Etiquette or Retro Rubbish?

I'm in the middle of reading Mirielle Guiliano's (of French Women Don't Get Fat fame) Women, Work and the Art of Savoir Faire. Savoir Faire meaning the ability to do or say the right thing. I believe this is something that everyone deep down is hopeful of, otherwise we would be all have rocket launchers in the back garden instead of water tanks. I enjoy reading about business etiquette and doing a personal assessment of my own behaviours and discovering I am borderline acceptable to have in public and not quite in the raised by wolves category. In the business world, etiquette is very much sculptured by the culture of its inhabitants. Times have changed, I have worked in companies with call centres whose inhabitants viewed my daily wearing of hosiery as either so archaic they thought I was attempting to be retro in a creepy kind of insane way, or had some rare skin disease on my legs that required covering.

When it comes to etiquette, the public or social world leaves you to your own devices. Coming up to the season of Christmas breakups, too much booze and bad food breakdowns I'm considering the advertisement for the Debretts Etiquette for Girls who apparently range from 16 years to 30. Beyond that I think you are expected to be too far gone and left to your Abba collection or expected to do the right thing and go away and die.

With headings such as 'Flirting to meeting the parents, The capsule wardrobe and Special occasions - from festivals to polo and private jets, Dining out, socialising and entertaining at home' I can only anticipate that after reading this I will have flirted my way into a new family, taken pills that make me think I look good in clothes, taken a private jet to a polo match on the way back from a festival and will have a home big enough to entertain more than 2 people. I also note that this website offers a competition whereby you can win a bottle of whisky. No doubt after which you will have disgraced yourself enough to forget your newly learned skills and returned to the great Shazza you were in the first place. Cheers.

Not a successful day of shopping. I'm loathed to spend more than I need to on makeup. Paying over $30 for sparkly talcum powder seems just plain stupid really when I could be spending that money on something edible I can shove down my face. So I had breakfast at Mr Tulk and settled in with my scrambled eggs and coffee and the newspaper. I like to bring my own paper to cafe's because I'm not fond of pages stuck together with jam or someone else's sourdough crumbs rolling into my lap. I was just coming to the end of the travel section and sizing up the remainder when a junior thing leans over my shoulder and rips the weekend magazine from under my pile and strides off. I looked around but she got away or blended into the crowd. Now even I've made the mistake of newspaper assumptions but have always checked with the nearest occupier as to the ownership before whizzing off with someone's daily read. Such lack of manners I thought. In future I must remember to nail my newspaper to the goddam table before some slip of thing comes takes off with the effing thing.