Fine Ladies Series: Diana Vreeland

Elegance is innate.

It has nothing to do with being well dressed.

Elegance is refusal.

- Diana Vreeland

Diana Vreeland, née Dalziel, was never incredibly rich, but she was certainly high-society. And she was inarguably a force to be reckoned with.

Diana was born into such relatives and ancestors as George Washington, Francis Scott Key, and Pauline de Rothschild, but the personal friends she made for herself included Jackie Kennedy, Cole Porter, Gertrude Lawrence, and the Duchess of Winsor. Diana single-handedly revolutionized the world of fashion in ways no other woman ever has, before or after her. She personally oversaw more than a half-century of couture.

She served as fashion editor of Harper’s Bazaar for 25 years, and then as editor-in-chief at Vogue for another 9. Then, at the age most women retire entirely, Diana took on a completely different career as a museum curator for the Costume Institute of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She was 69 years old at the time.

What on earth makes Diana Vreeland so special? Simply put, she was not a traditionally pretty woman, and she still managed to be the embodiment of timeless elegance. She was famous for her incredibly classic style, dressed up with a single fantastic accessory – always the precisely perfect thing. You would never have caught Diana Vreeland with a ring on each finger, or a matching purse-belt-shoes combination. She combined, instead, simple good taste with a dash of contemporary updates.

Her clothing was the essence of chic – a simple dress, properly accessorized, one outstanding object that explained everything, not twenty expensive baubles that meant nothing.

Blair Schulman, essayist

A transcendentalist of sorts, she learned early on not to rely on other women to be her role model. Instead, she would rely on herself. As a young woman, she wrote in her diary, I shall be that girl.

Early on, she studied ballet, which lead her to appreciate fluid movement, which she became known for – Diana knew the precise right fabric necessary to achieve the exact flow she wanted, both when a woman moved and when she was standing still. I personally believe that the only woman who exercises that kind of precision today is Vera Wang.

Diana Vreeland did not simply rely on the fashion houses of Paris, as many editors in years past, but drew inspiration from India, Africa, the South Pacific, and the Middle East.

She unapologetically loved the color red – she’s famous for saying that she wanted her famous living room to be decorated “like a garden – but in hell.” Likewise, her office was also a bright red. “I can’t imagine being bored with red,” she’d say. Her assistants said that after she left Vogue, her old office went beige, her leopard rug was replaced with beige, and Vogue went beige along with them.

When her husband died, she grieved intensely, but never in public. During her first trip to Paris after her husband’s death, she found an evening dress that she liked. Then the vendeuse suggested black, she replied, “Certainly not. In red. I don’t want to remind anyone that I’m in mourning. That’s my business.”

She published her own biography, entitled simply D.V., in 1984, in which she writes:

I loathe nostalgia. One night at dinner in Santa Domingo at the Oscar de la Rentas’ Swifty Lazar, the literary agent, turned to me and said, “The problem with you, dollface,” – that’s what he always calls me – “is that your whole world is nostalgic.”

“Listen Swifty,” I said, “We all have our own ways of making a living, so shut up!”

Then I punched him in the nose. He was quite startled. He picked up a china dinner plate and put it under his jacket to protect his heart. So I took a punch at the china plate!

Nostalgia – imagine! I don’t believe in anything before penicillin.

Upon her death, Jackie Kennedy Onassis was the last woman to be logged into the call book by Diana’s nurses still at home.

Makeup 101: A Primer

The conventions of small Southern towns dictate that a lady doesn’t even run to the supermarket without a full face of makeup. Even my mother, who’s usually incredibly sensible, would say to me “Are you going out like that?” if I left the house sans lipstick.

When I was thirteen, I had a girlfriend a year older than me who’s mother more or less let her run wild. My mother was driving us to the movies when she overheard our conversation in the backseat.

“You’d look really great in blue eyeshadow,” my friend, fourteen years old herself, confided in me. “Really, I could apply it for you.” She herself was made up in poorly applied black eyeliner and some sort of bright pink glitter.

I thought my mother was going to have a coronary; I could see her visibly stiffening in the front seat not only from the realization that her daughter was old enough to start wanting makeup, but also the suggestion of blue eyeshadow in general.

“Mom,” I asked, throwing my voice up front, “Can I wear eyeshadow?”

She didn’t hesitate.

“No you may not.”

“But,” I protested, gesturing to my best friend, “Lissa-Ann’s mother lets her wear eyeshadow.” Lissa-Ann nodded enthusiastically and then fluttered her eyelashes to show that this was true. Little known to both of us, Lissa-Ann would be graduating high school a year early in a shot-gun marriage. Perhaps she foresaw this in her future, though, because my mother didn’t even glance in the rearview mirror.

“I don’t give a damn what Lissa-Ann’s mother lets her do,” she said, “You’re my daughter and I say no.”

But I’d started the wheels turning, and with my oily, Italian skin, it was soon apparent that I was going to need makeup or face endless teasing once I got to high school.

Did she let me run wild through the makeup section of our local pharmacy? No. Did she even let me choose what makeup I wanted to wear – which would have been blue mascara and silver eyeshadow? No.

She first took me to a dermatologist, who recommended Clinique’s line of products, because I was allergic to so many things. And then she took me to the Clinique counter at Dillard’s, where a flawlessly made up 60 year old woman made me up in a powder foundation, light mascara, and rose blush that doubled as eyeshadow. Then she took a half-hour to explain patiently how to apply everything.

Ironically, out of all the other girls my age trying desperately to look older, I was the only one who didn’t look like a thirteen year-old playing dressup.

As I get older, though, I appreciate her efforts more and more as I see so many women my age who obviously have no idea how to apply makeup or choose colors. And it’s not because they’re dumb – it’s because no one ever taught them.

I still use Clinique. And every once in awhile, I contemplate if their products are really worth so much money, and I go out and buy a drug-store brand, and then I regret it as soon as I make my face up. And back to Clinique I go.

But Clinique is not the only solution out there – and having great makeup still does nothing for you if you don’t know how to apply it. So here’s a little mini-guide to what I’ve learned over sixteen colors of eyeshadow and more than a decade of daily application.

Makeup 101: A Primer

Let’s start at the beginning:

FOUNDATION

Application: I apply my liquid foundation with clean fingers, as this has always worked best, but I also know many women perfectly capable of wielding a brush. Foundation brushes require daily cleaning, and so I use them as little as possible. When applying your liquid foundation, be careful to blend it lightly – pulling your skin many result in bruising, discoloration, and a loss of elasticity over time.

Products: I have oily, olive skin, hazel eyes, and dark hair and lashes. I know plenty of fair-skinned blondes who never wear foundation, but olive skin like mine can easily look sallow because of the yellow undertones, and so it’s important that I choose my foundation wisely. If you decide to wear foundation, don’t skimp on it. No amount of great eyeshadow or flattering blush will cover up cakey or uneven foundation.

For those of you out there with oily skin, I can not say enough good things about Clinique’s Oil-Free Superfit Liquid Foundation. ($19.50. If you’re counter-shopping, it should be the only liquid foundation in a plastic, not glass, bottle.) Their “moderately fair – neutral” shade works best for me, but if you are Latina, you may want to try their “medium” levels instead.

I follow this up with Clinique’s Gentle Light Powder ($22.50) in “Glow 3 Neutral,” because it has just enough sparkle to appear glowy. I don’t use compacts or pressed powders because it’s too easy for my excess oil to transfer back to the powder and breed bacteria. (If your pressed powder has that rugged look or has formed little ridges, throw it out – those are bacteria colonies multiplying by the microsecond.)

