You`re all experts on etiquette and fashion style, to be sure. So tell me, please, what`s wrong with the following scene:
It was another glamorous, exciting night in New York-near midnight. I had just had an apres-theater bite to eat with screen and stage star Elizabeth McGovern, and we were standing on Manhattan`s scruffy 8th Avenue not far from notorious Times Square.
I was dressed like Dr. Zhivago-no, not as in the scene where he`s going to the Grand Ball, but where he is walking back from Siberia along the railroad tracks. Elizabeth was dressed as a Smith College girl might dress if she were trying to pass for a bag lady-jeans, boots, heavy sweater, knit cap, parka and, I think, 37 scarves.
We were looking for a cab, but none appeared. Instead, a dark sedan pulled up. A swarthy man with a Che Guevara mustache rolled down the window and said, ”You want a car?”
Just checking
”Where are you going?” I said. This was not as stupid as it sounds. I suspected his planned destination might have been a deserted warehouse on the waterfront in Bayonne, N.J.
He looked at me as though my remark were indeed as stupid as it sounded, and said, ”Where do you want to go?”
I told him the Upper West Side, and then the Upper East Side. A pained expression came over his face. Perhaps he was hoping I would say Bayonne.
Elizabeth, though her hit movies have been doing quite nicely, thank you, got down to basics.
”How much?” she said.
An even more pained expression came over his face. ”Eight bucks,” he said. Before I could even reach for the door, Elizabeth hopped in.
Zero hour
The answer is that there is absolutely nothing wrong with this scene. IT`S WINTER! On this particular evening, just a few weeks ago, the temperature was down around 10-I`m not sure which side of zero-and the winds would have kept a Dennis Conner huddling below decks.
I would never for a moment make light of the need for style, manners and the social graces. They are the bedrock of civilization, and there`s little enough of that in this country as it is.
But when the jet stream starts giving cities in Tennessee and Georgia weather reports that would be more seemly in Flin Flon, Manitoba, some strictures really must be bent a little-lest the stylish, well-mannered person become frozen stiff.
– Always dress for the climate, not the occasion. When the temperatures fall to something akin to Dan Quayle`s IQ, let Harry Volkman or some other weatherperson be your fashion guide, not Vogue or W magazine.
I shiveringly recall watching Britain`s Princess Di show up for an opera premiere and a gala dinner in New York on a frosty night last January in a gown cut so royally low it exposed more square footage to the elements than Lambeau Field in Green Bay. Proving what? That she`s superior to mere mortals? No wonder Prince Charles stays away from her so much. He must be afraid of getting frostbite.
– If you must dress up on wintry nights, make sure it`s up to the neck. And you might do like my sensible friend the Countess Barat, and wear a set of thermal underwear underneath, as she did to an inaugural ball once.
Elizabeth was dressed perfectly for our situation that night, even though we`d gone to one of those trendy theater district bistros. The stares she received had nothing to do with her clothes, believe me.
And anyway, I`ve seen people dressed just like that at L.A.`s ultrachic Spago when it was 75 degrees outside.
– Plan ahead, just like Admiral Peary did. Remember that there are no cabs in frigid weather. They do not exist. There are just yellow vehicles with fiends inside who cackle hellishly as they drive by with their ”Off Duty”
signs on.
What I should have done for Miss McGovern was hire a car for the evening. If you can`t afford a $300-an-hour Rolls Royce, as my friend Margaret the Smith Girl was fond of having me acquire when there was the hint of a sprinkle in the air, you can get a decent car and driver for as little as $15 an hour, even in New York. And if the decent car turns out to be a 10-year-old Pontiac with ”FREE AZERBAIJAN!” bumper stickers, so what? The doorman is likely to be huddled inside and won`t notice. These days, he might well be from Azerbaijan himself.
– Try, yes, the bus. As unimpressively plebeian as that sounds, they generally keep these things quite toasty. And, even if they take you many blocks from where you`re going, as they usually seem to do, you`ll at least thaw out for a while.
– Avoid adventurous destinations. If a friend suggests going to a trendy new spot in, say, Bayonne or Hegewisch, suggest waiting until spring (In the case of Hegewisch, July. In the case of notorious Times Square, never again). – Accept the kindness of strangers. There`s something about an arctic chill that brings out the inner-warmth of people-even if they have Che Guevara mustaches and want eight bucks for the ride. Don`t be standoffish, especially when you`re standing knee deep in slush. But do drop names. I don`t know if our driver actually did have in mind heading for a deserted warehouse in New Jersey, but, right after we hopped in, I found it convenient to mention the name of a New York homicide detective I know.
– Skip sidewalk chitchat and small talk. I recall walking along Lake Shore Drive in one howling blizzard when I passed a woman I (barely)
recognized as my friend Lili Schenck, the chic Chicago coiffeuse. I called out to her, having to unwrap all the scarves around my face to do so. She had to unwrap her scarves to hear what I was saying. She was obviously relieved to find I was not some strange fiend, but must have thought me quite daft.
– Don`t stand on ceremony. If your companion is the closest to the door, don`t fight her for it out of some silly faithfulness to the gentleman`s code. The same goes for elegant social gestures. True to the boulevardier`s code, I kissed Miss McGovern`s hand in farewell. Being a well-brought-up Midwestern woman, she removed her glove to permit this. Fortunately, I accomplished this arcane gesture with the utmost alacrity. Otherwise, we might still be frozen together like that.
Which reminds me of the absolutely most imperative rule of wintertime social life. As Dr. Zhivago learned the hard way, never go out with someone you don`t mind spending a little extra time with.
