Orange You Glad

Life, August 16, 1954

Be a fun family...Keep a supply of Nesbitt's on hand.

And all this time you thought that everyone in the family was unhappy because you took them fishing in the middle of the night and made them sit on a rock out in the middle of nowhere and finally finally finally after four hours you caught a teeny fish. And you held it up and made them admire it for what seemed to them like, oh, at least another hour or so. And there was this strange orange thing in the water that looked like a smiling house. What sort of fish is that, anyway? What kind of lake has little orange houses lounging around in it? What are we doing here anyway, Dad? I thought you said we were going somewhere fun.

Well, kids, next time, things will be much, much better. Because Mom will remember to buy Nesbitt's Orange Soda in the "distinctive carton." Yes, Madge. Well, maybe I did tell you to get grape soda. Don't you know that when I say grape, I really mean orange?

Grape soda - why, you can't even see it in the dark. The kids spilled it all over their white shorts and Madge got all cranky about that. And also about having to stand on that rock half bent over trying to smile and pose like some kind of model. We all heard about that all the way home in the car. Like catching that teeny fish wasn't worth it.

Never mind. Next time, the orange magic of Nesbitt's of California (o great land of oranges and Hollywood glamor!) will make the next midnight trip to Line Drawing Lake a perfect Happy Family outing. Take a look at how thrilled everyone is in the picture on the left. And they'll stay that way - until someone notices what happens when you leave a cardboard carton sitting in the water.

Ice Cream Forks and Other Dilemmas

"Spoon or fork?" The Ice Cream Think Tank (ad detail, 1923)

It's hard to remember all the rules when you are out on a dinner date:

Very often you see a seemingly cultured gentleman in a hotel dining-room or restaurant playing with the silver or absent-mindedly clinking glasses together.

Lillian Eichler must have been spying on my college dining hall. There was plenty of glass-clinking and impromptu jam sessions with the silverware (minus, of course, the actual jam). We also had a game where you put really tough Jell-O cubes into a glass of 7 Up. The Jell-O cubes were usually about a week old because no one wanted to eat them and they would keep reappearing in the cafeteria line: the Houdinis of dessert. When you put the Jell-O cubes in the 7 Up, they would bounce around because of the carbonation (never escaping though - so not really like Houdini at all). Now, this sort of horrid stuff, of course, will not play well when one is dining out at the Ritz - or in a dining hall either, for that matter.

Anyway, last time we learned a lesson or two from Lillian Eichler (who was a 19 year old copywriter when she wrote first The Book of Etiquette back in 1919-20) - we were eavesdropping on a couple out on a miserable dinner date. They seem to have had three major problems: Who Goes First, Ice Cream Spoons and Saying Goodnight. I wanted to find out exactly what they were supposed to be doing. My source:  Eichler's 1925 New Book of Etiquette, what else? Direct quotes from the book are in italics...

Who's On First: In entering a restaurant the woman precedes. That's it. Easy as pie - but not as easy as ice cream, because:

I Scream For A Spoon for Ice Cream:  The spoon is still used for ice cream, though the fork is now regarded as more correct. A new kind of wide-tined ice cream fork is appearing on fashionable tables.

Oh dear, is it? Maybe if you were eating a slice of ice cream this would be OK. But our dating couple were served parfait glasses. Hot fudge sauce will also be appearing on fashionable tables along with those ice cream forks, I suspect.

Vintage Ad Browser

Say Goodnight, Gracie: Unfortunately, Miss Eichler doesn't seem to have a dating section in the New Book. But she does have a few things to say about men calling on young women:

...sometimes the man says "Miss Blank, may I call some evening when you and your mother are at home?" And sometimes the young woman says, "Mr. Brown, Mother and I will be at home Wednesday evening. Wouldn't you like to stop in for a little while?"