Beauty on a Budget: I work from home, and so on the days I’m not going to be seeing anyone particularly important, I wear CoverGirl’s TruBlend liquid foundation in buff beige ($8.64 at drugstores). It’s definitely liquid, but feels a bit like whipped cream when you apply it. This still freaks me out, but the coverage is perfectly acceptable for running to the bank, etc., and although it doesn’t hold up as long as Clinique’s does, it’s a fine inexpensive alternative. I stay away from their Clean Makeup line, because it never seems to have enough coverage for my uneven skin-tone.

BLUSH

Products: I also rely heavily on Clinique’s Soft-Pressed Powder blush ($18.50). If I had to recommend only three products to women, it would be foundation, mascara, and blush. Blush is about the only thing that keeps me still looking perky at five o’clock in the afternoon. Generally, if you’re fairer skinned, you can get away with brighter pinks. For me, I stick to the “tawnies,” which means more brown than purple. The same rule applies to lipstick.

Beauty on a Budget: Origins also has great blushes ($18.50), although they’re not a penny less expensive. In a pinch (like on our honeymoon, when I forgot all my makeup at home), CoverGirl’s blush works just fine. If you don’t do a lot of contouring or don’t wear a lot of blush, you can get away just fine with skimping. If you find yourself in the grocery store or pharmacy and don’t want to be that woman who breaks open the makeup to test it, go for CoverGirl’s Instant Cheekbones Contouring blush ($5.50 at drugstores). It comes with three shades:  a medium and dark shade will let you play, while a more beige shade will let you neutralize things if you put it on too heavy.

Application: If I’m guilty of one thing, it’s too much blush. What looks perfectly normal in Dallas, Memphis, and Atlanta looks increasingly heavy the further north you travel on the East Coast. Do your best to suit your blush application to yourself first, and then to your workplace or geographical region.

Because my skin is oily, cream blushes seem to work better on me that they do for my girlfriends with excessively dry skin.

Vanessa has a pretty great tutorial on blush on YouTube. She’s wearing a lot more makeup than many of you will be comfortable with, but she has a great explanation of all those tricky questions, like contouring (she has a round face, like me, and likes to narrow it), as well as how to avoid harsh lines (tap the excess off, ladies).

She recommends MAC products, and while I’ll stick with Clinique for my foundation and blush, they have incredibly fun, long lasting eyeshadows ($14.50 for one color, $36 for a compact of four colors) are, hands down, have the best selection of high quality brushes ($11 – $62). I’m also a total sucker for their loose-powder pigments ($19.50). If you simply must have blue mascara, this is the place to get it.

MASCARA

Products: If you’re going the high-end route, I’ve got a couple of recommendations. For the daytime, or if I’m going to be traveling, I wear Clinique’s Lash Power Long Wearing Formula ($14.00). It’s a nice, medium consistency and the brush is small, which helps in covering the small lashes closest to your nose and your bottom lashes. It truly does wear all day, but you do need warm water to get it off at night – even my eye makeup removers won’t touch it.

If I’m going out in the evening, I wear Clinique’s High Impact Mascara ($14.00). I am blessed with thick, long lashes, and so I need a thick, fat brush to achieve a dramatic look – otherwise it’s like trying to put out a fire with a watergun.

Application: Don’t pump the mascara brush in and out of the bottle eighty-seven times. You think you’re getting more mascara on the brush, but that’s not the way mascara bottles work – each time you do that, you’re adding air to the bottle, which will dry out your mascara twice as fast.

Start with clean lashes – no traces of last night’s girls night out. Hold the mascara wand horizontally and apply one coat, starting at the base and making a gentle sawing motion back and forth on your way up. This will fully coat and separate your lashes. Insert the wand back into the bottle and remove it, then move onto the next eye. When your lashes are dry, go back and do them again. Applying two or three coats while they’re still wet will just make your mascara clump.

Some experts recommend switching the mascara wand vertically to apply mascara to your bottom lashes. This always end up with too much mascara for me, and besides, I’m not dexterous enough to avoid stabbing myself in the cheekbone. Instead, I still hold the wand horizontal, but use a separate mascara with a thin wand and delicate bristles.

Beauty on a Budget: Origins Full Story mascara comes in a mere 50 cents cheaper, but is still a safe bet. Once again, CoverGirl is my “in a pinch” weapon of choice. While you can sometimes get away with cheap blush, cheap mascara will almost always bite you in the ass – it will clump or flake as the day goes on. CoverGirl Lash Exact ($8.00 at drugstores) has funky, flexible plastic bristles that tame my thick lashes nicely, and it wears well.

EYESHADOW

Products: It’s true that using a light, pearlescent eyeshadow in the inside corner of your eye and under your bottom lashes will open up your eyes, making them larger and brighter. (If six years of theatrical training has taught me anything, this is it.) For years, I bought Clinique’s expensive ColorSurge Eyeshadow in Sugar Sugar ($14.00).

Then, I got locked out of my apartment before an important event and had to beg a shower, makeup, and clothing off of my best friend across town. I discovered Loreal’s Wear Infinite Eye Shadow in Frosted Icing ($3.82 at drugstores), which is almost a perfect stand-in for Clinique’s Sugar Sugar.

Application: If you can afford it, I recommend a primer of some sort for your eyelids. Almost none of them are inexpensive. It’s not utterly necessary if you start with a completely clean, dry eyelid, but it certainly helps your eyeshadow stay in place and wear longer, and usually prevents those little lines of shadow that can form in the creases of your lid. Your eyelids are incredibly porous (think several layers of tissue paper) and more prone to trapping oil than the rest of your face – just smearing regular foundation on your eyelids is not going to work like it will on the rest of you.

MAC makes a reliable primer ($16.00), but my favorites are still Clinique’s Touch Base for Eyes. They are entirely correct when they say “No smear, no fade, no creasing.” I buy mine in light colors (canvas, buff, petal) and then layer my eyeshadow over it.

Prime your eyes, whether this means applying a primer or simply making sure all your eye makeup is off. Then, choose your color. If you use only a single color, your goal should be to subtly draw attention to your eyes. Don’t necessarily try to match your eye color; instead, use a contrasting color. (My eyes are hazel, with a little bit of green; I choose shades of purple to play this up.) If you have brilliant blue or green eyes, go ahead and experiment with jeweled blue or green shadows, but don’t overdo it – the goal is for people to notice your eyes, not your shadow.

Two or three colors allows for a more bold or playful execution. My standard application is to apply a pearlescent light shadow on my lid, in the corner next to my nose, under my bottom lashes, and directly beneath my eyebrow on my brow-bone. Next, I take a darker color (violet, for example) and apply it on the outside of my eye to 1/3 of the way inward. Then I sweep a medium color (lavender, for example) over the rest of the lid. Be sure to blend well; you don’t want distinct lines between your colors.

Before and After TV has an excellent tutorial on getting an overall natural look; eyeshadow begins at 2:50 and continues with some good advice on eyeliner and blending.

EYELINER

Products: Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I wore liquid eyeliner. It was an absolute pain in my ass, but I was having a “runway-dramatic, even at 3:00 in the afternoon, and fuck ya’ll if you don’t like it” phase. (What can I say? I was drinking a lot.) Since then, I’ve acquired a husband, a mortgage, a full-time job, and two small dogs. My makeup routine has been slashed from forty-five minutes to ten. And the best thing I’ve found for ten-minute makeup routines (on a plane! on a bus! while driving, although don’t tell the highway patrol I said that!) has been Clinique’s Quickliner for Eyes.

(My copy-and-paste ability has crapped out on this laptop, so you’ll have to go search for these products yourself from this point on. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!)

This eyeliner has an 1/8″ swivel pencil (no sharpening!) and a smudging tool on the other end. Brilliant.

Application: Eyeliner is tricky. Eyeliner is maybe the trickiest thing out there, if you don’t want to end up looking like Pam Anderson or Brigitte Nielsen. I’m not the woman to teach you this. Marlena at Makeup Geek is totally the woman to teach you this. She goes over liquid, pencils, gels, and eyeshadows as eyeliners. She also details high-end and drug-store recommendations.

