Introductions for the Absent-Minded, Vol. 11, Issue 15

Awhile back, on Etiquetteer's Facebook page (did you know Etiquetteer had a presence on Facebook? Etiquetteer uses it mostly to post relevant media articles about manners, or the lack of them, and the occasional one-line etiquette tip. Please stop by.) Etiquetteer posted a handy tip on social introductions: "When out in public with friends or acquaintances and encountering other friends or acquaintances, always introduce everyone to everyone else. No one likes to be overlooked." To which a reader replied "I would love a suggestion on what to do when I can't recall someone's name and I need to introduce them." And which led another reader to query "A problem arises when the friends you meet know you and you cannot remember ever having seen them before! Etiquetteer, what does one do then? I am quite serious."

This column endeavors to answer these questions. As Ellen Maury Slayden once said (about another situation entirely, but it still applies here): "Keep cool. This is a test of breeding."

Naturally it's very embarrassing to realize that you can't remember someone's name, or even whether or not you know them, or how. Three courses are open to you, once the flames of panic have been suppressed: introduce the other person first (though this may be out of precedence*, Etiquetteer will give you a dispensation), buy time by drawing the out the conversation hoping that a clue will jog your memory, or frankly admit that your memory has failed you. Believe it or not, the latter course is often the better one. A simple "My goodness, this is so embarrassing. I have completely forgotten your name! Please forgive me." ought to win everyone over to your side. It's such a direct appeal for sympathy, and you'll underscore it by maintaining eye contact with that person, and not looking away shamefacedly. You must then, if you can, follow it up with the memory of some kindness that person did for you, to prove that your temporary mental lapse was only the person's name, and not their value to you.

On a more comic note, you could also try the Scarlett O'Hara Approach -- "Every time I have on a new bonnet all the names I ever knew go right slap out of my head!" -- or the Tallulah Bankhead Approach -- "I don't really care what your name is, I just want to call you all Dahling, especially when you come to make love to me at five o'clock. If I'm late, start without me." The latter should startle everyone enough that you can make a clean getaway swooping off to the bar.

Whatever you do, don't try to con them into saying their own names by saying "And I've had so much trouble pronouncing your name you'd better introduce yourself." The name you've had "so much trouble pronouncing" might be "Joe Smith."

When you can't even remember who those people are, much less their names, often the best course is to ask "My goodness, I can't even remember the last time I saw you! Where was it? And what have you been up to since?" This puts the onus of the conversation on them, which should lead to many clues.

The real test of breeding is, when you discover that your own name has been forgotten by someone else, passing it off lightly and not taking it to heart. This sort of lapse happens to everyone.

*Precedence for social introductions used to be much more complicated than it is today. Etiquetteer boils it down to these:

• Gentlemen are introduced to ladies. "Mrs. Oldwitch, may I present Mr. Randy Wicket."
• Younger people are introduced to older people. "Miss Dewy Freshness, may I introduce you to Mrs. Raddled Oldwitch?"
• Junior employees are introduced to senior employees or executives, regardless of gender. "Mr. Chairman, I'd like you to meet Jeremy Filing, from the Accounting Department. Jeremy, this is Gerald Chairman."
• Everyone is introduced to elected officials, regardless of gender, age, or rank. "Mr. President, may I present Mrs. Raddled Oldwitch."

It's almost October, which means that the Perfectly Proper are already thinking about their address lists for Christmas, New Year's, or other seasonal greeting cards. Should you have queries on this or other subjects, don't hesitate to reach out to Etiquetteer at queries_at_etiquetteer_dot_com!

Seersucker and Antique Pricetags, Vol. 5, Issue 27

Dear Etiquetteer: I have a dilemma over whether it would be appropriate to wear seersucker to a wedding this weekend. The dress is not specified and the wedding begins at 7:00 PM. Is this too late in the evening to wear my seersucker suit? Do I need to wear a dark suit? I'd greatly appreciate your help. Dear Wedding Guest: Etiquetteer is delighted to hear from you and to offer assistance. Thank you for writing! If the Happy Couple didn't specify what to wear on the wedding invitation, then they deserve what they get. And seersucker during the summer months is no different from a dark suit in the winter. By all means wear your seersucker suit (with white bucks) with Perfect Propriety to the wedding, and please report back and let Etiquetteer know how it went. Actually, Etiquetteer is dying to find out what everyone else wore since the dress code was never specified! Dear Etiquetteer: Recently I gave a friend an antique vase I’d found tucked in a corner of a closet. I have no idea where it came from, but it had obviously been in that closet for some years. A pricetag was on the bottom, which must have reflected the price of the vase at some point. I left it on when I gave the vase to my friend because I’ d always heard that you keep the pricetag on an antique. But that really goes against taking the pricetag off any other kind of gift. What should I have done? Dear Tagged: Had you heard that? Etiquetteer once heard that if you put a knife under the bed, you cut the pain in two . . . Etiquetteer thinks you are confusing a couple different types of tags. Antiquarians and historians and those sorts of people are always interested in preserving as much of the past as possible. That means that original tags affixed by the makers need to be kept on antiques. This is more typical of furniture; Betty C. Monkman’s wonderful book “The White House: Its Historic Furnishings and First Families” has a wonderful section on this topic. But that does not mean that you keep anything other than the original pricetag on an antique gift. Etiquetteer has no idea what you might be digging up in your closet, but please remove pricetags before presenting your finds as gifts.

