etiquette (n): the customary code of polite behavior in society or among members of a particular profession or group

polite (adj): having or showing behavior that is respectful and considerate of other people

considerate (adj): showing careful thought; careful not to cause inconvenience or hurt to others

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In January, the second season of “Feud” released on FX and Hulu. Since its first ad released, I eagerly awaited the release of “Capote vs. The Swans,” based on Laurence Leamer’s Capote's Women: A True Story of Love, Betrayal, and a Swan Song for an Era. Based on true events (with elements of surrealism), the show follows the rise and fall of famous-turned-infamous author, Truman Capote, the brilliant mind behind In Cold Blood and Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Another book covering his fabulous/tragic life and his equally fabulous/tragic friends, The Swans of Fifth Avenue, a fictionalized novel of Capote and his socialite friends. It remais one of my favorite books of all time (one I’ve read no less than three times).

But beyond his sharp prowess and talent as a writer, Capote was perhaps most famous for the company he kept—namely, the lavishly-lifestyled women he considered his closest confidants. These ladies were Slim Keith, C.Z. Guest, Gloria Vanderbilt, Lee Radziwill, Pamela Churchill, and most intimately (and famously), Babe Paley. These graceful beauties shared myriad enviable qualities that fueled both their fame and fortune: admired, poised, influential, untouchable. Yes, they were richer than God. All of them married among the wealthiest and most powerful men of their day: business executives, politicians, movie directors. And yes, Capote’s aptly-named swans were strikingly beautiful, always presentable to a world that eagerly awaited them. Every lifted finger was immaculately manicured, every hair on their heads tamed fastidiously in place, every Chanel pantsuit flawlessly tailored. Every detail of their perfectly curated lives accounted for, managed, delegated, or whisked away.

But one nuance—one that lay beyond their undeniable beauty, designer clothes, tasteful sense of style, priceless art collections, and private jets fetching them back and forth among their multiple mansions—set them apart. Their comportment—their manner of movement—rendered them otherworldly, exemplary, immortal. These society ladies were the nearest equivalent to American royalty of their time, perhaps the nearest it has ever been (and ever will be). The way they carried themselves, their bearing, they way they laughed, their manner of speaking, the Transatlantic/Mid-Atlantic accent (that old-timey proper speak you hear among actors in old early 20th century movies: not quite British, not quite American). Everything in their manner of being was curated, thoughtful, intentional.

Nevertheless, behind their glistening veneer, the swans were pretentious, cold, entitled, and blissfully (if not bafflingly) unlearned of their own privilege. When one lives in an entirely separate stratosphere of opulence, one’s sense of reality, naturally, becomes warped. But as a result of their upbringing, training, and (borrowing their term) “breeding,” their manners and etiquette were pristine, world-class. Tatler described Babe, the swans’ poised ringleader, as “unfailingly polite,” her “reputation…flawlessness – in appearance, in conduct, in charm; a kind of flawlessness which made her unforgettable to those who knew her, those who knew of her and everyone else grazed by her glittering life.” Capote, widely considered Babe’s most intimate friend, famously remarked, “Babe Paley had only one fault. She was perfect. Otherwise, she was perfect.”

Tatler continues:

Babe could remember everyone’s name and middle name; would host with utmost diligence and enthusiasm, arranging creatively themed dinners, parties, days out and activities; she would never touch a cigarette or a drink without first offering them to others; and could captivate an entire room, as if by magic with her wit and deftness of speech. She made people laugh but never coveted the laughter. Everything she said, she said at the perfect moment. Everything she touched, she held in the perfect way.

Many decades have passed since the swans’ pinnacle of influence as Manhattan’s elite. Even so, the exclusive worlds of the wealthy and privileged are not likely to go away: but at least, they may find themselves squinting in an unfriendly new spotlight that questions their place in a rapidly changing world. Because for many, the rules of etiquette have been anything but friendly or accessible. Their original purpose reminds us this is true, as it began in the court of King Louis XIV. Hoping to keep his court tamed and compliant, he invented a series of rules to wield control over his nobles lest they question or undermine his power.

As many other systems that rather, are not broken, but operate exactly as they were made to, the history of etiquette did perpetuate a cold and classist divide. While slurping down one’s finger bowl or failing to place a napkin in your lap may seem like innocuous mistakes to the majority of us, this coded set of rules are shared among the elite and not the rest for a purpose: to keep the rich and proper sanctified, set apart, pristine, white, blonde, holy. In King Louis’ court, compliant. In 2024, WASP-ily proper. In “The History of Etiquette,” Consumer Behaviour Psychologist Paul Russell explains:

The development of etiquette in 17th century Europe was really due to [a] politicisation of manners…in the 18th century – etiquette was consciously adopted in order to signify one’s status among the cultural elite. In order to identify with this social elite, many members of the bourgeoisie adopted the behaviours and social norms of the upper class.

I am superior to you, and if you cannot comply to my etiquette, then you are beneath me. Doesn’t sound very kind, does it?