LIPSTICK/LIPLINER

Products: I have long-since given up lipstick in favor of lip glosses and more liquid colors. Right now, my all-around best bet is Origins Liquid Lip Color in Bonfire ($14.95). It adds a definite color without being overwhelming or harsh; it’s ideal for daywear. I also adore Clinique’s Almost Lipstick ($14.00); it goes on creamy but not heavy, and adds just the right amount of color.

Application: The general rule (compliments of my Mama) is to play up either your eyes or your lips at any given time – never both. This doesn’t mean to make one up and leave the other completely bare, it just means don’t be dramatic with both at the same time. I naturally have very dramatic doe-eyes, and so I tend to use more subtle, barely-there shades on my lips.

When I do play up my lips, however, I like red. (“Slut-red,” as Mama calls it.) It’s both vintage and classic, and very daring. If you do it right, it’ll set you apart from every Burt’s-Bees-Wearing Woman in the room. If you are going for dramatic, though, use a lip-liner. And here’s why:

A lipliner is a different formula than a lipstick. It’s not as glossy, and it will stay put. The idea is to use a liner to circle your lips, like a fence, to keep all that color from bleeding out or smearing.

Since I seldom wear “real” lipstick, I’m going to turn you over to the ladies at Real Simple for this tutorial.

As a final piece of advice, if you’re an older woman, stay away from frosted lipstick. It never occurred to me that women of different ages should wear different lipsticks until my mother was in the passenger seat of my car at the airport one day, and asked, “Do you have any lipstick?”

I tossed mine over to her, and she flipped down the little visor mirror.

“AHHHHHHHH,” she screamed approximately three seconds later.

“What? What?!” I asked.

“IT’S FROSTED,” she said, staring at her mouth in horror. And sure enough, she was right. What looked perfectly acceptable on a woman in her mid-twenties looked perfectly ridiculous on a woman with the same complexion in her late-fifties.

Beauty on a Budget: Time and time again, from professional makeup artists right down to my girlfriends, the best lipstick/lipliner bang-for-your-buck is proven to be Wet ‘n Wild. No, I’m not kidding. Don’t believe me? Go out and buy Wet ‘n Wild’s Perfect Pair (lipstick and lipliner on one applicator) for just $3.99 at your local drugstore.

Martha Stewart can bite me

Jackie O’ generally distrusted Martha Stewart because she didn’t believe hospitality should be product-driven.

I’m starting to think there’s something to that.

Martha, I love your Homekeeping Handbook. I’ll even link to it – see? Without you, I would never have known how to fold a fitted sheet, or remove stains from my hardwood floors.

But, girl, your lie about baking. Oh, you lie.

I’m a baker. Now, I can turn out a mean roast, and I can make most any side dish, and my homemade alfredo sauce can not be beaten. But mostly, I bake. I am a pro at baking.

And Jesus Christ, woman, not one of your recipes I have ever made has not resulted in emotional trauma.

Let’s forget that your “easy” chocolate gingerbread cake requires 16 ingredients that all have to be combined and added at different intervals.

Let’s forget that your Halloween cookies are much the same, only requiring apricot jam, molasses, and aspic cutters. Let’s forget that apricot jam tastes like butt on chocolate cookies. Let’s forget that the dough for these cookies will not set up with an ounce of humidity in the air.

Let’s set allllll that aside and talk about your Christmas Tree Cupcakes.

Here’s a photograph, so readers can keep up:

Now these don’t look that hard. Really. The premise is that you use inverted waffle ice cream cones, lined with parchment paper and held upright by an aluminum baking pan with holes cut in it. You fill these babies with cupcake batter, and bake them. Supposedly, after they’re baked, you slip them out, take off the parchment, and voila! Christmas tree cupcakes ready for icing.

You have overlooked, Martha, that ice cream cones are fragile things. Maybe you have a stash of designer, industrial strength ones – I wouldn’t put it past you. But for those of us who have to shop at Kroger, this means jack shit.

After preparing another 16 ingredient batch of batter, which was more like syrup than cupcake batter and required an extra-emergency cup of flour, I managed to finagle it into the cones. Nevermind that this required getting it all over me, my bathrobe, the stove, the counter, the floor, AND, let’s not forget, the dogs.

That’s fine. I’m cool with that. (The dogs are way cool with that.) Cooler than cool – ice cold, as the kids say.

My beef is with the actual baking.

10 minutes after sliding them in, I begin to smell burning chocolate – never a good sign. I pop open the oven and what do I see?

Apparently, cupcakes expand while baking. You didn’t know this? Me neither! I mean, what kind of dough expands while baking? Besides, um, all of it, I mean.

This meant that the bottom of all of my batter-filled ice cream cones exploded like pirate-ship cannons all over the bottom of my oven. So much so, that the bottom of the oven resembled a cake. A nicely cooking, 13 inch cake, on the bottom of my oven.

That was fun.

So you see, Martha, this relationship of self-abuse has got to end. It’s not you, it’s – oh, wait. It’s totally you, all you, you lying whore.

Cancel my subscription – I’m tired of your issues.

And now, I’m off to make cream cheese frosting. For the cake on the bottom of my oven.

Water, Water, Everywhere

So this morning, I have packed Jack off to work. I am sitting on the couch, minding my own business, trying to read my BBC news in peace, when I hear distinctly Niagara Falls-like sounds from the guest bath downstairs.

And I don’t mean like, that sound of water when you’ve left the faucet in the kitchen a little loose. I mean like scenes from Crane’s “The Open Boat.” I mean like, “Holy shit, what in the hell is that?” Like where you have a brief thought of, “I don’t want to go in there…maybe I could just abandon the house.”

But I did. I did go in there, and apparently, the guest bathroom toilet has inherited some sort of Water Happy Poltergeist, because the toilet tank had flooded the entire bathroom and half of the back door foyer in the four seconds it took for me to get off the couch.

Now, remember, we also have two small, yappy (god love them) dogs who respond with Rambo-like vigor to loud noises. So they proceeded to first mount an attack, and then, when the little signal reached their brains that “WE ARE WET, REPEAT, WE ARE WET!”, then their vigor dissolved into “ABORT MISSION! ABORT MISSION! RUN AROUND THE HOUSE SHAKING!”

So when I finally grabbed them and chucked them outside, the water levels had reached into the kitchen.

Now, I know what many of you toilet-savvy people are thinking here. But wait. I’ll get to that.

Obviously, I am a little bit harried at this moment, because is it difficult to think with the house filling up like a fish bowl. So I grab a stack of dirty towels from the laundry, throw them on the floor, and stand on them while I haul the top off the toilet tank.

I’m about to get all technical on your ass, so maybe the not-so-technical people want to go have a cup of coffee at this point.

The PVC-pipe looking thingy which is attached to the pump/float thingy by a rubber hose thingymabob will not stop shooting water out. I check the value-bopper. The value-bobber is closed. I check the pump-thingy. The pump-thingy is all the way up. And still, the water will not stop draining into the little PVC-pipe ma-bopper at massive speed.

This is when I make my first sixth mistake, which is to jiggle the little rubber hose thingy. Because when in doubt, jiggle, right?

Wrong, my friends. Said rubber hose thingy shoots off, and then water starts spewing with abandon around the bathroom in an Ol’ Faithful type fashion. At which point, I suddenly become landmark conscious and start chanting, “NO, NO, BRING BACK NIAGARA FALLS!”

I manage to wedge the rubber hose thingy back on and mark “Jiggling” off my list as a Bad Idea. No more jiggling.

I grab a large antique martini shaker from the kitchen (Hi, Dead Great-Grandmother Sophie! Thanks for the WWI era martini shaker! We put it to good use!), and start bailing the tank, so that at least the water will stop cascading around the bathroom for five seconds.

