Early Departures: too tacky to hang around!

The timing of arrivals and departures from social engagements can be tricky. You probably want to avoid being first to arrive, last to leave (unless, of course, you're the best friend or co-host), but how late is fashionably late and how late is just rude? And where is that fine line between "making an appearance" and barely showing up?

It's a tough area, ladies and gentlemen, and there aren't really clear answers. But here's something I know to be as true as no white shoes before Memorial Day: it is TACKY to leave major events prior to the major event. I'm not talking about leaving before the cake is cut, I'm talking about leaving so early you may as well have not come.

Case and point: do not leave graduation before the person you came to see has received her diploma. A friend of mine spent years in school only to have her grandparents leave while "Adams" and "Anderson" got their diplomas - even though THEY gave her a last name approximately 22 letters of the alphabet later.

Sure, it's hard to wait around sometimes. And sometimes you've got multiple events in one day - but let's AT LEAST try and be there for the main event. Do you leave the Fourth of July picnic while the sun is setting? Do you leave a baptism before the baby gets water poured on it? Do you leave a New Year's Eve party before the midnight champagne? Do you leave a football game at the end of third quarter?

Not if you have class you don't.

Tacky Behavior: Abandoning Your Post

Ladies and Gentlement, I appologize. It has been far too long since there has been an update from yours truly, and laziness is tacky behavior. Forgive me...

Since the last post, however, there has been much to write about. First topic of discussion is a classic "when tacky meets classy." Now, there are some colors that always make a gal look like the epitome of class (see, e.g. Red & Black). There are other less fortunate combonations that usually make a girl look like a color-blind drunk person put together her outfit. Usually, purple and red are exactly this combination, but dear readers, sometimes you can pull it off:

That's right - TP and I are now officially proud owners of law degrees. Classy. Even in purple and red.

In other news, I have left the cold gray skies of the Northeast for the warm summer sunshine of the South. This means a whole new world of classy and tacky. Quick observations: the classy factor is completely different down here - I'd forgotten that one is almost expected to wear her pearls to class... However, this is not a land free from tack - exhibit A is the cute Southern grandma in a full on pink warm up suit at the grocery store talking so loudly about her prescriptions to the pharmicist that we ALL know about her achin' heart. Pink on pink (with pink shoes) would be one thing - the pink bow clipped in her hair... Tack.

I promise more news this week and from now on - stick with me and I'll show you how a whole new part of our great country is tacky. Expect an upcoming post on overly dramatic patriotism by the way - for a region that once LEFT this country, the South sure does love it some U.S. of A.

The Walk of Shame...

Oh yes, we're going there.

Don't judge. You've probably been there, too. Maybe you didn't do all that the name implies, but who here, dear readers, has not pulled back on their cocktail dress and heels (or their suit and wrinkled shirt) and made it back through their city, campus, neighborhood, or even just apartment building without the aid of a shower or comb (or a memory of the night before)? Sometimes the prior night's outfit is forgone all together and replaced with an over sized pair of gym shorts and baggy t-shirt (which go great with black pumps).

It's a fact of life. And while perhaps it's an act inherently characterized as tacky (because really, no one's mother ever told them it was okay to do THAT) there are ways to class it up.

Do:

• Steal some mouthwash, clean up the smudged make up, wet your hair and borrow a comb.
• Leave a note if you get up first - preferably with a way to reach you. You don't have to see them again if you don't want to, but it's the classy thing to do.
  
• Wear shoes when you leave - even if it's heels with aforementioned gym shorts. We're not Britney.

Do not:

• Discuss your current situation with people on the subway, the cab driver, or people at the coffee shop that you pop in - everyone knows what you're doing, no need to explain. Also refrain from discussing the night on your cell phone in all the above places - no one wants to know.
• Guess the person's name. Snoop or just say "hun."
• Go to class, work, or brunch in what you have been wearing all night.

We may not be proud of it, but let's do it with some remaining shreds of dignity, shall we?

