Entertaining and Men Behaving Badly at Dinner Parties

And One More Thing...; A Mother's Advice on Life, Love, and Lipstick
by Joan Caraganis Jakobson

When daughters strike out on their own, they usually know the basics: never answer the door without asking who's there, always write thank-you notes, don't wear a T-shirt that says "Beer is Food" to a job interview. But it's usually only the do-or-die warnings that stick: daughters are notorious for their allergic reactions to their mother's advice. Now, for daughters of all ages who wish they had listened just a little more-and for their mothers, who want to pass on the invaluable information only a mother can give-comes a book that offers hundreds of sophisticated, savvy pointers on just about everything a young woman needs to know.

Unabashedly modern, practical, and wise, And One More Thing...is based on the journal Joan Jakobson created for own daughter when she became engaged (the daughter, not Joan-although she was married twice). And in addition to telling you how much to tip bellmen and doormen, this fearless author explores subjects the etiquette books won't touch-like how to spot a cheating spouse and why actual childbirth should never be videotaped.

Are e-mail thank-you notes ever ok? Should you tell a friend you saw her husband out with another woman? What are the important differences between Jewish and WASPy men ... so-so and fabulous flower arrangements ... imitation and real Pradas? Why should you use lash primer and, for heaven's sake, never hesitate to talk about sex and politics at a dinner party? An often hilarious mixture of attitude, priceless insights, and time-tested observations, And One More Thing... is the only guidebook of its kind. Who could ever have guessed that Mother really does know best?

Chapter 1

and one more thing . . .

Mommy, shouldn't you begin this book by discussing how to live on your own for the first time? But then, why would I expect the conventional response from you? Okay, why do you always say, "Never pass up a party"?

Because you never know who you might meet. If you do go to a party and find that it's a bust, you can always leave, but if you don't go at all, you will spend the next week listening to friends describe the best night they ever had and maybe the next year wondering what or who might have been if you had fixed your hair and gone.

I think that the more often I go out in the evening, the thinner I become. When I stay in at night, I have dinner and then sit in front of the television with a book or magazine. I find myself going into the kitchen every ten or fifteen minutes for something to eat. When I'm out, I have dinner and don't snack away during the hours between dinner and bed. I don't share this discovery with many people because I sound like an airhead, but I think it's the truth.

Whatever. Move on.

Okay, party specifics. Let's start with the invitations. A majority of birthday party invitations I now receive include the words "No Presents

Please" or worse, "No Gifts," printed in the lower right-hand corner. (I think gift is an unattractive and somewhat cheesy word and I much prefer present.) The motives behind this unsettling directive remain obscure (unless your guest list is so extensive that you'd have to take a leave of absence from your job to write thank-you notes). When a hostess has spent days preparing for a party by scraping the mildew off the shower curtain, wrapping up little hot dogs in phyllo dough and baking them, and enlarging embarrassing high school yearbook photographs and stationing them at strategic points around the living room for guests to snicker at for years to come, she deserves a little something. Having birthday parties without presents is like taking away Christmas and replacing it with Flag Day.

Since RSVP stands for répondez s'il vous plaît, or respond if you please, it is not necessary to have "Please RSVP" printed on your invitations.

And when you call your hostess to respond to an invitation, do not say, "I'm calling to RSVP," and assume that your hostess thinks that you're accepting. You are responding, but it's up to you to tell her that you're either attending or not. You should be specific and say, "I would love to come to your cocktail party" or "I'm so sorry that I won't be able to come to your cocktail party."

There seems to be a movement afoot to put "Not entertaining and men behaving badly at dinner parties

Black Tie" on invitations. I trust you will not be a part of it. This is unnecessary, because unless the host or hostess says it is "Black Tie," it's not. Some will say, "I have no choice but to put 'Not Black Tie' on the invitation because otherwise people don't know what to wear and they call me." Let 'em call. It's their problem, not yours.

I think that's as much as I can absorb about invitations. What advice do you have about the actual event?

If you are late for dinner at someone's house, don't bring your hostess a bunch of flowers as a gesture of contrition. Believe me, at that point the last thing she wants to think about is going into the kitchen and finding a vase, filling it, and arranging some flowers. If you want to apologize for your tardiness, send her a plant or flowers, in a vase, the next day. And don't be late again.

Have music playing, especially during the cocktail hour. And turn up the volume a bit more than you would if there were only two of you present. If the volume is higher than usual, but not enough to be piercing or annoying, your guests will have to speak up, thereby making the evening seem more festive and exciting.

If the occasion is a seated lunch or dinner, and you have to rent tables, rent fewer large ones. and one more thing . . .

Don't invite forty people and seat them at ten tables of four. Use four tables that seat ten guests. Otherwise, the whole notion of talking to many different people is lost. You might as well be playing Scrabble.

Don't even think of asking to sit next to your boyfriend or husband at a dinner party. This is too tiresome for your hostess. Why would you want to sit beside the person you come with? Isn't the purpose of a party to have a spirited conversation with other people, to meet someone who might tell you something that would make you look differently at life, to share a truly riveting piece of gossip with your date on the way home as you rehash the evening? If not, then the two of you should stay at home, order in burritos, and watch Friends reruns.

Copyright © 2005 by Joan Jakobson

About the Author

Joan Jakobson has written the "Hers" column for the New York Times Sunday magazine, the "My Turn" column in Newsweek, the "Social Graces" column for Town & Country, and the "On My Mind" column for Cosmopolitan. Her articles have also appeared in Family Circle, New York, Bergdorf Goodman Magazine, Civilization, Quest, and New York Social Diary. She has a daughter and son, and six stepchildren. She lives with her husband in New York City.