Let me reiterate – WWI era martini shaker. This is not a small, 8 oz job like you see in the bars today. No, no – this an industrial, home-style martini shaker from back when people started drinking at 5:00 in the afternoon. It’s the size of a 7/11 Big Gulp. And it can not even compete with the water.

“We’re gonna need a bigger boat!” I joke to the dogs, who are now standing outside, pawing at the back door, unsure of whether they should save Mom or flee the vicinity. They do not find this funny.

Finally, I flush the toilet, which at least gives me temporary reprieve while the tank takes about eight seconds to fill back up. I speed dial my father on his cell phone.

Now, my father and I have a slightly sordid little relationship, mainly due to the fact that I am His Daughter, as opposed to my mother who I am only kind of vaguely related to, at least in the Genetics Lottery of Passing On Stubbornness and Mental Illness. But my father is an engineer in the oilfield, and has done really amazing things in my life, like put up whole buildings with a total of four men while I watched as a kid.

So I speed dial like a mother fucker as the tank rapidly refills.

” ‘yello, this is Mike.”

“DAD, DAD – OKAY – THE TOILET – “

“Hey, sugarplum, what are you doing?”

“THE TOILET. THE WATER. THE WATER WON’T STOP COMING.”

“Lily Beth? Where are you? Are you at home?”

“YES. DADDY. THE GUEST BATHROOM TOILET – I TOOK THE LID OFF THE TANK AND I JIGGLED THE HOSE AND THAT WAS BAD, BAD, BAD IDEA. AND STILL THE WATER WON’T STOP COMING.”

“Well, honey, it’s probably the float. Have you got a float in there?”

“WHAT? IS THAT THE BLACK ROUND THING?”

“Um…it might be. I don’t – how old is your toilet, sweetheart? There’s a pump, right?”

“IS IT THE BLACK ROUND THING OR NOT?! JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO TO MAKE THE WATER STOP COMING!”

“Oh – babydoll, just turn the value off. You know this. The value to the left of the toilet? By the wall? Turn it to the right until the water stops.”

I stop.

I stare at the value – yep, there it is, a little oval-shaped piece of metal. Mocking me.

“Oh,” I say. I bend over and turn it to the right, and of course, the water stops immediately. “Huh. Thanks, Daddy.”

I stare at myself in the mirror, which is soaked. The bathroom walls reflected in the mirror are soaked. My feet are standing on approximately 18 inches of bathtowel, which is all now soaked.

I smack my forehead. “Dumbass. The shut off valve. Jesus on a pogo stick.”

So much for that Rosie the Riveter Home Repair Feminism. So much for feeling proud of myself that I can use a drill. So much for being able to take a door off its hinges, and fix the garbage disposal, and all that other stuff I can do.

I have just been christened into home owner-ship. With toilet water.

Fall 2008 Colors

I’ve been swamped with work – such is the life of an events coordinator in the summer months – and so I’ve paired down my reading and writing down to the essentials: reading Harper’s and writing invoices. Needless to, I’ve been increasingly out of the fashion loop since June.

But in a rare moment of sloth, I logged onto Ann Taylor today and I’m greeted with this:

Holy god, man, I’d forgotten the color report for Fall. What a pleasant surprise, especially after being stuck with that bizarre salmon color this spring. (They say “energizing,” I say “under-cooked fish.”)

The fashion industry has apparently decided on a nature-theme for Fall 2008: brighter than jewel colors, but still not garish. (Mediterranean Blue to Cobalt! Sage Green! Thistle Purple to Berry to Merlot!)

Bravo, Ann Taylor. I feel you have sufficiently whipped Banana Republic’s Beige-and-Grey wearing ass this season.

Truly Fine Series: Queen Rania

There is something arresting about a woman so graceful speaking with such candidness on YouTube (to say nothing of press conferences, college lectures, etc). Queen Rania of Jordan is truly something.

Lest you be confused by the inheritance system at work here (I know I was going, “But – where’s Queen Noor?”), here’s the skinny:

Lisa Najeeb Halaby meets King Hussein in the mid-1970s, because she is an architect for the Amman Continental Airport. They marry in 1978; Lisa changes her name to Noor, the Arabic word for light. She becomes his fourth wife. (No, he did not have several wives at one time – he was married and divorced just like any American man.)

Queen Noor becomes the step-mother to King Hussein’s seven existing children, and they also have four of their own.

Flash forward a couple of decades. King Hussein dies in 1999. Before his death, King Hussein decides the crown will be passed to his eldest son, Abdullah, who is not Queen Noor’s son, but the son of Hussein’s second wife, HRH Princess Muna al-Hussein. Allegedly, there’s a little dust up about this – Queen Noor wanted her own son, of course, to be named to the throne – but she denies it in her autobiography.

Abdullah, now King Abdullah, is already married to Rania – they met in at a dinner party in 1993, and have already been married for five years by the time King Hussein dies and passes the crown (unexpectedly) onto Abdullah. Suddenly, Rania is automatically the reigning Queen.

And ya’ll, she is a bad-ass. She is neither a gunslinger, like American politicians are sometimes referred to, nor a knife-fighter like Hillary Clinton – she is grace personified. She is simply and most deservedly The Queen. She does not sit back and live the Queenly life; she is never idle.

She advocates micro-funds for women to start their own businesses and become financially solvent. She is a Board Member at FINCA. She is on the Board of Directors at the International Criminal Court’s Trust Fund for Victims. And on, and on.

“In my mind,” she says, “Poverty is a she.”

Most notably, however, she’s launched a YouTube campaign to try and bridge the gap between cultures and foster discussion about our commonalities. (Example: Difference between a nun who wears a habit and a Muslim woman who wears a head-scarf? Not much.) She invites people to ask her direct questions relating to women, the Middle East, politics, religion, etc, and then not only does she answer them, but she also invites other YouTube users of all nationalities to pitch in and talk about their own struggles and cultures.

She also enlists the help of Maz Jobrani, Dean Obeidallah, and several others (remember the Axis of Evil Comedy Tour from Comedy Central?)

“I am moved by the image of a reverse domino effect in women’s empowerment,” she says. “Instead of falling because of being pushed down, every woman lifts another up and passes the gift of strength on.”

And, of course, on top of this, she’s gorgeous, dresses beautifully, and is always perfectly poised. Diana Vreeland and Jackie Kennedy would be proud.

To find out more about Queen Rania, you can visit:

• Queen Rania’s Official (and Royal) Website
• BBC News: Queen Rania Takes on Stereotypes
• CNN: What Queen Rania Wants for the World
• Time: Ten Questions for Queen Rania

Truly Fine Series

I’m a huge reader of biographies. I’m constantly picking up books on women I know nothing about – how did I get through an entire transcendentalist literature degree and not know about Elizabeth Peabody? Well, never mind; I’m reading her biography.

And often, biographies (and fiction) have little loopholes or bridges to other important people. A Dominic Dunne paperback leads to Ann Woodward; Ann leads to Slim Keith; Slim Keith leads to the Duchess of Windsor; the Duchess leads to Diana Vreeland; and on, and on.

And then I’ll become truly interested in one woman who was a sideline player in another biography, and I’ll begin amassing information on her. And off we go.

Often times, there’s not a lot of mainstream information on these women. I’ll go by for years, collecting scraps and books about Diana Vreeland for example, and then WHAM, one day New York Magazine does a several-page spread about her life. And I’m sitting there on the couch, going, “I’ll be go-to-hell – it’s Diana Vreeland,” and Jack will say, “Who?” and I’ll say, “She was…” and then launch off into a long explanation of why Diana Vreeland might be important.

So I’ve decided to collect the women I’m fascinated with here, to share with you. I’m going to call it the Truly Fine Series, after the way my mother always used fine not to mean simply passable, but truly wonderful and lovely.

And I’m not going to start with old American high-society (there’ll be plenty of that later), but with the Queen of Jordan. And here you are.