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And yet, despite the not-so-polite social codes and mores of high society, I can’t quite dismiss the entire notion of etiquette as a pointless or vain effort. In 2022, Netflix released a series called “Mind Your Manners,” which follows international etiquette teacher Sara Jane Ho as she helps people become their best selves through developing—you guessed it—good manners. (She just published a book last month by the same title.)

Her makeover students range from a party girl struggling with self-acceptance, to a timid live-streamer seeking dating advice, to a new mother feeling lost in parenthood. Her lessons are at times unusual, if not unexpected, and always delivered with kindness, levity, and whimsy. The party girl finds the courage to embrace herself fully by removing all of her heavily-applied makeup, and the new mom beams in the mirror as she learns how to dress herself both comfortably and stylishly, for instance. When I switch off Netflix, I leave the couch and eagerly reach for a banana as a snack—having just learned how to properly slice one with a fork and knife.

Despite the seemingly outdated need for etiquette, the show succeeds at presenting it as accessible, easy, even enjoyable. Her “East-meets-West” approach exceeds beyond stuffy old manners, and into a holistic lifestyle shift to a better you, no matter who you are. She even lauds it as a form of wellness (gasp), as “a way to genuinely promote healthy, individual growth.” Sara’s onscreen guests are not all white and rich, but instead appear from a range of backgrounds and cultures. She herself, a Hong Kong native, moved to Papua New Guinea, Taiwan, and the United Kingdom as a child; founded the first finishing school in China; and continues traveling the world for her work. A piece in The New York Times uplifts Sara’s work as “[offering] practical manners for a new, global world,” with a fabulous title that may shock you. Now an Emmy-nominated host from the series, she continues offering her guidance and tips through podcasts appearances, interviews, and social media.

After finished the first season, I relayed what I’d seen to Jake. “Who do you think etiquette is for?” I glanced sideways at him, arching an eyebrow as he considered his response. He tends to think carefully before he speaks. Rightfully so, he was skeptical of the history of etiquette. His question is, “Who says?” Who gets to deem that which is proper or polite? Who defines etiquette? Traditionally, historically, and problematically, the shot-callers have not exactly had the purest intentions.

And yet, inspired by Sara Jane, I remain unconvinced that it needs to remain that way.

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As I write this, I’m seated outside on the back porch, listening to the trickle of water from the hot tub down into the pool. The clouds are starting to part, so I take off my jean jacket and continue typing. We are in Arizona, visiting my husband’s aunt and uncle, a welcome respite from the Chicago March cold. Behind my chair, they’ve set out a hummingbird feeder with fresh sugar water, which has begun attracting new visitors. That rare and foreign sound—the distinct hum of their flapping wings—sounds off behind me. I think, What would be the courteous thing to do? I decide that it’s to turn around slowly, so as not to startle the delicate creature’s feeding time, quietly enjoy his presence, and say a silent thank you as he darts away.

How do we grapple with this topic of etiquette today? Does the expression “common courtesy” today [still] include knowing a fish fork from an oyster fork? Or could there be more to it?

When pondering these things, I think of a friend of ours who went to undergrad in the South. To me, she is the quintessential picture of perfect manners. She never misses a thank you note after a party—be it to us for inviting her to our engagement party, or to us for attending her wedding. She is thoughtful, considerate, and kind, her company a breath of fresh air. Her way of speaking is gentle, genuine, and friendly. She is a wonderful conversationalist and was a welcome companion to meet up with for the occasional walk around the neighborhood when social plans were few and far between in the early days of the pandemic. Her taste in all things is elegant, and she is a timely and considerate host, guest, and friend.

I think of her because she embodies all of the positive elements of what it means to be courteous and well-mannered (kind, compassionate, patient, gracious) and absolute none of the downsides (sneering, impatient, entitled, holier-than-thou). The oft-quoted remark from Maya Angelou resurfaces: “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” This friend does not wrinkle her nose at those who may not think to send a thank you note, or put their napkin in their lap at the appointed time, or offer to take off their shoes when entering her home (something I’ve taken to doing now that I live in the city). To me, she is an admirable beacon of hope for those of us living in a modern world, struggling to determine what the right—or rather, the kind—thing is to do.

In grappling with today’s place for etiquette, I quite enjoy this 2023 piece b

e Cut: How to text, tip, ghost, host, and generally exist in polite society today. Over one hundred tips is a lot to digest, so I have revisited this piece multiple times. Of the countless things we wish we had instruction manuals for—say, managing unfriendly neighbors, selecting a contraception choice, or grieving a loved one—this is a welcome aid in a vast world fraught with bad advice, contradictions, and grey area. The article is even sectioned out with a table of contents: Friends & Lovers, Strangers & Others, Going Out & Staying In, Tipping, Work, The City, Parenting, and Posting & Texting. Huzzah! The Manners Bible we so badly need!

There are some I deeply appreciate (“You may callously cancel almost any plans up until 2p.m.”), others I needed to hear myself (“Never wake up your significant other on purpose, ever.”) A few I deeply wish others knew [“If you ghost someone, stay gone forever,” and “Straight people can use the word partner only when they’re trying to get something out of it,” or risk seeming “annoyingly vague and also smug.” Upon hearing an early twenties coworker refer to his underage college girlfriend his “partner,” I myself resisted a strong urge to roll my eyes.]

