Miss Manners^®

How many of you gentlemen are engaged in righteous protests, fueled by outrage that it is your own closest relatives and friends who are pressuring you to betray your principles?

Miss Manners finds it amazing how worked up gentlemen can get when they are asked to dress up. Those simple words, "black tie," make them see red.

Not all of them, of course. Some who see red are willing to don evening clothes if only they can turn the outfit into something more sprightly. So they add red ties and cummerbunds, or pink ones, or, if they stick to black ties, ones that come in funny configurations.

This is a whimsical, although curiously un-amusing, form of protest. Diehards will refuse to wear any semblance of evening clothes, preferring either to defy their hosts or to stay home and sulk.

Miss Manners has never succeeded in finding out what this was really all about -- but not for lack of hearing gentlemen's laments.

The chief complaint is that evening clothes are uncomfortable. Mind you, we are not talking about white tie, with its stiff shirt, waistcoats and tails -- the get-up in which orchestra conductors habitually jump up and down and flail their arms about.

Most formal events now require only the dinner jacket, once the informal alternative to full evening dress. This is cut like any ordinary suit, with which a soft shirt may be worn, so if it is less comfortable than other suits, complaints should be directed at one's tailor, not one's hosts. Especially if they come from people wearing tight jeans.

A distaste for conformity is a big issue to those for whom casual is law. But Miss Manners is afraid that any credibility this argument might have is undermined by those who make it. They have the impertinent habit of hectoring gentlemen who don't conform to their dress code of jeans or khakis and T-shirts, ordering them to take off their jackets and ties.

Another professed objection is based on the antique notion that evening clothes are the costume of comic-strip plutocrats who smoke cigars and hang onto lampposts for balance. Americans used to pity and be amused by countries where the citizens all wore drab work clothes and the leaders were belligerently underdressed for state occasions; now those people have discovered fashion, and we wear drab work clothes and are suspicious of formality.

Miss Manners suspects that what it really signifies is the reluctance of anyone over drinking age to be taken for an adult. While very young gentlemen are dressing like hardened thugs, their elders are trying not to look grown up. (The gentlemen, that is. As pubescent girls affect the jaded hussy look, their elders feel safe in doing so, too.)

This seems a particularly bad bargain. If forfeiting stylistic variety and glamour could purchase eternal youth, Miss Manners (who was born old and marches happily on from there) supposes it might be worthwhile. But it has become just another compensation -- along with precedence and other forms of respect -- that adults have given up, for which they have gotten nothing in return.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have a dilemma that I suspect only you can adequately address, given that it involves a lady fainting.

I dressed much too warmly for a Christmas party at the home of my husband's colleague and, in true Victorian style, overheated and fainted dead away. My genial host, along with my husband and two other guests, caught me, carried me to the living room, and revived me most graciously. The gentlemen reviving me were all surgeons and were mildly disappointed that I was experiencing no abdominal distress, but they hid their disappointment as best they could.

The dilemma I am experiencing is that I do not know how to adequately thank my hosts (a married couple with small, darling children) for their kindness. I know that tending to my needs took them away from their other guests and, frankly, I feel awful about it. I try so hard to be a pleasant, low-maintenance guest.

GENTLE READER: Flowers. Normally these are presented to a lady who has brought off a melodramatic dramatic scene, but Miss Manners would consider it a graceful gesture to your hosts who played the supporting roles, as it were.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am in my mid-30s, single and childless by choice, and I live in a large city three hours away from my parents, who still live in my rural childhood home. Every year starting around Dec. 1, they are inundated with calls from my old classmates and ex-boyfriends who are calling to see when I'll be home for the holidays -- they want to "catch up" with me.

I have no interest in speaking with any of these people again, much less spending a few hours with them and their screaming children (they never want to come and visit ME, they want me to stop by their parents' houses where 15-plus hyper children are running amok).

I was finished with these people years ago, but they are oblivious to that fact (especially the ex-boyfriends). One persistent fellow phoned my parents' home every other day starting on Thanksgiving, asking if they had relayed his phone number to me (they had) and wondering aloud why I hadn't phoned him yet.