Faking Good Breeding Begins with Good Linens

The bed has become a place of luxury to me! I would not exchange it for all the thrones in the world!

- Napoleon Bonaparte

Bed is the poor man’s opera.

- Italian proverb

“Wow. I just want to tell you – I was wrong about the towels. These towels you registered for are fucking great. It’s made me think that maybe I ought to quit picking up towels out of the dumpster and the middle of the street.”

- Jack, my husband, after ten years of bachelorhood

If there is one thing that gets me more excited than French bread, it’s linens.

Here’s the thing about linens and entertaining: they’ll make or break both a planned and unexpected entertaining experience. I can’t count the number of times we’ve just had people from out of town drop by, and after long talks and lots of wine, it would be silly (not to mention dangerous) for them to get in a car and find a hotel.

In addition, we do a lot of planned entertaining as well; we house my brother-in-law and his wife at holidays, we provide lodging for my out-of-town girlfriends from college when they come to visit, we sleep my mother in the guest room when she travels without my father. And on more than one occasion, we’ve provided solace for friends who were having everything from one-night spats with their significant others to girlfriends of mine fleeing abusive relationships.

Now, this is because we have a large house that, if pressed, can sleep five people in addition to Jack and I. We are the obvious couple that people think of when they need a place to stay, and we are lucky enough to have a house that can accommodate large groups of people. But I ran into the same problem when I had a small two-bedroom apartment as well; when people (from Mama to old friends) drop by unexpectedly – and they will - I said a silent prayer each time that I’d washed towels and cleaned the bathroom toilet.

Bed linens are what I looked forward to most about our wedding registry. But once I really began running a household – we had our queen bed to consider, as well as the guest bedroom, and the bed in the study – things became a little more difficult than just picking a nice bedspread.

There were a plethora of options with complicated vocabulary – standard, boudoir, european – and that was just the pillow cases. I knew enough about thread counts to know that the higher the thread count, the better, but that was about it. What were all these fabrics? Was there a difference in “cotton” and “sateen?” Did I need both a coverlet and a duvet? What the hell was a coverlet, anyway?

And so I give you the answers to the questions I wish I’d asked before I got married:

To begin, let’s start with the basics:

• A fitted sheet is the one with elastic that goes on the mattress
• A flat sheet is the one without elastic that gets laid on top
• A “standard” sheet set should include both a fitted and flat sheet, as well as two “standard” sized pillow cases

Now, onto more complicated things. If you already know how to size your sheets and bed, skip on past this next section.

Sizing Up Your Bed

How do I know what size sheets to buy? What do all these words like “Eastern” and “California” mean?

Sheet sizes depend on the size of your bed. Generally, beds come in five sizes:

Twin/Single Bed: The size you likely slept on in your college dorm room. It’s the smallest of adult-beds and it sleeps one, average sized person comfortably. An “extra long” twin is five inches longer, and requires sheets that are also five inches or so longer.

• Twin bed width: 35 inches (about three feet)
• Twin bed length: 79 inches (a little over six-and-a-half feet)
• Sheets:
  • Fitted Sheet: 39″ x 75″
  • Flat Sheet: 66″ x 96″
  • Pillow Case: 20″ x 26″

Double/Full Bed: A double bed and a full bed are the same thing, which was confusing when I moved into my first apartment. They can sleep two average-sized people comfortably, but if you have pets that sleep with you or if you’re taller or wider than “average” or if you just like your own space, damn it, you’ll want to look at a larger bed.

• Double bed width: 54 inches (four-and-a-half feet)
• Double bed length: 75 inches (a little over six-and-a-half feet)
• Sheets:
  • Fitted Sheet: 54″ x 75″
  • Flat Sheet: 81″ x 96″
  • Pillow Case: 20″ x 26″

Queen Bed: This is what Jack and I sleep on, because we have two puppies that sleep with us. It’s a good mid-sized marital (or living-in-sin) bed, especially if you have pets or kids that like to snuggle. Note: a “California Queen” usually refers to the wood-framed waterbed, which is largely going out of style. If you’re looking at willingly paying money for a waterbed, I wash my hands of you.

• Queen bed width: 60 inches (five feet exactly)
• Queen bed length: 80 inches (a little over six-and-a-half feet)
• Sheets:
  • Fitted Sheet: 60″ x 80″
  • Flat Sheet: 90″ x 102″
  • Pillow Case: 20″ x 30″

King Bed (Standard): A King bed is what my parents have always used, because my father is 6′7″ and a standard (or “Eastern”) King Bed is the widest bed available. It’s certainly a luxurious amount of space, but good luck fitting it into a small bedroom.

• King bed width: 76 – 80 inches (a little over six-and-a-half feet)
• King bed length: 80 inches (a little over six-and-a-half feet)
• Sheets:
  • Fitted Sheet: 76-80″ x 85″
  • Flat Sheet: 108″ x 102″
  • Pillow Case: from 20″ x 36″ to 20″ x40″, depending

California King: A California King, also known as a “Western” King, is not as wide as a regular king bed but is longer, which also helps with the lengthy-husband issue. If you want a large bed, this may fit better in the structure of your bedroom, so be sure to look at both this and a Standard/Eastern King.

• King bed width: 72 inches (exactly six feet)
• King bed length: 84 inches (exactly seven feet)
• Sheets:
  • Fitted Sheet: 72″ x 84″
  • Flat Sheet: 102″ x 110″
  • Pillow Case: from 20″ x 36″ to 20″ x40″, depending

A note on Mattress Depth: Mattress depths vary widely by manufacturer. You’ll want to measure the depth of your mattress before purchasing a set of sheets. Standard and older mattresses are usually 9″-12″, while newer pillow-top mattresses are 14-16″ deep and up. A deeper mattress will require additional depth in your fitted sheet, and a larger flat sheet. (You’ll want to be able to tuck 8″ inches or so under the end of the bed.

Fabric & Thread Count

When Jack and I first started living together, I insisted on having more than one set of sheets so I wouldn’t have to do laundry every week. He went to the grocery store, and bought 150 thread-count sheets.

I stared at the package.

“I didn’t know they even made 150 thread count sheets anymore,” I said.

“Oh?” he replied. “Does that matter? They were only $8.”

And not only were they like sleeping on loose-leaf notebook paper, but we wore holes through them within two months.

The lesson here is that 250 thread-count is the minimum number you want to look for when buying sheets.

What is thread-count, anyway? Does it matter?

“Thread count” is the number of horizontal and vertical threads in one square inch of fabric. The price of sheets goes up with the thread count.

Yes, it matters, but no, don’t be obsessive about it. Often, manufacturers will twist two threads together in such a way that it gives a higher thread count, but doesn’t actually make the sheets much softer or make them last much longer. Between 250-350 is fine. Any thread-count above 380 and you’ll probably want to ask some questions about just how the sheets are made.

Linen, flannel, and jersey sheets have lower thread counts because of the type of fabric, but this does not automatically make them bad sheets – it all depends on what you’re looking for. If you live in Minnesota, where the temperature can be as low as -40 degrees in the winter, fuck the trendy “thread count” issue and buy the flannel sheets.

So what about the fabric, anyway?

My number-one recommendation, personally, is 100% cotton sheets. Cotton breathes, and so it won’t feel sticky against your skin. It’s cool in the summer and holds heat in the winter. Percale, flannel, jersey, and sateen are all mostly made with cotton, although the weaves and finish are different, and they may also use other fabrics (like rayon in sateen) to weave in as well in order to give the fabric a softer or more lustrous finish.

Most stores will offer displays to let you touch these different types of fabric. If there’s no way you can feel the fabric of the sheets you’re buying, then scrape that store entirely – the most important thing about bedsheets is whether or not they are comfortable to you. After all, you spend eight hours a day on them.

What about satin sheets? Aren’t those extra-sexy?