So Maisie ought not to invite Nick in, not unless Mother Blank is sitting in the blazingly-lit parlor reading the Saturday Evening Post and scowling at the clock. And it is just as well that she is, because Mother knows where the Lux is, and how well it works on getting ice cream and hot fudge sauce out of fancy clothes. And she's hidden the silverware and the old Jell-O cubes too, one hopes.

Extremely Tidy, Yet Wildly Impractical

Last year I found two 1950s German household guides (one specifically devoted to childcare, one to decor and house management) at Goodwill. So I rescued them and put them next to all the other retro things I find and take home like a squirrel getting ready for the winter. The other squirrels in our tree aren't sure about all this. This would be the place for a nut joke. Or being out of one's tree.

But here's a funny picture from the decor guide, called Das Praktische Haushalts Buch. Well worth the dollar I spent on the book, right? Right?

Even many years after my one year of college German I can figure that out. The Practical Household Book! Hey, I remembered something. Excellent. Only I don't think that this picture shows us anything very practical. For here we have a grim, heavily made up lady sitting on the floor. She has exhausted herself by spending hours arranging all of her little friends around her.

Bonus points for arranging the ladles in an attractive sunburst pattern, though. And the wooden hangers sort of look like seagulls, that's nice too, I guess. And look at all those dishes, trying to ignore the vacuum cleaner. I know how they feel. I am trying to ignore mine right this minute.

A Date With Ice Cream and Confusion

He will probably breathe a sigh of relief when he leaves, and she will probably cry herself to sleep.*

Uh oh.

So you think you've had some bad dates. Well, sure. We all have. That is just one of life's little inevitables, isn't it? But did you know that most of your bad dates were probably caused by a lack of manners? Miss Lillian Eichler, 1920s etiquette guru, allows us to tag along on this excruciating evening when Nick and Mae go out on the town.

First, they go to dinner. And what's on the menu? Embarassment with a side of humiliation, of course. He didn't know whether to go in to the restaurant first or let Mae go on ahead. So Nick just blundered on ahead, then tried to be extra polite to make up for it. That was when the snarky waiter first started laughing behind his linen napkin.

Then they both got confused about which fork to use. Hint: you work from the outside of the place setting in. See, that wasn't so hard! At last came dessert. A relief? Not so much. The caption for this picture (which didn't crop very well, so I left it out) reads:

And now, at the table, both are embarrassed. Indeed, can there be any discomfort greater than that of not knowing what to do at the right time - of not being sure of one's manners? It is so easy for people to misjudge us.

Which is all true enough. But they are just having ice cream! How can they not know what to do with a delicious dish of ice cream? Nick, Mae, listen: just pick up your dessert spoons. See them? They are over on the top of your place setting, I believe. But maybe they are worried about hot fudge sauce. I can see that. There's a lot that could go wrong there. The waiter is trying not to burst out laughing again, you can tell. He can't wait to tell the other waiters about the chuckleheads at Table 2.

But there is worse still to come. That moment - by the door, at the end of the evening. You know what I mean, and so do they: 

Shall she invite him into the house? Shall she ask him to call again? Shall she thank him for a pleasant evening? In rapid confusion these questions fly through her mind. How humiliating not to know exactly what to do and say at all times!

Well, what should Mae say to Nick at the end of the date? "Come up and see me sometime" or, conversely, "I never want to see you or hot fudge sauce ever again"? At least Mae didn't order chicken salad for dinner - as far as we know.

I'll report back on Miss Eichler's rules of dating etiquette later this week. The illustrations are from an ad in Popular Science, April 1923.

* From the ad text, which is suitably dramatic yet vague.

Book Review: The Good Life on a Budget

The Good Life on a Budget: Delicious, fun and timeless tips for tough times
Jaqueline Mitchell, compiler
Osprey Publishing, 2011 (191 pp.)

If you like old housekeeping guides and cookbooks as much as I do, you will love The Good Life on a Budget, compiled by Jaqueline Mitchell (Osprey Publishing, 2011). It's a compilation of housekeeping tips from booklets published in Britain in the 1950s, with still-great advice on everything from cheap but delicious food, mending clothes, keeping things clean around the house and crafts.

