Modern manners

Thursday

Mary Killen

Dear Mary solves problems for Jim Broadbent, N.M. Gwynne, Jesse Norman and others

Once again Mary has invited some of her favourite figures in the public eye to submit personal queries for her attention. From Jesse Norman MP Q. We’ve been having a little local difficulty at work with one or two colleagues who vigorously assert their loyalty to the organisation, but then go and join a would-be competitor. It’s not that this is bad for morale; on the contrary. But it confuses some of our customers. Your advice would be most welcome. A. Take the tip of a top industrialist who never tried to refuse a resignation: congratulate the deserter effusively on his decision and declare publicly that he and his new

Thursday

Mary Killen

Dear Mary: Do I really have to take my shoes off indoors?

Q. There has been a marked increase in the number of people who have pristine flooring and are so keen not to have outside dirt brought in that it has, in my view, entered the value system of good manners for me to offer to remove my shoes when arriving at their homes. That’s fine. But in the evening, especially if I’m invited to a dinner or drinks party, I think about my shoes according to the rest of my outfit. To then have to take off the soft, possibly Jimmy Choo, suede shoes or delicate leather boots and spend the evening in barely stockinged feet is, to me, uncomfortable

Thursday

Richard Madeley

Richard Madeley’s diary: Forgetting Tom Conti’s name, and other harrowing experiences

Oh God, it’s happened again. Another evening where I’m surrounded by people I know personally or have interviewed, and I can’t remember a single name. Multiple blanks. It’s a sort of self-fulfilling nervous tic — a phobia, almost. We were at a fundraiser at our kids’ former school in north London. For some reason, lots of celebs send their children there, including Jonathan Ross. He once joked that it’s the only school in London with a permanent posse of paparazzi hanging around outside the gates. Anyway, a veteran actor with grandchildren there strolled over for a chat. After he’d wandered off, I looked at my wife in mute appeal. ‘Tom

Toby Young Toby Young

Pity I’m a Celebrity’s token old guys

I had thought that my days of being approached by reality show producers hoping to put together a cast of D-list celebrities were behind me. Apparently not. A couple of weeks ago, I was contacted by the makers of The Jump, a Channel 4 programme in which assorted ‘personalities’ try their hands at various Alpine sports, including downhill slalom, bobsleigh racing and ski-jumping. I’d never heard of it, but it sounded like fun so I told my agent to set up a meeting. I thought the reason I must be back on the reality show radar was because I’ve published a book this year. Then, when I watched the first episode

Mary Wakefield Mary Wakefield

Patriotism isn’t uncivilised – it’s what makes civilisation possible

Is it racist to be patriotic? Is patriotism, by definition, small-minded and exclusive? When you strip away the onion layers of sentiment about history and hymns, Shakespeare and lawn clippings, does it have a hateful heart? I ask because, as I’ve written before, I feel patriotic, and until recently I’ve considered this to be a good thing. I felt particularly patriotic at a service in Ravenstonedale, Cumbria, last week. I slid in late and guilty, amid snippy Sunday stares. After the sermon we trooped outside and in the suddenly sunlit graveyard the vicar whipped a trumpet from his cassock and began to play. A pair of starlings began their electric

Anne Jolis

Steve Jobs’s button phobia has shaped the modern world

Koumpounophobia is the fear of buttons. Steve Jobs had it — or at least a strong aversion, which explained his affinity for touch-screens and turtlenecks. So do an estimated one of every 75,000 people alive today. Your correspondent was only recently made aware of the phenomenon when a friend, K of Cambridge, requested that I refrain from wearing buttoned shirts in his presence. ‘A minor quirkiness with buttons,’ he confessed over email, while we were planning a rendezvous. ‘They make me very mildly uncomfortable.’ I turned straight to Google: ‘fear of buttons’. There it was: koumpounophobia, from the modern Greek koumpi (‘to button up’), with case studies, digital fora offering

Thursday

Fraser Nelson

Revealed: the marriage gap between Britain’s rich and poor

[audioplayer src=”http://traffic.libsyn.com/spectator/TheViewFrom22_13_Nov_2014_v4.mp3″ title=”Fraser Nelson and Julie Bindel debate the inequality of marriage” startat=1048] Listen [/audioplayer]In the digital era, those looking for soulmates can be brutally clear about who need not apply. There are websites like Blues Match, for alumni of Oxbridge and Ivy League universities only. Then come the smartphone apps: Tinder, for straightforward dating, and ‘BeautifulPeople’, where members are kicked out if deemed too ugly. The latest arrival is Luxy, an app for those who don’t want to date anyone who needs to split a bill. Or, to use its own description, ‘Tinder without the poor people.’ Luxy has been deplored for its overt snobbery but it is, in