Here’s the thing about “satin” sheets: most “satin sheet” sets found in department stores are made of knit acetate, which makes the surface shiny but the feel rough. “Acetate” is not the problem here; “knit” is. It does not look sexy on your bed, and you will not want to sleep on it. A knit satin bedspread is alright, because it won’t be what’s directly against your skin all night, but I always have trouble getting a satin comforter (knit or not) to stay on the bed at all. One move and the thing slips off.

Instead, you want a “woven” satin fabric. “Woven” is key. If it is not “woven,” then run from it – run far and fast. Here’s the long-and-short of satin fabrics:

• Silk is a natural fiber, and usually very expensive. The thread is very fine, and it gives off a more subtle shine than ultra-shiny man-made fabrics. It can’t be over-exposed to sunlight, and it must be dry-cleaned. It also tears easily.
• Acetate is made from wood fibers and may be your best bet if you have skin allergies. It’s allegedly the “closest” to silk, and must be dry-cleaned, no matter what the label says.
• Nylon is petroleum based, so if you’re ecologically conscious, you may want to avoid buying sheets that require oil to process. However, it is a very thick fabric, strong fabric and can be machine-washed. It does break down easily in sunlight and can pill after washing. Some less reputable companies bill their sheets as nylon when they are really acetate, which is problematic when you try to wash them at home.
• Polyester is also petroleum based, but is one of the strongest and most machine-washable. Woven polyester is one of the easiest “satin” fabrics to care for.

The Pillow Dilemma

“You know how many minutes a day I spend getting throw pillows on and off the bed? How many? Four minutes in the morning, four minutes at night. That’s eight minutes of my life. That’s nearly two days of my life a year I spent putting pillows on and off a stupid bed!”

- Ben Stiller in Along Came Polly

Mr. Stiller is correct. He can also bite me, because the right sets of pillows are precisely what makes a bed look made-up and inviting.

Here’s a Common Fancy Pillow Arrangement diagram, with some vocabulary explanation after it:

Pillow Vocabulary:

• Standard Pillowcase: 20 inches x 26 inches. A standard pillow case is what you probably think of when you think of a pillow. It’s rectangular, and fits twin and double beds just fine.
• Queen Pillowcase: 20 inches x 30 inches. A Queen pillow is the same height, but four inches longer, to better fill out your bed. Most Queen pillows fit inside a standard pillowcase. (That’s what that extra four inches of fabric on one of the sides of the pillowcase is for.)
• King Pillowcase: 20 inches x 26 inches. “Standard” pillows will look tiny on a King-sized bed; you’ll need King sized pillows and pillow cases.
• European Square: 26 inches x 26 inches. Those large square pillows that go at the very back of a pillow arrangement. They go on the bed first; think of them as the basic canvas you’ll build upon. They’re especially good for leaning against if you sit up and read in bed. A European Square pillowcase will be like a
  standard pillowcase, but european-sized and square.
• European Sham: A sham is also usually 26 inches by 26 inches, but the border is often a different color or decorative, and will sit out from the pillow, giving it a fuller, more “hotel-like” look.
• Boudoir Pillow: A boudoir pillow is a small decorate pillow that is rectangular, usually 12 inches x 16 inches. It is also called a “breakfast pillow.” I have no idea what it’s actual, practical purpose is other than to give decoration and depth to a pillow arrangement and for chunking at the dogs when they start to gnaw on something in the bedroom.
• Square Throw Pillow: 18 inches by 18 inches. Like a boudoir pillow, but square. It’s listed as “decorative pillow” in the diagram above. Sometimes they’ll be plain, sometimes they’ll have lace. Jack uses ours for extra lower-back support.
• Neck roll: 6 inches x 13 inches, and round/cylindrical. The smallest and last pillow to go on the bed. Good for neck support or lower-back support, but mostly decorative.

Coverlets, Quilts, and Duvets: Basic Bedding Vocabulary

A coverlet and a quilt are often interchangeable, although some coverlets are more like throws – they are meant to be folded at the foot of the bed, and unfold to cover about half your bed, to add extra insulation in the winter. Be sure to check the sizing before you buy.

Coverlets and quilts lay flat – they’re good for a clean look with straight lines. Duvets, however, are a different thing altogether.

A duvet has two layers of fabric with insulation in-between. It usually comes with a washable cover. This washable cover is a pain in the ass to take off, get back on, and generally keep straight. And yet, I keep buying duvets for some reason. Duvets are nice if you like a fluffy look to your bed.

How to Make Hospital Corners

Hospital corners can be tricky to explain without photographs. The easiest, most no-bullshit video I’ve found is here. If you want to attempt it by worded instructions, Martha Stewart has this to say:

1. Stand at the middle of one side and pull up edge of sheet a little more than a foot from the corner. Lift up edge to make diagonal fold, and lay fold back into mattress.
2. Tuck hanging edge under mattress with other hand. Drop folded portion and pull smooth.
3. Tuck hanging portion of sheet, or let it hang down.
4. Leave the sides of the bed untucked for easier sleeping — this also makes it easier to get in and out of bed.

How to Fold a Fitted Sheet

Martha Stewart has a better article (with pictures) on folding fitted sheets here.

Karen at ExpertVillage also does a good 3-step video for folding fitted sheets to fit perfectly on whatever sized shelf you have: Step One, Step Two, and Step Three.

What bedding do you use, Lily Beth?

Martha Stewart has a pretty good bedding collection at Macy’s. She is also the Queen of Decorative Pillows. Her Trousseau Collection is what’s on our master bed currently.

We also own a set of Nautica sheets that I love. Bed Bath and Beyond carries a good selection of Nautica bedding; they’re a safe bet if you like simple stripes or plaid.

If you’re going for a hotel-look and don’t mind the price, Restoration Hardware has a very nice selection of hotel-like linens. I can’t vouch for them personally, as we’ve never owned them, but I do embarrass Jack constantly by rolling around on them whenever we are in the RH store. One day – one day, they will be mine.

Our guest bedroom is done in Pottery Barn’s Matine Toile bedding, because I love toile. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to carry our spring-green color anymore, but they still have cranberry, espresso, ink blue, and powder blue.

In college, I had an expensive set of Nicole Miller bedding – all ivory and powder pink satin, with little pink decorative pillows that had feathers. I loved it, but as soon as anyone sat on the think, the bedspread slipped off and the pillows slipped flat. I would never do it again.

But what about towels?

Bath linens are a whole other issue, but one that I’m equally enthusiastic about. That article is coming next week, so be sure to check back. (If you want, you can use the information on your right to add my RSS feed to your Google or other homepage.) Remember – Lily Beth spends hours writing articles on pillow arrangement so that you don’t have to spend hours researching it.

Table Manners 101: A Primer

Recently, I attended a rehearsal dinner because (a) my husband was a groomsmen to the wedding, and (b) I was the wedding coordinator. The couple getting married happened to be good friends of ours, and so we knew most of the bridal and groom’s party.

One of the groomsmen was a particularly good-looking young man that we’ve known for years. In our past experience with him, he’s been generally arrogant, misogynistic, and moody.

And he has the most exquisite table manners. Precisely and shockingly exquisite.

It was then that it occurred to me, as I was now completely re-evaluating a man who, up to that point, I had taken to be a complete charlatan, how important table manners can actually be in one’s perception of people.

On the flip-side, I was recently at another wedding rehearsal dinner (tis the season, ya’ll) where not one of the Bridesmaids knew how to eat in a formal setting. They rested their butter-laden knife on the linen table cloth, they talked on their cell phones, grabbed passing waiters by the wrists to put in orders for more martinis. I was so embarrassed for the Bride and Groom.

So I present to you, Table Manners 101: A Primer.

Is it ever okay to touch a waiter?

