Katharine Hepburn's character in The African Queen, saying "Nature, Mr. Allnut, is what we are put on this earth rise above."

A Gentleman’s Accessories, Vol. 6, Issue 6

Dear Etiquetteer:

Recently, I decided to use my 1920's pocket watch. For convenience, I've been thinking about using a watch fob. However, are there rules about where the fob hangs from? Also, does the metal of the fob have to match the metal of the watch?

Dear Timely:

A watch fob usually hangs at the other end of the watch chain. If you were wearing your pocket watch on a waistcoat, you’d put the watch in the pocket on one side, loop the chain through a buttonhole in the center, and stick the fob in the other pocket. With a pair of jeans – more common these days, alas – you put the watch in the watch pocket, loop the chain through a belt loop and then clip the chain to the belt loop. That would expose the fob; some might find that too showy.

Believe it or not, Etiquetteer has actually seen photographs of 19th century gentlemen with their watch chains looped through their lapel buttonholes, with their watches in their breast pockets! That fashion, Etiquetteer can safely say, is now as outmoded as spats.

Curiously, none of the etiquette writers of the past laid down any guidelines on whether the fob and chain had to match. Indeed, sometimes fobs were set with precious or semi-precious stones with a seal carved into them; Etiquetteer imagines they were actually used with sealing wax on letters.

The dictum those etiquette writers do lay down, however, is that all of a gentleman’s jewelry be as plain and unostentatious as possible. Remember what that little gnomish woman said in Unzipped: "Fussy, finished!" So as you commence your search for a Perfectly Proper fob, permit Etiquetteer to steer you to some of the better antique stores for assistance. As the late Amy Vanderbilt once said, "Heirlooms are never out of fashion."

Dear Etiquetteer:

For Christmas I was given some handkerchiefs with my first initial on them. The only problem with that is that I’m a guy. I was always taught that men have their last initials on handkerchiefs. Do I give them back and ask for the correct initial or keep them and have hankies that are wrong?

Dear Initialed:

First of all, no, you may not ask the giver to exchange the gift. Good heavens . . . just use those handkerchiefs anyway! Etiquetteer hopes you aren’t calling so much attention to them that people would notice the initial in the first place.

Marking linens (handkerchiefs, sheets, towels, underwear, etc.) with initials and monograms got started to be sure everyone got their own laundry back from the laundress, not as a status symbol. While it’s Perfectly Proper to have your handkerchiefs marked, it’s bad form to show it off.

Second, you are, in fact, correct about initials. A gentleman’s linen, when not monogrammed with all three initials, is embroidered with only his last initial. Ladies use the first initial.

Dear Etiquetteer: Is there a comfortable way to wear a tie bar? I just got one and I can’t stop wrestling with it during the day.

Dear Fit to be Tied: Etiquetteer considers the tie bar an unnecessary accessory for a gentleman nowadays. It’s actually a little déclassé as far as Etiquetteer is concerned -- not quite as bad as dental grills and other gangsta bling, but definitely not for the discriminating gentleman. Please just tuck it gently into your jewelry box and forget all about it.

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