My parents frequently lament the loss of manners and social graces in American society, and I learned everything I know about manners from them. When I was a kid, my parents, sisters, and I ate dinner together every night, and we’d all talk about our days and catch up. My sisters and I weren’t permitted to leave the dinner table until we asked to be excused, and we were expected to help with clearing plates, loading the dishwasher, and the like. When my parents had friends over to the house, the three of us daughters were put to work greeting guests, putting away coats, passing hors d’oeuvres, and generally learning how to be polite. I didn’t realize it at the time, but these family rituals taught me how to be a well-behaved kid and I grew into a classy blonde. When we reached our teen years, my father bought tome-like etiquette books for my sisters and me, and these books have served as useful reference manuals. Both of my parents are very gracious and know a lot about the appropriate things to do and ways to carry yourself based on the circumstances, and they passed that down to my sisters and me. My mother spouts off un-PC and hilarious advice and tidbits about manners. Some of her greatest hits include: “When a person snaps her gum, it’s as though she is telling the world, ‘I’m dumb, I’m dumb, I’m dumb.’ ” “Cruises are horrible.” “Red Lobster is seafood for landlocked idiots.”
I sat down with my ashy blonde mother and grilled her about assorted tidbits for keeping it classy that you might not find in your standard etiquette book. My mother was educated at a Swiss boarding school (just like that mean, icy blonde stepmother threatens in The Parent Trap) and at an all-girls school on the Upper East Side of Manhattan (just like Gossip Girl). If anybody knows about hostess gifts or the proper way to RSVP to a wedding, it’s Susan Coppock.
When I sat down with my mother to receive her data dump of etiquette rules accrued over her sixty-plus years as a classy blonde, the first thing on her mind was finger bowls. Yes, finger bowls. An antiquated part of a black-tie place setting, a finger bowl is a bowl of tepid water with a circle of lemon floating in it perched atop a small plate with a doily on it. You are meant to submerge your fingers into the water between the main course and dessert. A finger bowl is tantamount to a tiny, lemony sink that is delivered to each place setting—the old-timey equivalent of antibacterial hand gel. Outside of a manicurist’s salon, I have never encountered a finger bowl. I suspect that they were pulled out of rotation around 1968, but it was my mother’s first thought. Keep in mind that at her Deb ball at the Plaza Hotel in New York City, she had to perform a dramatic public curtsy and was escorted by not one but two males. Her father was a Victorian—born in the late 1800s—no joke. She’s from a different era, when propriety was paramount.
“Finger bowls—first thing you should have in this chapter. It’s about how to be classy? OK. At a fancy dinner, when a finger bowl is placed at your setting after the entrée, it will be placed on a paper doily and a plate. When you are done using the finger bowl, pick up the bowl and the doily and move them away from you and to the left of the plate that remains in front of you. Put it where your bread plate had been before,” she instructed me. So, should you travel back in time to a black-tie dinner circa 1940, you’ll be all set. But let’s go occasion by occasion and review some etiquette advice that my mother shared with me over the years. These are tips that you might use in the present day told through the precious lens that is me.
Dinner Parties
Never arrive at a friend’s home for a party or gathering empty-handed. Always bring something—it makes you seem rich and in the know. A small gift for the house or a bottle of nice wine is an appropriate item to take along to a dinner party or cocktail party in a friend’s home. Never bring something that the hosts must tend to immediately (cut flowers, a small rodent) as they’ll already have their hands full. Just hand them whatever brilliant gift you have brought and make a beeline to the bar or, better yet, the unmanned booze table.
If the party is a cocktail party or has a cocktail hour, you will probably find yourself attempting to hold a glass and a small plate while feeding yourself hors d’oeuvres. Humans simply do not have enough digits or hands for this! If only you were a spider at a cocktail party, am I right? This juggling of wine and plate while consuming said treats simply can’t be done, and you’ll probably end up spilling wine on the host’s carpet or, even worse, on your own clothing. So think strategically: What do you need more right now, a drink or food? If you’re hungry and need to fill up a bit, focus on food only. If the food is really good, get down on it54 because it ain’t going to last long as the party fills up with people. Shovel those miniquiches and cheese ball things in your mouth with reckless abandon so that you can switch to drinks pronto. I usually eat a snack at home before cocktail parties, which leaves me free to just hold on to a cocktail and not worry about getting seeds in my teeth. Plus, that way nobody has to be traumatized by how I look when I start chowing down on a miniquiche. It’s not pretty. I can polish off an entire tray of those babies in no time flat.55 That type of chowing down is best done, as my mother would say, en famille.
If the passed hors d’oeuvres includes something hard to eat like shrimp on skewers or drumsticks (yes, I’ve seen both served as friggity hors d’oeuvres—I know, are you friggin’ shitting me?), just don’t do it. Do you want a wrasslin’ match to go down? You vs. shrimp skewer? The skewer will take that title belt every time. I was once at a party where a young woman was absolutely mowing on a drumstick as she tried to talk to me. I was horrified. I was probably talking about something completely uncouth and ridiculous (as I am wont to do), but her caveman-like chow-down was stunningly inappropriate. You’re under no obligation to help the hostess polish off her (horribly chosen) hors d’oeuvres. Nancy Reagan’s antidrug refrain from the 1980s is what your oversize hors d’oeuvre refrain from the new millennium should be: “Just say no.”
