From the year of its founding, 1846, Town & Country has memorably declared as its mission "to instruct, to refine, and to amuse." And no shortage of its content since then has focused on social do's and don'ts in the hopes of establishing and preserving those traditions that maintain civility and show humanity in its softest, most flattering light.

And yet. There are times, however rare, when even those of us who care very deeply about such things simply cannot be reasonably expected to adhere to the advised mores.

So it is in the same "instruct/refine/amuse" spirit that I have put together, based on personal experience, a sort of manual of when good manners were tried, without success, and had to be abandoned. "Break Glass Only in Emergency"—that kind of thing. I'm not saying these prescriptions are going to make you more popular, but they will save you a good deal of time and tsuris.

As a decorator I have been kicked in the teeth quite often by conventions of etiquette; as a friend, husband, and guest even more. If my suggestions for how to mitigate this pain can save just one person from being pathologically bored, trapped, stood up, or left hungry, it will have been worth it. Herewith, a week's worth of permission to chuck social conventions out the window.

Night 1. Punctuality

Is it acceptable, if one is asked for dinner at 7:30 p.m., to leave without a word if the meal has not begun by 9:00 p.m.?

You know what? It sure is. I'm a working stiff, and if I make a plan to get somewhere properly dressed at an appointed time, I want the thing to happen. I could be anywhere—home with my children, sitting at my favorite restaurant, or eating a sandwich at my desk. But instead I am with you, and after 45 minutes (maximum) of hanging around chatting I am ready to eat.

The usual excuse for a long delay is that one guest is late and we are obliged to wait for him, but screw that. The pros know that dinner should start before everybody's drunk and out of jokes. My wife has seen me do a "French leave" unfed many times, and on the most recent occasion, when I told her I was about to bolt she said, "Go ahead, you're on your own." She is a nicer person than I am.

Headshot of David Netto
David Netto
Contributing Editor
David Netto is a writer and interior designer.