Tasty tisanes (herbal teas), homemade weather vanes, how to make chutneys and preserves, and even a few wartime recipes like Mock Sausage - these are just a few of the things you'll find here. I've already copied out a few of the recipes for preserves because I've been meaning to make jam for some time now - and this may inspire me to actually, you know, do that.

Aside from the jam recipes, the other 1950s tips that particularly interest me in this book are those on how to darn holes in sweaters. I have a couple of beautiful old-ish wool sweaters that have some small but irksome holes in them (and aren't holes in sweaters always irksome). The Good Life on a Budget has a guide that makes darning look do-able even for me, who is so Not Handy with the mending.

There are also wonderful illustrations, some in color, featuring the original booklets and some old advertisements, too. I especially like the poster that announces "Green Vegetables Keep You Fit" that shows a cartoon elephant hoisting a little cabbage.

I really enjoyed this book and if you like retro advice and tips that stand the test of time, I think that you will, too.

Many many thanks to the folks at Osprey Publishing who were kind enough to send The Good Life on a Budget to me (the opinions are, of course, my own - I have to say that, even though you know that already).

*****
It would be delightful if you would join me over on my new Facebook fan page (the widget is over on the sidebar, you just need to click 'Like')! I will try and make that page fun, too. Maybe I can give you some darning tips - once I've tackled my desperate forest green cardigan, that is!

I haven't forgotten about another Etiquette Mystery, by the way. That's coming soon, I promise.

The Legendary Breakfast of ZO

Graphic Design Labs (Better Homes and Gardens, 1930)

Is it past ten before you throw off your listlessness? Does your husband need a second cup of coffee to wake him up? Do the children bicker about what they will eat for breakfast?

My goodness, Battle Creek Health Foods, you must have been peeking in on us this morning. What with all the coffee-pouring and bickering, it's no wonder I was draped over the laptop until, yes, past ten.

So am I glad that I came across this ad while looking through the fabulous Graphic Design Labs collection today. Until now, I had never heard of the mighty powers of ZO. Who knew that FIG BRAN (so exciting, it must be capitalized!) and something called ZO, put together, formed a breakfast with super powers even more amazing than Superman's, back in 1930?

ZO itself had figs in it. Zo, zo many figs. It was made of "bran and figs combined with Savita yeast extract." Plus also there is the to-be-expected yadda yadda about freedom from constipation, in the ad. I will spare you that. We've seen enough fruit salt and bran muffin and yeast ads here to know what combining figarific ZO with extra FIG BRAN will do to an unsuspecting, listless, coffee-addled person.

ZO "will send your husband off without a grouch." It will give you and me both "vim and stamina...till noon." Wait...huh? Only until noon? At 12:01, am I going to be like Cinderella running (or slumping, in this case) from the ball? Yes, ZO will wear off at high noon and leave me as vimless as a pumpkin the day after Halloween.

But so what. That name is enough to wake me up in the morning: ZO! There should have been a comic book series called ZO. Something that took place in ancient Egypt maybe, with evil yet listless mummies, and lightning bolts - and a superhero called ZO who wears a shiny black cape and a special jewel in the shape of a giant fig. The Legend of ZO needs to be told!

A Bread and Butter Waffle Letter

The bread and butter letter is what you write to thank people for a lovely visit, when you get home. And though this post is mainly to thank you for your detective work on the last post, I also want to let you know how much I enjoy visiting your blogs and being friends and all that...I don't comment enough, really, so it's high time for this. In fact, you deserve more than plain bread and butter. Make it bread and butter waffles, with plenty of Log Cabin Syrup straight out of 1955 (big version here).

So...thank you all so much for your amazing detective work on Muriel's bridal blunder! I have just had a look at the Weddings chapter of the Book of Etiquette, which as Barbara noted, is on line right over here (the link will take you to the beginning of the chapter). I think that as a lot of you said, her mistake was taking Bob the groom's arm and not her father's. But then Bob was supposed to be waiting at the altar, not hanging around the church door. What the heck is he doing there? I think it was Bob who made the first blunder, really. After all, this is a guy who does not know how to "dispose" (as he so charmingly puts it) of his dance partners.