Always offer to help the host. If it’s a party without a catering staff, then offer to pass hors d’oeuvres or refill wineglasses. It’s always greatly appreciated when someone pitches in. Plus, that way you get first dibs on the good stuff.
Once seated at a dinner party, know what belongs to you using the childlike “lowercase b–lowercase d” trick that you can do with your thumb and pointer finger. This trick reminds you that your bread plate is the one to the left, and your drinks are to the right. You might have a few different glasses at your setting. You’ll probably have water (a regular-looking tumbler), a white wine glass (a traditional wineglass, but skinnier than a red wine glass), a red wine glass (pretty fat—picture a mouse drinking his way to the bottom, then passing out56), and possibly a champagne flute (tall and thin for maximum jazzy bubbling). Be sure to put the napkin on your lap as soon as you sit down in your seat.
If you are seated at a dinner party and being served by a cater waiter, don’t start eating the food placed in front of you until everyone has been served and the host (or hostess) has begun eating. If you are at a benefit sort of event, where your table doesn’t have a “host,” then you wait for the oldest woman at the table to begin eating and you may begin after her. If you’re at a work event or it’s at all unclear, just wait for everyone to be served and for somebody else to start eating. Then lean into that dinner plate like a pig at a trough, or pour the entrée into a small bag and strap it around your ears, feedbag style.57
If the dinner party is out at a restaurant and you are being taken out to dinner, don’t order the lobster if your host is getting the pasta. Follow his or her lead with regard to price of entrée. If the host orders a salad to start and a medium-priced entrée, you can order a salad to start and a similarly priced entrée.
When eating at a restaurant, the person who orders the bottle of wine becomes the “decider” on wine.58 The waiter will bring the bottle to that person and ask him or her to taste it, look at the cork (potentially), and give the green light on that bottle. Once that person approves the bottle of wine, the waiter should pour it for the women first, then the men. Yes, formal win
e service at a restaurant was the original impetus for Queen Latifah’s 1989 jam “Ladies First.”
During the dinner party, attempt to include everyone in conversation. Be a good guest—ask questions of the people around you; talk about safe, noncontroversial topics; and engage in conversation with people on either side of you. If you act interested and ask people about their interests, you will be a dream guest (which will get you invited to more dinner parties and mean more free dinners—eyes on the prize, kid!). Don’t dominate conversation, but certainly contribute and share funny anecdotes. After you share a story, it’s nice to sort of lob the focus to another person. Like a tennis match, minus the tiny white skirts and unending cardio. If you feel like you have nothing in common with the person sitting next to you, ask them about their pets, their home, or their children. They probably have at least one of those things and people love yammering on about all of them.
When you are done eating, place your knife and fork together in the center of your plate. This indicates to the waiter that you are done eating, but it should be done whether or not there is a waiter clearing plates. If you are at a dinner party in a home, offer to help clear plates once all diners’ forks and knives are positioned this way. If the host takes you up on your offer to help clear, simply pick up a plate (and fork and knife laid across) in each hand. Don’t scrape food or stack plates too high—carrying one in each hand is plenty to make you the VIP of the dinner party.
Don’t overstay your welcome. If you attend a dinner party in a friend’s home, don’t linger much longer after dessert and coffee have been served. I have been on the hosting end of this situation when a friend just kept on chatting and drinking until four a.m., despite my comments that I was tired and really needed to hit the hay. Don’t be that guy.
If the dinner party was particularly well done, labor-intensive, or part of a visit to a friend’s home (and you spent a night or two), send a thank-you note to the host. Send a real one via snail mail. People love snail mail. Even more than they love actual snails.
Weddings
When you receive an invitation to a wedding, check your calendar as soon as possible and reply in a timely manner. As harsh as this might sound, many brides and grooms have second- and third-string invite lists (I know! It’s like high school football!), so you should RSVP to a wedding immediately so that the couple can get a head count quickly and invite additional friends if there’s room. Respond to the invitation in whatever manner is specified by that couple. Some couples include response cards, and all you need to do is check a box (chicken or fish?) and write your name. Others include the more classic blank response card, and you must write out a full response on that card. The response should be written in third person (completely weird, I know) and reiterate all necessary information. The template for this is “Selena E. Coppock accepts with pleasure the kind invitation of [insert names of people throwing the wedding] to the wedding of Alison and Brian on Saturday, September 28, 2013, at 5 o’clock in the evening.”