Not unless he/she assaults you with a wine bottle. Don’t. Touch. The. Staff. This rule goes first, before anything else, because that’s what I see people doing most often. Even a polite touch of two fingers to the wrist is unacceptable, to say nothing to reaching out and grabbing an elbow as they pass. These people are providing a service for you. They are in the service industry. For that, you should treat them with the utmost respect.

I was once dining in a very formal restaurant with my boyfriend at the time. Because the waiter had not removed the salad fork after my boyfriend had turned down salad, my boyfriend absently picked it up and started eating the entree with it. The waiter, who was French, immediately descended upon our table, grabbed my boyfriend’s wrist, and plucked the fork out of his hand, admonishing us the entire time, in French. “Now,” he said, pocketing the salad fork and picking up my boyfriend’s entree fork and placing it in his hand instead, “C’est meilleur, non?“

My boyfriend – a 6′7″ young man built like a line-backer – simply stared in awe at the audacity of our waiter.

I was quicker on the jump.

“Non,” I said, “Ce n’est pas meilleur. Please send the manager over. Le directeur. Oui. Merci.“

Across the board, the rule is: no touching.

If I’m dining out, how much do I tip?

This question comes second, because it’s the second-biggest mistake I see most often. We’ll get into the hard-core stuff in a minute.

Here’s the thing about tipping in the service industry in America: almost everyone in the service industry does not make minimum wage. They make less than minimum wage. This is one of the few job industries in which this is legal, under the guise that they get tipped. If they work in an upscale establishment, they probably make more than minimum wage. If they don’t, then they probably make around or less than minimum wage, depending on their shift.

Mick Vann at the Austin Chronicle writes:

Restaurants pay waiters as little as $2.13 per hour in Texas. Minimum wage in the state is [$6.55] per hour, and the restaurant only has to make sure that between their hourly wage and their tips, they make at least the minimum wage. Of course, most do much, much better than minimum wage, or they wouldn’t still be waiting tables. Forget benefits like paid medical and vacations. Fifteen-minute breaks for every four hours worked? Not a chance. And contrary to what most anti-tippers believe, waiters do report their tips as income to the IRS, on Form 4070. To avoid an audit or an automatic allocation of tips, they report as tip income at least 10% or more of their total sales, which might or might not be what they actually make…

Waiters almost always have to tip out a portion of their total tips each shift to support staff: bus people, bartenders, dishwashers, etc. By law, that portion is supposed to be determined solely and independently by the staff, with no influence from management. Unscrupulous management often tries to find a way to dip into that total to supplement pay for other employees.

I recommend tipping 15%-20%. Less than 15% is inexcusable. If you’re making the choice to dine out, then you have to factor in the cost of tipping.

So remember – you are not tipping as a reward for good service. You are tipping to contribute to their basic cost of living. Cheap tippers or “I don’t tip” people are bastards, and there are no two ways about it.

How do I know what fork to use? / How do I set a table myself?

Emily Post rocks my world on table setting reference. As a child, anytime I would set a formal table in my house, I would go ask my father where the utensils went. And he would inevitably say, “Hell, baby, I don’t know – go get The Book.”

The Book was Emily Post’s Etiquette, and no one describes table settings better than she.

Appropriate diagrams for setting your table are posted here:

• Basic Place Setting
• Informal Place Setting
• Formal Place Setting

Do waiters really serve on a certain side? Which side, and should I serve like that when I’m entertaining in my home?

The general rule is “serve from the left, collect from the right.” In upscale restaurants, this is precisely what happens – if a server is bringing you anything, they’ll put it on the table to your left or come from the left-hand-side to put it directly in front of you. If the server is clearing or removing anything, they’ll do so from your right-hand-side. The exception to this is if the tables or chairs are arranged in such a way that it becomes difficult or dangerous to do so.

Will the servers do this at TGIFriday’s? No, do not expect “HI MY NAME IS Vanessa” to serve from the left and clear from the right at TGIFriday’s. And no, you don’t have to do it in your own home – typically, if you’re having a small group of people (4-6 total), everyone serves themselves.
What do I do if I don’t want any wine, or anymore wine?

If wine is offered, you can either say “No, thank you,” or, if you’re in the middle of a conversation, politely pass your hand over the wine glass when the waiter comes around to you. This does not mean to rest your palm on top of it – you don’t actually touch the glass. And be discreet with this gesture – not flashy.

Um, why does the waiter show me the bottle of wine and what the hell am I supposed to do?

So sometimes wine presentation can be showy. Some restaurants make a big production of it – truly, you expect the waiter to light sparklers and do a little tap-dance while he pours – and other times, a waiter will quietly show the bottle to the host, wait for his or her approval, and then pour.

The main reason a waiter shows a bottle of wine to you is so that you can verify that it is, in fact, the bottle you wanted. I didn’t understand this until, years ago, I was on a date with a man more educated than me on the subject of wine. He ordered a very specific Malbec, and then when the waiter brought it, it was incorrect – not the wrong year, or even the wrong label, but actually a completely different wine altogether. My date smiled politely, and quietly said “I’m sorry, I actually asked for the Mendoza Malbec.” The waiter immediately recognized that he’d actually brought us another table’s bottle of wine – a Merlot – and quickly hurried off to fetch us the one we ordered. Crisis averted for us, the waiter, and the other table.

Why does the waiter only pour a little bit of wine into the glass first?

This is for you to taste, to make sure that (a) it’s what you ordered and (b) it’s in good condition. Wine does sometimes go over, and the waiter wants to give you the chance up-front to let him know if it’s gone bad instead of trying to flag him down again after the fact. Do you have to swirl it around and hold it up to the light and all that jazz? Only if you truly know what you’re doing. Wine presentation is sort of like clapping at the Opera – if you don’t know how to do it, then don’t do it at all.

I simply taste it, or if I’m in the middle of conversation, say “I’m sure it’s fine, thank you,” which gives him the signal to pour for everyone who’s requested wine.

Am I supposed to sniff the wine cork?

Look, there are a handful of people in the world who do not look like a total moron while sniffing a wine cork. Odds are, you are not one of these lucky people. The waiter presents the cork to you to signify that (a) it’s in tact and he didn’t tear it all-to-hell trying to remove it, and (b) to let you smell it to see if the wine has gone over without actually putting the glass up to your nose or putting any wine in your mouth. Spoiled bottles of wine are rare, and so, no, as a general rule, please don’t sniff the cork.

As a sidenote, I like to pocket my corks and keep them as souvenirs of a particularly fun or memorable night. I have a little china bowl filled to the brim with the important ones.

Okay, enough with the wine stuff – down to brass tacks. What’s all the silverware for? How do I know when to use what?

Check out Emily Post’s diagrams, linked above, for a detailed description.

The quick-and-dirty rules are as follows:

1. Forks on the left, knives and spoons on the right. If you have trouble with this, remember – “FORK and LEFT” have both have four letters; KNIFE and RIGHT have five.
2. If you’re lost, start on the outside and work your way in. For example, if the salad is being served first (customary in America), then the salad fork will be on the far left, furtherest away from your dinner plate. If the salad is being served after the entree (as is customary in Italy), then the salad fork will be between your entree fork and your dessert fork.
3. The smaller fork is for salad. If you’re not having salad, the waiter should remove it.
4. The smallest and weirdest looking fork with funky tines (ditto for the funky looking knife) is likely a fish fork.
5. The small, really funky looking fork with only two tines (looks like devil’s horns) is an oyster fork, and it’ll be the only fork to ever go on the right side of your plate.
6. The largest fork is for your entree.
7. The small, dull knife is the butter knife, and it’ll be placed across your bread plate.

Okay – what about all that glassware? Which glass do I use for what?

1. The water goblet is usually the largest, most sturdy glass, and it’s placed the furthest inward, directly above the knives.
2. Next is the red wine glass, which will be the larger of the two wine glasses, and then the white wine glass, which will be smaller.
3. If a very small glass exists, it’s usually for sherry, port, or cordials, which is traditionally drunk after dinner or with dessert.