White and Other Weddings, Vol. 5, Issue 7

Etiquetteer has been exceedingly interested in the responses to date to Etiquetteer’s Wedding Survey. So many attitudes have been expressed about the color of the bridal gown that this a good time for Etiquetteer to delve into some of the history surrounding this garment.

Etiquetteer was surprised several years ago to learn that brides in ancient Rome wore gowns and veils of flaming orange. (Etiquetteer has not learned why this color was chosen; if you have any ideas, please inform Etiquetteer at once.)

The first instance Etiquetteer has heard of a white wedding gown was the first wedding of Mary, Queen of Scots, to Francis II in 1558. Mary knew how to dress to impress, and she chose a white gown for her wedding, with magnificent jewels, knowing it would set off her skin and rich auburn hair to perfection. But unrelieved white was what court ladies had always worn in mourning, so Mary’s choice raised a few regal eyebrows.

Mary’s attire for her other two weddings was equally unconventional, which ought to comfort brides eager to make their weddings ostentatiously individual. When Mary married Lord Darnley in 1565, she approached the altar as the widow of Francis II in the deuil blanc, the rigidly presecribed mourning white of the French court. Between the nuptial mass and the feasting, Mary devised a ceremony in her bedchamber where each of the nobles present would remove a pin from her wedding veil. She then changed into another gown for the two banquets and dancing that followed.

At her 1567 marriage to the Earl of Bothwell, three months after the murder of Lord Darnley, Mary appeared in alleged mourning, elaborately gold-embroidered black velvet with a white veil. And then, of course, everything fell apart: Bothwell was imprisoned in Scandinavia and Mary had her head cut off by Elizabeth I. You see what happens when a bride wears black?

Mary may have started a royal trend with her white wedding gown. The next Etiquetteer hears of it, George III’s eldest daughter, the Princess Royal, is preparing a white silk wedding gown for her own wedding. Because her groom was a widower, she was supposed to have gold embroidery, but her mother Queen Charlotte permitted her to use silver instead. Perhaps silver is purer than gold?

Detail of The Marriage of Queen Victoria, 10 February 1840, by Sir George Hayter, in the Royal Collection.

Of course the most famous example of the white gown, the one that started the craze at every level of society, was the beautiful white satin dress Queen Victoria wore at her marriage to Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha in 1840. Before that, Etiquetteer imagines everyone just trotted out their best dresses whatever the color. But Victoria changed all that, and a white satin wedding gown became the default for generations. Indeed, this mania even gets mentioned in Gone With the Wind. Rhett Butler ends up smuggling in a bolt of white satin for Maybelle Merriwether after all the wedding gowns in the Confederacy were cut up to make flags.

Of course, back in the day wedding finery was thought only Perfectly Proper for younger brides. Once you got to what Jane Austen called "the years of danger" elaborate weddings were not considered in the best of taste, because they unflatteringly called attention to the bride’s age. In Edith Wharton’s The Age of Innocence, Mrs. Archer has been saving her own wedding gown (white satin, of course) for her daughter Janey. "Though poor Janey was reaching the age when pearl gray poplin and no bridesmaids would be thought more ‘appropriate.’" Even Letitia Baldrige, who married in 1963 at age 37, chose a knee-length white suit and a white fur hat with veil rather than a full-length wedding gown. To her, one just didn’t do that after age 32.

Now, of course, first-time brides older than 25 are much more common, and this silly stigma has been lifted. Still, Etiquetteer always advises to dress appropriately to one’s age. It’s no good pretending you’re 19-year-old Miss Dewy Freshness drifting down the aisle on a cloud of tulle to the arms of 22-year-old Mr. Manley Firmness when you aren’t.

Etiquetteer has been surprised to hear from several people who just don’t like white for brides. This sharp opinion made Etiquetteer think about his grandmothers, neither of whom married in white. About 1919 Etiquetteer’s paternal grandparents married in a daytime ceremony. Held in the parlor of the bride’s family’s New Orleans boardinghouse, the bride wore a green daytime suit with fur scarf and matching hat; the groom wore his World War I army uniform because he couldn’t afford a suit.

Having no idea she was imitating the Roman brides of yore, Etiquetteer’s beloved maternal grandmother sewed and embroidered an exquisite dancing dress of bright orange crepe for her wedding in 1920. Attending a Leap Day dance with her sweetheart, they surprised everyone by leading the Grand March, which turned out to be the famous march from Lohengrin we all know as "Here Comes the Bride." A justice of the peace met them at the end and married them in the presence of the astonished and delighted company.

So you see that brides can get away with colors, but Etiquetteer just can’t approve of red for Western brides. Red, of course, is the color that Asian brides have worn for centuries, but in the West red is still the color of harlotry (as in "red-light district.") We have only to look at Madonna, who wore a strapless red gown to her wedding to fiery actor Sean Penn in 1985. Of course they got divorced in 1989; see what happens when the bride wears red?

Some references for those who are interested:

• Queen of Scots: The True Life of Mary Stuart, by John Guy

• Princesses: The Six Daughters of George III, by Flora Fraser

• Persuasion, by Jane Austen

• The Age of Innocence, by Edith Wharton

• Gone With the Wind, by Margaret Mitchell

• A Lady, First, by Letitia Baldrige