Many thanks to everyone, in no special order at all, including:

Barbara at if i didn't have a sense of humor, a fantastically funny retro-ads blog that I love

Heather, one of my new genealogy friends, at the excellent Nutfield Genealogy
 
Stephanie, who inspires me to keep writing fiction because she is quite amazing, at Rockets and Dragons

Bill at Life on Planet Bill - one of Kitchen Retro's earliest readers and friends, who has a great blog with amazing photographs

Cari Hislop at Regency Romance Novels, a terrific novelist who has made so many fabulous comments on Kitchen Retro posts old and new, that I can't possibly thank her enough

Kath Lockett at Blurb from the Burbs one of my favorite blogs ever, so go visit right now!

Eric Edelman (fellow New Yorker!) at Art of Retro Collage, an amazing collagist and found-object sculptor

Mags L. Halliday at stripedpolkas, a compedium of "well designed, interesting or curious things"  - just my kind of place!

Marcheline at Mental Meatloaf (how can you resist a blog title like that?), another new pal who has, like Cari, written so many wonderful and witty comments on KR posts that I can't possibly thank her enough either, except to tell you to go read her right now, her blog is fab!

RelaxMax at Clarity2011, who always makes me think (but he doesn't know that because I don't always have a good comment to show for my mental endeavors)

and VeggieMama, whose recipes are reviving my menu plans, which at present have all the verve of the sad lettuce at the back of the crisper drawer (fear not, sad lettuce, help is on the way, although you are probably compost-bound)

and thank you paula, too, who did not leave a link.

I think I got everyone there. I hope so! And I hope that you all know how much I appreciate you, because - I do. That includes all of you who didn't or don't comment, I understand, believe me, I'm the same way mostly myself! Thank you for reading my stuff here and elsewhere  - an incredible thing for an introverted writer sequestered at a desk piled with notebooks and papers and heaven-knows-what-else.

And - maybe we should do more posts like that one! What do you think?

The Mysterious Wedding Blunder

Detail from ad, May 1921

More fun with 1920s etiquette - the mystery deepens here in this 1921 advertisement for Lillian Eichler's Encyclopedia of Etiquette. We've been here before with ads for her mere Book of Etiquette - ads packed with strange anecdotes and illustrated with uneasy Jazz Age socialites. Well, today we're going to Bob and Muriel's wedding. We got there late, and we missed the wedding. But that's not why Muriel is crying.

Muriel, darling, what's wrong? This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, et cetera!

Well, says Muriel in the ad, she planned for this for two whole months. She arranged for the flowers, the music, the "shimmering" wedding dress. She sent cards. She did it all.
 
Oh, if only I could have known then the dark cloud that overshadowed my happiness!

Oh no! What is it? It's Bob's striped trousers, isn't it? They are a little bit too short and tight. Or are you showing too much ankle? But you're a modern gal, a flapper (I mean that in the most polite sort of way) - I don't think anyone is going to mind that.

Then Muriel talks about the church - it looked swell! And the music was divine and maybe, oh maybe the whole scene "overwhelmed" her. Hey, I understand. Stress can make you do some pretty funny things. Did you stumble when you went down the aisle? Did you belch? Wait, maybe it's because Bob is supposed to be waiting for you up at the altar. But - that's not your fault. Someone should have told Bob! I just can't figure out what Muriel's blunder was.

OK, etiquette sleuths, we need your help! This is all that Muriel says:

...before I realized what I was doing, I had made an awful blunder. I had made a mistake right at the beginning of the wedding march, despite the weeks of preparation and the days of strict rehearsal!

Someone giggled. I noticed that the clergyman raised his brows ever so slightly....A hot blush of humiliation surged over me - and with crimson face and trembling lip I began the whole march over again.