Others surprise me as much as they do delight me: …dear God, if you do bring up astrology and it’s not met with enthusiasm, do change the subject. Preach. And while I do sometimes feel considerable self-conscious when I stand up in the airplane aisle immediately once the seat belt signs turn off, I don’t have to.

A delightful favorite: “Always wink.”

Are “rules” like these arbitrary and painfully tone-deaf? Do they favor a select group as the rules of etiquette once did? Or…are they genuinely practical, perhaps necessary, in today’s highly globalized and digital world?

If you read the piece—which I highly recommend, as it’ll give you something interesting to discuss at drinks tonight—you’ll find it gently but firmly guides folks from privileged, heteronormative circles what to avoid saying to those who are not: namely, folks of color, and those in the LGBTQIA+ community. Not only is it a set of guidelines in a post-George Floyd world, but also that of a post-COVID society.

At the end of the article, the author concedes that these guidelines will, at least, carry us through until the next great societal upheaval (and what an exiting time that will be!) And I must say, I appreciate this. No one likes to feel the burn of shame upon realizing too late that you’ve overstepped the unspoken boundaries among a group. And it’s humbled me enough to remember my own privilege behind my annoyance toward others’ behaviors in public. It is not only breaking a CTA rule for passengers, it is rude (to me) to subject others to your blaring music or video. But I remember than many unhoused folks ride the train, and it’s not likely they have access to a set of AirPods .

I once had an Italian boyfriend who would double-kiss my friends on the cheek when I introduced him. This was received with great delight and flabbergast, raising their eyebrows at me over his shoulder. Until one morning when I was introducing him to two married friends at church. When he leaned in to kiss the wife on the cheek, she jerked backwards with a startled Whoa! Taken aback himself, he quickly realized the reason for her reaction and shrank back in embarrassment, apologizing. The four of us all laughed, aflutter and marveling at such a rare moment of cultural collision in small-town North Carolina. Neither party, of course, was necessarily in the wrong. But it did make me wonder. Had that relationship lasted and the matter extended into which customary greeting would apply next time, would it yield in his favor, or hers?

In a Me Too, racial justice, post-pandemic world, in which so much has shifted and flipped, this is how etiquette gets its groove back: the generally universal notion of thoughtfully acknowledging those around you. This, I hope, will remain as timeless as it is needed. As the old adage goes (or as my parents hackneyed until I grew tired of hearing it): Treat others the way you want to be treated. Because if I’m honest, I still remember most thoughtful gestures, or as Maya Angelou would likely suggest, how they made me feel.

• When I arrived as a houseguest to my friend’s apartment, it’s the basket filled with goodies from Trader Joe’s (including dog treats for Ash) with a handwritten note left on the kitchen counter, which included the wifi password (you know who you are). Unique and beautiful gifts sent from friends visiting various countries.

• Stickers sent from pen pals throughout my schooling years, simply because they thought I’d enjoy them.

• The thank you note a friend left after spending a girls weekend at my parents’ house, which they still bring up today and will absolutely never forget.

• The incredibly thoughtful gift from my aunt and uncle, who bought an oil painting of the same brick archway where Jake and I took photographs on our wedding day, from the art festival held that same weekend.

Grateful for the kindnesses done for me, I’ve offered and repaid where I can. Deep cleaning my friends’ bachelor-ily messy kitchen in exchange for a free place to stay. Sending flowers to a friend after a breakup. RSVP’ing as soon as possible, having been the bride who’s had to chase people down for responses (please don’t make brides do this, no matter how close you are). Bringing dinner to a couple grieving a miscarriage. Calling someone on the phone, when a phone call is warranted (i.e. offering an apology, or an emergency cancellation).

Have I made mistakes and been uncourteous? Of course. I should have been more honest when turning down that second date. “I’m emotionally unavailable” leaves the door open for hope and is unfair to the poor guy (remember that “So you’re telling me there’s a chance?” line from Dumb and Dumber?) A simple “I don’t think we’re compatible” might sting, but ultimately will not ruin his life, and release him to pursue other people. In those moments when I was more self-centered and less self-aware, the gracious and patient response of others allowed me the safe space to learn and grow. Foisting one’s own moral code or principals of politeness upon those who don’t match them is, at best, tone-deaf, unhelpful, and ineffective, and at worst, utterly divisive, and in some cases, tinged with racism, ageism, homophobia, or fill in the blank.

The author of this piece founded Luxury Academy, a school in which he trains clients to interact with high net worth individuals and luxury customers. As capable and qualified as folks may be who work with HNW individuals, their business tailors their lessons around developing “Professional Behaviour and Image,” which their website describes as a “missing element” that gives an extra edge to gain trust from such exclusive clients.

However etiquette shows up for you, the reason I am drawn to shows like “Mind Your Manners” and articles like The Cut’s is because there is freedom in modern day etiquette to make it what you want. For me, I plan to embrace its tenets in my marriage, a realm I’m inclined to forget all about etiquette. Next time, I will think twice before I wake up my sleeping husband.