If you must travel for the wedding and/or stay in a hotel, book that travel and room as quickly as you can. Don’t you dare be that guy who calls the bride a week before her wedding and is like, “That hotel is all booked up—where else can I stay?” You’re an adult—book a room in the hotel block early on, or figure it out on your own. This includes transportation to and from the rehearsal dinner, the wedding, or brunch the next day. Most weddings have shuttle buses or at least small maps or directions available at the hotel, but if this wedding doesn’t, you’ve simply got to figure it out on your own. Do not bother the bride or groom in the days leading up to the wedding. They are busy fighting with their parents while posing for photos.
Dress appropriately for the event—dress, nice shoes, shawl, clutch. I always have a shawl with me at weddings because I prefer to be a bit covered up while inside the church, and then I can simply put the shawl on my chair at the reception if necessary. Later in the night, once you have busted out some sweet moves on the dance floor and worked up a sweat, the shawl can even be used as a makeshift towel for a personal sweat wipe-down.
You have twelve months after the wedding to get the couple a gift. If you have a bunch of weddings coming up, it might be easiest to simply order the gift online via the couple’s registry (wedding websites have made all of that so simple) and check that off your to-do list so that you don’t forget. If you attend the wedding alone, a gift worth fifty to a hundred dollars is pretty standard. If you brought a date, you’ll probably want to hit the high end of that rate and send a gift that’s at least a hundred. If you’re hard up for money, don’t be shy about coordinating with friends to buy a joint gift that might be easier on everybody. That’s completely fine—no one should melt their American Express card trying to keep up with their friends’ weddings. Unfortunately for me, that’s a lesson that I learned a bit too late. About twenty weddings too late.
Miscellaneous
People really appreciate traditional snail mail. A condolence card should always be sent via traditional mail. Condolence cards can be hard to write, oftentimes. Everything feels clichéd and impersonal. You can certainly lead with the standard “I’m so sorry for loss,” but then you should incorporate a few sentences about the deceased—share a positive anecdote or memory about that person. Not a memory of “that one time when we drank a bunch of Zima, then went skinny-dipping,” but a family-appropriate memory. You can keep that Zima/skinny-dipping memory to yourself.
If you are staying at a friend’s home, always bring something along when you arrive. This hostess gift can be of any sort, really, since the hostess isn’t busy with a dinner party in that case. Nice ideas include something for the home (a candle, potpourri, a seasonal tabletop decoration) or food (a nice bread or jam for the next day’s breakfast, or a bottle of wine).
Try to remember personal anecdotes or things that friends or acquaintances tell you. This makes you seem really sweet (even if you’re faking it) and thoughtful. Develop memorization techniques to aid memory. I’m a very visual person, so I do visualization exercises where I think about the person and picture whatever it is that they told me. For instance, if my friend Ali says that her laptop was stolen, I’ll picture that scene in my head. Then, the next time I’m in the card section of CVS buying a card for my lovely grandmother (we’re pen pals59), the image of Ali losing her laptop might spring to mind and I’ll buy her a card just to say hello and wish her well. Visualization: If it’s a good enough strategy to help sports stars win big games, it’s a good enough strategy to help me remember random bullshit.
My classy blonde mother and brown-haired father taught me many useful lessons in childhood, but manners and appropriate behavior are the ones that pay off every day. You can’t fake that stuff—you must know how to function in polite society. That way, even if your color has gotten a bit faded and might be considered brassy, you’re still considered a classy blonde.
CHAPTER 12
RULE: Channel Blonde Wisdom
Dear reader, you’re savvy enough to laugh at blonde jokes but deep down know that blonde gals are smarter than they look. Public opinion is certainly shifting, but it’s up to us blonde ladies to complete the dismantling of blonde stereotypes by showcasing our smarts whenever we can. Let’s push forward with intelligence, hope, and change (but not be afraid to embrace the stereotype when it’s handy).
This chapter is a useful gathering of million-dollar words that you can drop in conversation when necessary. If you should find yourself trapped in conversation at a cocktail party or dinner gathering with a smarmy jerk who is being patronizing and you can tell that he thinks that you’re just another ditzy blonde, drop one of these bad boys and watch what happens. I can guarantee that the know-it-all’s entire world will be turned upside down by the mere suggestion that you might be even remotely intelligent. Revel in this moment, as you stand by and watch this jerk bag have a Death of a Salesman–like existential crisis. This type of person seems to almost resent
when a spunky gal with good hair dares to understand complicated issues, possess sophisticated vocabulary, or hold her own in conversation. Know-it-alls tend to think that there is a finite quantity of intelligence in the world, and if you have any, that means that there is less for him. So toss out “zaftig” in reference to a portly congresswoman and watch what happens. It won’t be pretty, but it will be awesome.
You were smart enough to pick up this book, so obviously you’re whip-smart, but your smarts may be somewhat specialized. Perhaps you’re like me, and a lifelong addiction to hair metal bands has resulted in your near-encyclopedic knowledge of metal band minutiae. Or maybe you’re a hypochondriac, and as a result, you know a ton about diseases and disorders. Or perhaps you spent many happy hours during childhood watching your local major league baseball team, so now you know everything about America’s favorite pastime. That’s great. Don’t be shy about revealing that stuff during conversations with strangers. You’re a smart cookie—show it off.
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