Is there a right way to eat bread?

Well, there’s a polite way. The polite way to eat bread is not to butter the entire thing at one time and then take bites out of it, but rather to tear it apart, one small piece at a time, and butter each piece. This isn’t as snobby as it sounds – this ensures that you will take small bites, which is not only better for your digestion, but also ensures that you won’t get excited and cram too much in your mouth at one time, thereby looking like an utter fool. (What? I’m talking from experience. I’m Italian; I get easily excited about bread.)

This also ensures that you won’t get overly excited about the butter and take more than your fair share while buttering your entire roll at one time. (What? I get overly excited about butter, too.)

The exception to this rule is if the bread is particularly crumbly, like a biscuit or cornbread. Then, it’s every man for himself. (Mmmm. Cornbread.)

As a sidenote, use your bread plate. No, for christ’s sake – USE. YOUR. BREAD. PLATE. The bread plate is there not only to give you something to sit your butter-knife on, but also to catch crumbs so that you don’t look like a toddler with the dead remains of smooshed, exploded cracker packets surrounding you.

What do I do with my napkin?

1. Place your napkin in your lap immediately upon sitting down. The very instant. Otherwise, you may forget, and then you’ll be me – I remember half-way through the meal, and realize that my napkin is still on the table, signifying to everyone else that I have no idea how to eat. Put it in your lap first thing.
2. If you get up from the table – to use the facilities, to take a phone call - leave the napkin on the chair. No, I mean it, ya’ll – leave it on the chair. No one wants to see your half-used, greasy napkin. And even if the napkin is pristine, a napkin on the table is often a sign to the waiter that the person has left for good and not coming back. Don’t confuse them.
3. When you are done – entirely done, all courses finished, and asking for the check - you can loosely fold your napkin and place it on the table. Do not put a cloth napkin over your plate – someone is going to have to fish that napkin out of your sauce and crumbs that way. Don’t do it. Folding a napkin (loosely) and placing it on the table means the server can pick up all the used napkins in one swoop, without a mess. If you fold your napkin neatly and precisely, that implies that you think the host might reuse it without washing it – not good either.

As a sidenote, any time a napkin is folded in a complex manner (like an origami crane, for instance), I feel the urge to grab the little linen crane’s head and snap the napkin open all fancy, like a magician. I fight down this urge. You should too.

Can I place my used silverware on the table?

No. Not even if it’s plastic, and you’re at a BBQ joint. Used silverware should never touch the table or table cloth, because it can stain. And if there’s no tablecloth, still – you don’t want to be placing a utensil that goes in your mouth just anyplace. Rest your entire utensil on the side of your plate. Don’t rest the handle on the table and the other end on the plate – this is begging for it to slide off and clatter loudly, or worse, careen into a wine glass and break the stem. Some of the more trendy restaurants now have plates that slope so much they resemble bowls, making it impossible to balance anything on them. If this is the case, treat it like a pasta bowl – leave your fork and knife inside, if possible, with the handles resting on the edge.

How do I signal to the waiter that I’m finished?

1. If you’re simply pausing for an extended period of time – for example, you need to excuse yourself, or the conversation has just become intense and you’d like to stop eating in order to listen – then place your fork on the left of the plate and your knife on the right, so that the cross like an “X” in the center. This signals that you are not, in fact, ready to have your plate removed.
2. If you are going to be taking a second-helping of something, place the knife and fork parallel to each other on the right of the plate so that there’s room for food.
3. If you’re finished eating entirely, place your knife (blade towards you) and fork parallel, at 4:00. (Meaning if the plate is like the face of a clock, 12:00 being the top and 6:00 being the bottom, the handles of your knife and fork should be resting at 4:00.)

How do I pass things correctly?

First, don’t ever reach across the table with a plate of food, a utensil, or anything else. It’s aggressive, rude, and increases the chance for disaster if your hand decides to have a spasm. If someone across the table asks for something small, like the salt and pepper, then place them on the table beside the person next to you. He/She should pick them up and place them on the other side, beside the person next to them. Items should never be passed hand-to-hand, unless they’re large (like a serving plate of food) and there is absolutely no way you can place them on the table between each person.

What can I eat with my hands?

Burgers and sandwiches are generally okay, as are burritos and other similar foods, unless they’re too big to pick up and fit easily in your mouth. Never under-estimate how much easier it is to eat a large cheeseburger if you cut it in half first.

Corn on the cob can be eaten by hand, but you’ll need to only butter 1-2 rows at a time, eat them, and then butter the next 1-2 rows. This ensures that you won’t end up with butter all over your chin.

Berries can be tricky. The rule is that you’re allowed to each the following three things with your fingers: (1) strawberries with the hulls on, (2) cherries with stems, or (3) grapes in bunches. Otherwise, if it’s something loose, like raspberries or blueberries, eat them with a fork.

The two As: artichokes and asparagus:

We’ll tackle asparagus first, because it’s easier. If there’s no sauce (nothing messy) on your asparagus, you can actually pick up individual stalks and eat them one bite at a time. If there’s sauce of any kind, eat it with a knife and a fork. I tend to wave food around if it’s in my hand for very long, so I generally eat everything with a knife and fork. (As a sidenote, don’t wave stuff around, especially not your knife. That’s all you need is to get overzealous while gesturing and be responsible for your dinner-date needing an eye-patch.)

Artichokes are harder. In fact, the person who serves whole artichokes should probably be smacked around, as they’re one of the most notoriously confusing foods to eat. A nice, illustrated guide on eating an artichoke is here.

The House of Agnelli Divided

The Agnelli Family have long been heralded as the Kennedys of Italy. In fact, Jackie and Gianni were rumored to be quite close after Jackie married Aristotle Onassis. Not only has the Agnelli family endured suicides and drug over-doses, but they’ve also captivated the world of couture for the past fifty years.

Gianni Agnelli was the epitome of Italian fashion, both in his day and after – Esquire recently named him one of the five best dressed men in the history of the world. He was the embodiment of sprezzatura, to say nothing of a shrewd and brilliant businessman who amassed a massive fortune in his life.

Now that Gianni Agnelli has passed on, an estate of somewhere between $3 billion and $5 billion sits with the Fiat company. And that’s the problem – no one is really sure how much it is, and the men who do know aren’t talking. And so a lawsuit has been filed by Magherita, Agnelli’s only daughter, which has divided her not only from her father’s long-time consiglieri, but also from her own family.

After being given the run-around days after her father’s death (such as being told her presence “wasn’t needed” when his last will and testament was read), and then fearing her mother had been strong-armed by her father’s business partners into “donating” her own share of stock to Fiat, Margherita’s request is simple: she just wants a full accounting of her father’s assets upon his death.

Her father’s business advisors (Gianluigi Gabetti, Franzo Grande Stevens, and Siegfried Maron) provided her only with a partial listing – Agnelli’s assets in Italy, only, in spite of the fact that he owned real estate around the world, and had numerous other cash sources in various countries. (Gianni left $6 million in his Swiss checking account alone.) Margherita is now asking for an accurate and full accounting, which one would think would be her right.

The only problem with that is once an accurate estimate of Agnelli’s fortune is known, it becomes more difficult to protect from the government and taxes. And the concern is that, while the majority of the fortune now seems to sit with Fiat, if the full amount is made known, then his heirs (including Margherita) might start requesting what some might consider their due inheritance. Gabetti, Stevens, and Maron’s solution to this problem is not business-minded, but personal: they’ve recommended that the entire Agnelli family shun Margherita until the entire thing goes away.

But it’s not going away, as Vanity Fair detailed in this month’s issue. It’s not going away, because Margherita, like her father, is a warrior.

The Women Who Wanted the Secrets by Mark Seal | Vanity Fair | August 2008