Some of my (many) thoughts on wine...

Jesus drank wine. And if you've ever attended any sort of Jewish celebration, you know the wine flows. Come to think of it, most everyone can agree that wine is a good thing. Who am I to disagree? And while usually it is very easy to appear classy (perhaps even feign class) by sipping from a wine glass at dinner, happy hour, or any other time, even wine can be tacky.

Some things to avoid:

• If you're bringing wine as a host/hostess gift, bring red wine. Bringing white wine means you either have to chill it (and then your suggestion is, "Here, we should drink this. I have better taste than you) or you don't chill it (and then you're saying, "We can't drink this, so you'll be stuck with it. And I don't even like it that much"). There are exceptions of course - if you happen to know the tastes of the host, if you were told to bring white, etc. But generally, play it safe.
• White Zinfandel. This isn't even a real wine - it's sweetened white trash alcohol. Rose is fine, even trendy. White Zin is not.
• Sending back wine at a restaurant. Exception of course if the wine is actually bad, but other than that - really, who are you?
• Franzia. Enough said. Though certain authors of this blog may (or may not) have played Franzia dodgeball. Judge away...
  

Exit, stage left (gracefully...)

Losing is not fun. Sometimes you lose when you really deserved to win, and sometimes you lose even when you really wanted something. At this time, take note from Sen. John McCain and show some grace and class as you congratulate the winner and thank your friends.

Do not go on an internet rampage.

I personally don't like to air dirty laundry, but since our readership is so low (quality, not quantity is what counts), I figured this is safe. Plus, TP and I are so uninvolved we didn't KNOW there was drama until after it happened! But we've since been informed and must comment.

A recent student government election went all underdog and came down to four votes. Now, whether out of apathy or a belief that the heir-apparent would win, most eligible members of the student body didn't vote. This sparked a rampage from the heir-apparent including a HUGE facebook post (including the line, " Unfortunately for the student body, I am certain that next year will speak louder than anyone could right now, so hopefully we can leave it at that") followed by a "de-friending" of many of his former constituents.

John McCain: classy (at least for a while)
Law Students: still have a lot to learn...

Dear Madonna,

You really are a minx. First you don't answer my letters. Then you persist in leaving your leg in the air at Louis Vuitton. Somehow you even made one of the models wear your skirt-that-used-to-be-a-fraggle. But I digress.

You see, I write for a different reason. I am sorry for you that you can't have the child you want. I know you must feel bad--but doesn't it disconcert you slightly that the child actually has a family in the town from which you would like her removed? Does it disconcert you slightly that Malawi seems to rather concerned about rich white ladies with britishy accents absconding with their youth?

I'm not saying that you are being tacky this time, but as ABT recently mentioned, I'm appreciating the awkwardness of this situation and how it would not have developed had you called Angelina and asked her how she so seamlessly obtains children from foreign lands.

Please put your leg down now.

Sincerely,

TP

What did I tell you about hats?

Easter in the South is quite an affair (isn't everything?) which usually involves massive church services, sisters in matching dresses, gloves, bow ties, and of course hats. It's tacky-meets-classy central.

As I got dressed for church myself this past Sunday, I was actually sad that I wasn't back home. Instead, I expected that even though I am Episcopalian (and thus services are fairly traditional) the service would have none of the fanfare in the congregation that I've come to love on fine spring Sunday mornings.

I was SO disappointed I left my camera at home. (But really, had I brought it - I could have blogged on myself)

There, two rows back, on the other side of the aisle was the greatest hat in the history of Easter Sundays. An otherwise simple hat, really, but all around the brim were bright purple daises and then (the piece de resistance if you will) on top was a bird's nest with BRIGHT blue and purple Easter eggs.

Ma'am, you are no Aretha Franklin. Not quite tacky-meets-classy, just tacky.

On a side note, I felt slightly bad for judging while actually IN church. My friend sitting next to me, witnessing my sighting and then subsequent guilt, reminded me that we were APPRECIATING, not judging...