You poor kid. How about that giggler, and the brow-lifting clergyman - speaking of rude. I mean, it's not like you started doing the Charleston or the can-can down the aisle - right? Actually, that sounds like a lot of fun. Please tell us that you did the can-can all the way to the altar! I think we could even get Miss Eichler to co-sign that one. We'll just give her a little extra champagne at the reception.

You can see the whole ad over here. It is delightful, especially the part where Muriel and Bob read the Encyclopedia of Etiquette after the wedding and discover all the blunders they've been making. Muriel still doesn't tell us what she did to ruin the wedding, though. And Bob delivers my favorite line in this melodrama:

"Why, dear, I never knew how to dispose of my dancing partner and return to you without appearing rude!"*

A match made in etiquette heaven.

*It is polite to dispose of dance partners at the side of the ballroom, so no one will trip over them, Bob. Not in the middle of the dance floor. Now you know.

Three Course Monster in a Box

This is the sort of thing you will find when you go hunting for retro gelatin recipes. Let me share the adventure with you! Unfortunately there are no pictures of this product-that-never-was, so I present you with a beautiful image of some Ann Page Elbow Macaroni. Macaroni does feature in my story, albeit in a tangential sense. But anyway:

Imagine, if you will, that it is 1955, and you want something quick to eat. How about a delightful TV Dinner? Well, maybe. But you will need an oven and a table and chair, at the very least, for this to work out. Suppose you want to eat on the run. But you don't just want a boring old sandwich! You want a complete meal. And Willy Wonka's chewing gum meal is not available. In fact, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory won't even be published for another ten years or so (nine years, to be exact).

One man, according to Billboard* (that noted culinary periodical), had the answer. How about a nice three-course meal in a small cardboard box that you could buy for 60 cents and eat with a spoon? Sound good? Here's how it was supposed to work: 

The food package, in a cardboard container, will measure about four by six inches and will include appetizer, main course and dessert, so arranged that the entire meal can be eaten with a spoon...Each course is separated by a thin layer of neutral edible food product which prevents intermingling of different courses. A neutral flavored gelatin or tapioca type ingredient is used as a separator.

Oh, yum. Neutral edible food product, my favorite. Surely it will form a perfect impermeable border between the appetizer, the main course and the dessert. And the clincher? The description of how you will eat your dinner-in-a-box:  

...The purchaser starts eating from the top of the package and works down.

Sort of like a mining operation, or digging a hole in the backyard. Bon appétit! And what are we going to find in this monstrous dinner-in-a-box? These were the test foods: 

Appetizers: tomato juice, shrimp, citrus fruit sections, antipasto
Main Courses: chicken macaroni salad, chicken potato salad, tuna salad, pineapple cottage cheese
Desserts: fruit cocktail, rice pudding, chocolate pudding, tapioca pudding

Try to imagine the possibilities. Antipasto versus chicken and macaroni, followed by an onslaught of, say, tapioca. Or tomato juice infiltrating pineapple cottage cheese, both being finally overwhelmed by chocolate pudding. All divided from each other only by a thin layer of  deliciously "neutral" gelatin. From a cardboard box. With a spoon. On the go.

It will not surprise you to learn that this was not a roaring success. In fact, this was the only mention of the Complete Meal that I could find.

*Billboard, "A Complete Meal," December 10, 1955, pp 84, 100. Title derived from this, which is a terrific book. Because fitting a three course meal into a little box is like trying to stuff a monster into a box, etc. Hey, this is the best I can do on a Monday. Better title next time. Possibly.

Everything But the Kitchen String

Life, August 6, 1945

"This string is all I need to plan my NEW kitchen!"

Uh huh. And all I need to redesign the back porch is - let me see -  this paper clip! And, um...see this rubber band? I am going to be writing my first symphony with that. Oh, and look - there's an old piece of cardboard. I am going to design a two-story addition on that as soon as I tear the address label off.

