why I own a set of fish forks

When I was very young I happened to notice that all pictures of my Mum had her standing, no matter what the mood on her face was indicating, in a singularly lovely pose: her left foot 3 inches before her right, perfectly aligned with her back foot, which was centred between her hips, navel, ribcage and shoulder blades. However because she’d been told she did not have a symmetrical face, these pure lines were positioned not beneath the focal point of chin and nose, but beneath cheek and brow.

Yet in all the photos she's a beauty. And in all my young photos, pre leaving home and her influence, so am I. And trust me, I’m no beauty. Some occasional flares of wicked humour or earthy charm? Perhaps. Lipstick? Every day. Confidence? Dwindling, middling, occasionally high.
But back then I would turn my chin just so. Angle my shoulders to show their strength, but still point my toe. There was a point to that pointed toe- it made me feel lovely and look svelte.

Emily Post noted in her first edition of ‘Etiquette’ that the point of all the social codes she was about to explain was not to create class distinction, or a mode of behaviour that only the learned could have access to, or a claim to refinement and nobility. She explained that all social codes, from cutlery laying to the proper arrangement of seats round a hearth should only exist to make life pleasanter for all sharing it in social space.

The use of a fish fork had a point- the dainty fork allows for small fluttery flakes of fish to be rested in the front of the mouth to melt on the tongue. A large fork creates a different experience entirely.

The knowing of when to speak, to shut up, to take a gift to a hostess, to switch off a mobile phone and pay attention to your immediate surroundings all have the same point- the creation of pleasantness.

I don’t long for the old rules she posited and the time-wasting they involve- but I am in love with pleasantness and charm. Yet charm is not always polite either- I’ve been charmed by men who know when the use of the word cunt is deliciously, salaciously appropriate and been charmed by women with big appetites, red wine lips, strong sentiments and hairy pits.

So if you visit- come only to hear about the people in my world and what amazes me about them- their unique capacity to charm, to surprise, to create an atmosphere of pleasingness through their wit and generosity.

Pull up a chair by my table while l make you a martini. The stolen flowers you bought me are lovely; is that with an olive or a twist?
Now tell me this: What charms you or makes you peevish?
And what makes you want to take a well-polished fish fork to someone?

a slow disrobing...

Nancy is in her room, taking off her pearls, unrolling her stockings and wiping off her lipstick. Her old diary is being wrapped up and boxed away to the attic; packed with mothballs and left to fall apart.
Emily, the new girl around here, wanted to kill her with arsenic in an ice-cream cone, but then Emily is a possibly hysterical lady who has a lot she wants to say. I've told Emily she can start talking when she's finished her book and gotten some clothing on.
Emily's Posts on life, love and etiquette are coming soon.

Cheek to cheek

martini etiquette

It is the height of rudeness to mistreat a martini, that most delightful of things- a conversation between the bass notes of gin, the hushed treble of the vermouth and the moment’s frisson of a pimento-stuffed olive. Depending on the bartender this conversation might end with the vermouth jumping up to slap the face of the gin. But when its done right the gin is a deep- voiced man murmuring in one’s ear, the vermouth is a breathless ‘yes’ and the plump olive, drenched in flavour, is that first moment of flirt…

To go out and drink a martini should be done with a sense of occasion, of almost formalised pleasure in the culmination of moments that have taken you there.
It is not downing ten of them. It is dressing up, putting on French perfume, sitting in a darkened below- street club and listening to that other interplay of elements, the musical conversation that’s jazz.

Perfume, like martinis, is not for drowning one’s sorrows, but rather a hushed conversation on the skin between the bass notes (woods, musks, herbs, resins) mid notes (florals) and top notes (florals and fruits) I’m a public servant! I can’t afford to wear Dior couture but thanks to duty free shopping I can and will wear the scent. So there I am, smelling like a good Librarian should, supping on my hopefully perfect drink

Some people say about martinis- "I don’t get it”. Some people say that about jazz too.
To them I say try again, somewhere better, because it can be that good! When I hear a double bass solo evolve into a crackingly hot drum solo I YELL! And have been unfortunately known to even yell GO CATS GO (which is sadly the name of a Dr Seuss book, or was that ‘Go Dog Go’?)

So sip your drink and sip it slow, but take it seriously when a bartender asks:
“what’s your pleasure?”