Thursday

Mary Killen

Dear Mary: How can I stop my future son-in-law saying ‘must of’

Q. My future son-in-law has been successfully house-trained in the use of upper-middle-class English over the years that he has been walking out with my daughter. However, one bad habit remains. How can I cure him of saying ‘must of’ when he means ‘must have’? He always says ‘of’ very clearly, as though he really means it. I dare not correct him for fear of making him feel inadequate. —Name and address withheld A. First disarm him with praise. Find an excuse to praise the fluency and elegance of his conversation, perhaps by comparing him with a less articulate contemporary. Then add, ‘And I don’t think I’ve ever caught you

Emily Rhodes

The unexpected joys of working while pregnant

‘You are like my cat.’ So I was told when eight-and-a-half months pregnant, just before going on maternity leave from the bookshop. I had hauled myself up from putting a book away on the bottom shelf — no mean feat when one is quite so heavily spherical — and this cat-loving young woman had caught me exhaling a little too vociferously. I certainly didn’t feel especially feline, but as it transpired her cat had just had kittens, and I looked just like the cat had looked before giving birth. The lady giggled. Working in the bookshop while visibly pregnant has made me aware how touchingly awestruck we all still are

Thursday

Mary Killen

Dear Mary: Is there a tactful way to shorten the guest list for my 21st?

Q. I am organising my 21st birthday party at our family house in Italy. It is a fantastic location, but it means that I can only invite about 20 guests. The result of this is that I am unable to invite a group of friends from a university society of which I am a member, despite several of them having invited me to their parties. I will be inviting one person from the group (I knew him away from the society), so the rest will become aware of it. I feel bad for not inviting them, but they are simply not any of my 20 closest friends. Is there anything

Henry Jeffreys

The fightback against wackiness starts here

[audioplayer src=”http://traffic.libsyn.com/spectator/TheViewFrom22_30_Oct_2014_v4.mp3″ title=”Henry Jeffreys and Sarah Coghlan from Movember discuss wackiness” startat=1491] Listen [/audioplayer]At Glastonbury in 2000 I noticed two young men both wearing enormous Y-fronts and carrying an even bigger pair with the word ‘pants’ written on it. They both looked miserable as you would if you’d come up with the idea while drunk and then found yourself stuck like that for the duration of the festival. Some of the more thuggish elements jeered and threw beer cans. Seven years later, at another festival I attended, they wouldn’t have attracted a second glance, because dressing up had become ubiquitous. This year, seven years on from that, far from being

Melanie McDonagh Melanie McDonagh

The cult of ‘mindfulness’

[audioplayer src=”http://traffic.libsyn.com/spectator/TheViewFrom22_30_Oct_2014_v4.mp3″ title=”Ruby Wax and Andy Puddicombe discuss mindfulness with Mary Wakefield” startat=75] Listen [/audioplayer]The chances are that by now either you or someone you know well has begun to practise ‘mindfulness’ — a form of Buddhism lite, that focuses on meditation and ‘being in the now’. In the past year or so it’s gone from being an eccentric but harmless hobby practised by contemporary hippies to a new and wildly popular pseudo–religion; a religion tailor-made for the secular West. Think how hostile an awful lot of companies are to organised religion; to any talk of ‘faith’. Now consider that in both America and the UK, it’s probably easier to

Thursday

Mary Killen

Dear Mary: Learning to love a man who whistles through his nose

Q. What can you do when disorganised friends say they would love to come to a concert with you but you suspect they won’t get round to buying the tickets? The concert in question, run by the Friends of the Georgian Society of Jamaica, is this Saturday at St James’s, Paddington, with folk songs collected by Dr Olive Lewin and music by Tippett and Ramirez, and I want to plan dinner afterwards. How can I, without seeming like a bully, make them get their acts together and buy tickets before they are sold out? The dynamic of our relationship is that, were I to buy them, they would feel even