Oh, I'm kidding. I know what this confident 1945 gal means, I guess. And so does her mother. She'd better! Doesn't Mom look - bemused? Yes, you're planning your new kitchen with a string. Very nice. Just try not to inhale too much more airplane glue down on the assembly line, dear.

Of course, the string is helping her make that plan on the piece of paper. But doesn't she make the actual kitchen reno sound way too easy? We redid our kitchen a few years ago - someone had put fake brick and shingles all over the walls for a start (never mind the dark brown fridge and Harvest Gold oven)...but it took a long time, and it was messy. And expensive. And washing the dishes down in the laundry sink was not as easy as waving a piece of string around, either. That's all I'm saying.

The picture at the bottom shows Jack, home from the war (good thing he changed into a suit before venturing into that new kitchen) only to be surprised that Millie has redesigned the whole house.* Because she has a whole ball of that kitchen string. You know what that means.

You can check out the big version here. And coming up soon: some unusual retro recipes - the sort of thing that Millie is pulling out of that oven. Just check out how worried she looks!.

*She'll have to wait though, because Crosley wasn't making kitchen furnishings during the war - but they promised they would later, so keep those pieces of string and bits of paper handy!

Hello, I Must Be Going

More from Book of Etiquette ad (Popular Science, Jan 1924)

Maybe it would have been better to just keep walking, even if he was walking in totally the wrong way (between two ladies, ZOMG NO). Because oh dear the embarrassment. The horror. The confusion!

And he isn't the only one who's confused. I must go check what Lillian Eichler, the Emily Post of the Jazz Age (and author of the one and only Book of Etiquette) has to say about this appalling situation...

There are two issues here. One is Stopping For A Chat. The other is Raising the Hat. I think that's it. That's enough, probably.

Stopping For A Chat: Miss Eichler says that this is "entirely permissible, if certain rules of good conduct are observed." She says that on a country road you can "call a jolly 'Hello!'" from a distance, but not so much in the city. In the city, you need to put a lid on that kind of thing. But don't whisper either. And don't show off just because strangers are listening!

Raising the Hat: Basically, when you meet a lady you should lift your hat (don't just touch it, that is rude) and then put it back on until you say goodbye. Then you lift it again. Don't take your hat off and leave it off, though, unless it is warm out -  because that "is dangerous to the health."

I still can't see what terrible mistake this poor guy is making. Actually, it looks like those women are the ones being rude - they're totally ignoring him. I read the whole chapter entitled On the Street and the only thing I can think of is that the ladies aren't done talking and he is totally bored and trying to get away. Magical thinking: if I say bye bye and very politely lift my hat, maybe they will shut up. Miss Eichler doesn't mention this scenario, though.

Dear readers, I said politely (neither shouting a jolly HELLO nor whispering) - can you solve this etiquette mystery?

Title from the etiquette solution given in song form by Groucho Marx (who really ought to have written an alternative etiquette book, don't you think?) from the 1930 movie Animal Crackers:

Eating On A Jet Plane

Life, March 19, 195

If you were leaving on a jet plane, like that song by Peter Paul and Mary* that we used to have to sing all, all the time in our groovy 4th grade open classroom circa 1971 (and which is now droning away in my head, ugh) - well, you had to eat something on the jet plane, too, right?

So tell me this: what was the meal like last time you were on a plane? Let me guess. It was not delicious. Neither was mine, the last time I flew somewhere.

Well, take a look at the kind of thing people had for a meal on a plane 60 years ago. It is hard to believe, isn't it? All those dishes are china, and the silverware is silverware, not plastic. Oh, and the food is real, too.

The steak would be hard to cut in that round little bowl, though. No room to manouevre. And in the picture, it looks like a little chocolate cake (despite the mushrooms on top) -  according to an informal poll I took this morning (by dragging family members over to the computer screen). Otherwise, though, it all looks pretty good. The little TWA tubs contain salad dressing and "Dessert Sauce," by the way.