I don't know who gets more irritated, my parents or me. Do you know of a gentle way to permanently discourage someone from bugging the living crap out of my folks?

GENTLE READER: Madam, please control yourself. You do not have to see these people, but you need not use such language about people who were your friends and whose crime is their continued interest and offers of hospitality. And Miss Manners will fastidiously refrain from commenting on your attitude toward children.

There is no polite way to tell well-meaning old friends that you never want to see them again. Your parents should say firmly that they don't know what your plans are but know that you are terribly booked up; if repeatedly implored, they can only repeat that they have given you the message.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: This year, my husband and I are playing host for our family's Christmas celebration. My mother plans to bring her current beau, and he is Jewish. We like and respect him, and we want him to feel welcome in our family celebration, but we do not want to offend him by either ignoring his traditions or by participating in traditions we have no rights to. How can we, as gracious hosts, adjust our celebration to include his traditions?

GENTLE READER: With the best intentions in the world, you could embarrass and offend your guest by introducing some element that you consider Jewish into your Christmas party.

American Jews have a wide variety of ways of dealing with the centrality of Christmas, from ignoring it to adapting the customs for Hanukkah to participating in the secular aspects. These attitudes are not framed lightly, and you cannot hope to guess this gentleman's.

If you are having other Jewish guests with whom you are on close terms, you could ask them to help you make your party somewhat ecumenical. Simply singling out a newcomer smacks of saying, "Oh, look, there's a Jew here." You should either de-emphasize the religious aspect of your celebration or accept him as a welcome observer of the same, and a full participant in the social aspect.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am the mother of a 17-year-old daughter. I was also, some number of years ago, a Playboy bunny.

It's been my custom to not mention that fact because of the reputations of Playboy bunnies. However, in my case being a bunny meant I had money for college, graduate school and a yearlong trip to Europe.

My daughter has approached me about being allowed to tell her friends. She says they see all these gorgeous women on television and in magazines and her friends feel better when they realize just normal people (like me) can look like that. It seems a reasonable request, but I'm concerned about what her friends' parents will think. I don't want to swear these kids to secrecy about my (very) past life, but I don't want to be thought of as a slut either.

I'd appreciate any opinions you might have (and I bet you have a few) on how to best handle this. Am I just being silly and old-fashioned?

GENTLE READER: Let us hope so. An old-fashioned lady who is a bit flustered when it becomes known that she wasn't a totally old-fashioned girl and, before that, an old-fashioned baby, is charming. It adds just enough spice to keep her respectability from being cloying. And it makes her infinitely more charming than a mother who makes a point of showing how modern and racy she is.

Miss Manners means no slight to your daughter when she says that you might as well let her tell, because she is bursting with it -- if, indeed, she hasn't already told all her friends in strictest confidence. That would be the same strictest confidence in which they all told their mothers. You may take it as a given that even trustworthy people who swear never to tell anyone else are exempting their intimates from that category.

So (to use the ploy by which reporters pry quotes from those trying to duck public attention), don't you want to get the true story out there?

Your version cannot be that this was a universally innocent occupation, because there are too many other bunnies' stories out there. On the contrary, you need to explain that it was possible to hold this job without engaging in any immoral behavior.

And while the financial angle is relevant, you do not want to let your daughter think that money nullifies all questions about how it is earned. You can cover that by saying, "Looking back, perhaps I might have made a different choice."

DEAR MISS MANNERS: What does one do with Christmas carolers? They are quite marvelous, but I never know quite how to react.

Wonderful young people who come in great good spirits to sing carols at one's front door -- do I stand at the open door, listening while I freeze and the house grows as cold as an Arctic igloo, or do I stay inside the warmth and smile through the window, or do I try to bring them all in out of the cold (to sing inside) and hope that I have some cookies or something to offer?

GENTLE READER: You are allowed to peek and wave from the window if, when they finish, you open the door to thank them. But Miss Manners wonders why, if you are fortunate enough to have caroling neighbors, you might not have cookies and hot punch on hand to offer them.

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