Harry Mount

It’s time to shave that beard: the decade of the hipster is over

[audioplayer src=”http://traffic.libsyn.com/spectator/TheViewFrom22_23_Oct_2014_v4.mp3″ title=”Harry Mount and Aleks Eror discuss hipsters” startat=1572] Listen [/audioplayer]Calling all hipsters, it’s time to get the razor out! You have hit peak beard. You’ve had a decade of getting away with those narrow, short trousers and the studiously thought-out socks; with the Victorian archdeacon beards and the shaven sides to your heads. It wasn’t even that good while it lasted. Like gay fashionistas — but without any humour or bite — the hipsters stood in front of the wardrobe for an age every morning. And then proceeded to pick out random combinations of clothes straight from the £1 reject basket in a rural Norfolk branch of Help

Thursday

Mary Killen

Dear Mary: Can I run out on an apprenticeship for my dream interview?

Q. I have been trying to get an apprenticeship in fashion for over a year without success. I just had a day-long interview where I had to sew and cut and was employed on the spot. My problem is that a few hours later, I got the call to come in to be interviewed by a designer who has been my fashion idol since I was 15. He would be much cooler to work for. He may not offer me a job but it seems like a chance of a lifetime. How should I play this, Mary? —Name and address withheld A. Honour is all. ‘Employed on the spot’ means

Rory Sutherland Rory Sutherland

Why everywhere should be more like Essex

Apart from the Wye Valley, where I grew up, there are only two places in Britain I’d consider living: Kent and Essex. Since Kent grabbed the ‘Garden of England’ moniker, it’s generally considered the posher of the two, but in reality the two counties are mirror images of each other: in the words of one travel writer, the Medway towns are ‘where you take your northern friends when they claim that southerners are soft’. In both places it is possible to drive through an idyllic medieval village and two miles later find yourself at a KFC drive-thru which is open until two in the morning (I like both). I now

Thursday

Jeremy Vine

Jeremy Vine’s diary: Zipcars, hipster milk and the word that means I’m losing an argument

Last Tuesday I tried to sign up to a new life. My wife and I argued, slightly. ‘I don’t think this will work!’ she laughs, and I reply feebly: ‘But babe, it’s the future.’ (My use of the word ‘babe’ is like a label on the conversation — WARNING: HAVING ARGUMENT WHICH I AM ABOUT TO LOSE). She protests that she needs a car for ferrying kids and clearing the allotment and occasional 5.30 a.m. starts at work, and I produce a small piece of plastic and wave it, like Neville Chamberlain. This is my trump card. I have signed up to Zipcar. With this rectangle I can unlock a hire car

Tanya Gold Tanya Gold

Today’s Disney princesses look like Russian mafia wives. This is their café

The Disney Café is a gaudy hell on the fourth floor of Harrods, Knightsbridge. It is adjacent to the Harrods Disney Store, and also the Harrods Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique, in which females between the ages of three and 12 can, for fees ranging from £100 to £1,000, be transformed into the tiny, glittering monsters called Disney princesses. They look like the late Queen Mother, but miniaturised. They glide — or are carried, if very small — from boutique to café in hooped plastic gowns in poisonous pink; combustible cloud-dresses, made for arson. Their hair is tight with curls and hairspray, and topped with the essential tiara. They look obliviously class-obsessed

The Spectator

Don’t worry Brooks Newmark: paisley was sexy once…

Paisley power Paisley pyjamas were in the news. While associated with the town in Renfrewshire, whose mills produced the patterns from 1805, what we know as paisley was first popularised in France thanks to its part in the courtship between the power couple of the day: Napoleon and Josephine. — While stationed in Egypt in 1798 he sent her a shipment of Kashmiri shawls which did not immediately grab her eye. She described the design as ‘ugly and expensive but light and warm. I have serious doubts that this fashion will last.’ — But she later changed her mind and was painted wearing one of the shawls, leading to mass popularisation. Who sexts? Brooks Newmark resigned as minister for civil society

Thursday

Julie Burchill

Women on Facebook are too bitchy even for me

In the heyday of the Hollywood studio system, Louis B. Mayer, head of MGM (‘More stars than there are in the heavens’) was rumoured to have had a very strange chart on his wall. This graph, allegedly, kept a record of the menstrual cycles of the studio’s leading ladies: Ava Gardner, Lana Turner, Grace Kelly and the rest. By consulting it, directors and cameramen knew when their precious cargo might be feeling a mite tearful and would ruin her make-up if spoken to sharply, or when her skin might not be in the best condition for a big close-up. Some mornings when I come back from my husband’s place, sit