So anyway, I was thinking about what airplane food used to be like, and a little research soon took me to a 1937 Popular Mechanics article about TWA's Skysleeper Chief, a cross-continental flight which had little beds and card tables and all sorts of fancy things. It was an overnight flight so you could "have breakfast served in bed if you like[d]." I wouldn't like having to fly overnight just to get across the country, but the breakfast in bed might make up for that.

Mind that vacuum jug!

As for the food, it was "carried in pre-heated vacuum containers...[and] was placed on the plane just before it left Newark. Breakfast came on board at Albuquerque before you got up." There were 8 restaurants on the transcontinental route that provided the airplane meals. Hot foods and hot and cold water were packed in vacuum jugs. The salad and desserts went in a "cold box" cooled by dry ice. Crackers, china, napkins and silverware were in drawers in the galley - which also had a steam table built in so that the stewardesses could  keep things hot while they arranged everything on the plates.

Meanwhile, the TWA dieticians were planning new menus every day. And "usually the menu is arranged to include dishes typical of the section the plane is flying over." Because of course, you should have steak when you are flying over Kansas, and "fresh trout for breakfast" above Arizona. Oh, and lovely avocado salads "are part of a lunch or dinner in the southwest."

Fixing up the berths on the Skysleeper in 1937.

And when you were all tired out from eating, the stewardesses would make up your bed out of pairs of seats or in the berths in the sleeping compartments. You'd have a nice thick mattress and pillow made up with sheets and blankets.

The photos and the information on the TWA Skysleeper Chief are from Popular Mechanics, November 1937 - which is a shame, because this is exactly the plane I would like to take next time I have to fly anywhere. Only I would prefer my fresh trout for dinner, please. And I would prefer an ergonomic pillow (you know, the angled kind that help your spine not sink into the mattress), so I hope that they have some in the overhead compartments.

*Written by John Denver but PP and M made it famous, etc. etc. in 1969. It was, apparently, the second to last #1 song of the 1960s. I don't know what the last one was, though.

Stuck In the Middle With You

Detail from 1924 ad for Lillian Eichler's Book of Etiquette

It is so easy to make embarrassing mistakes in public. There is, for instance, the very obvious mistake that is being made in this picture. Do you know what it is? Can you point it out? Perhaps there are more mistakes than one - what do YOU think?

Well, for one thing, I think that Lillian Eichler thinks we are all idiots. Mistakes are being made - obvious mistakes - but she assumes that we don't have any idea what could be wrong. This is unacceptable!

I think that the man with the two ladies should be the one nearest the street so he can be the one to get splashed by taxis roaring by through the puddles. I'm also guessing that the lady in the background realizes this and is giving the Rude Middleman a filthy look (even filthier than those puddles). Oh, and I just noticed that the ladies are talking to each other and seem to be ignoring him. But I'm not sure.

Excuse me, please, while I go consult dear Miss Eichler's Book of Etiquette...

OK, got it. There's a whole chapter called "On the Street."* So let's all learn about how to walk down the street:

First in importance to remember when walking in public is poise and balance of bearing. [Meaning: stand up straight and try not to stumble. Good advice.]

The gentleman always walks nearest the curb unless on a special occasion when the street is very crowded and he wishes to protect her from the jostling crowds. When walking with two ladies, a gentleman's proper position is not between them; if it is in the evening, he offers his arm to the elder lady and the other friend walks by her side.** There seems to be a mistaken belief that a gentleman walking with two ladies must "sandwich" himself between them, but correct social usage teaches that this is entirely wrong.

Wrong or not, they'd better just keep walking - because when they stop and chat with some other people, the gentleman will be making even greater and more embarrassing mistakes. So stay tuned. And thank you, Miss Eichler, for the tip about poise and balance. I shall try and remember that next time I trip over the cat toys.

*The Eichler version of On the Road, I guess. Not that Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty cared who was walking nearest the curb or not.

**That sounds like a recipe for fun - arguing about who's older, and then one lady trailing along like a third wheel while the other two chat. And also: what happens if it isn't evening? Because it isn't evening in the picture.