The bride-to-be was gaunt and pale, with a beak-like nose and dark hair reminiscent of a wet poodle. She told anyone whom she could ensnare in conversation that she was magnificent.

One Naples man, who agreed, proposed. He was a dumpy diabetic in his 60s—some 20 years her senior—sloppy in manner and attire. And rich. He believed it was he who’d hit the jackpot. So he did not apparently mind when his fiancée praised herself and criticized him.

On the couple’s wedding day, as the bride walked down a marble staircase in a renowned cultural institution here, the accompanying tune was not Wagner’s Bridal Chorus or Mendelssohn’s Wedding March or some comparable nuptial song. It was, rather, Beauty and the Beast.
Guests were aghast.

Poor taste or etiquette gaffe?

Suzanne Willis, who runs the Naples etiquette school Mimi’s Manners, votes the latter.
"The song might be romantic, but it could be interpreted as hurtful," she says. "The point of etiquette is not to make yourself look good but to make others around you feel comfortable."
Wherever there are rules, there are rule breakers, and the punishments are usually quantifiable: a ticket for speeding, a fine for littering.

The rules of etiquette are different. Though a breach probably won’t land you in court or cost you money, it could end up on your permanent record. When the etiquette police are on patrol, noncompliance becomes the stuff of golf-course gossip and charity-event chatter, sometimes for years. And oh, how it tickles us to hear the tales!

For instance, a major celebrity flew in from New York to attend the Naples Winter Wine Festival and then complained that he didn’t like wine. When he attended a vintner dinner, where world-class wines were served, he ordered a cocktail.

Willis says that even well-mannered children know better. "I teach the kids about a ‘No, thank you,’ bite. They have to try something when they’re offered it, even if they don’t like it or think they won’t like it."

n the topic of dining, local etiquette instructor Bernadette Watkins has come to expect that most adults can’t navigate a complicated table setting. What surprises her is when they can’t navigate a simple one.

"A big faux pas I see at charity events, and among the parents [of the children I teach], is not knowing where to pick up the proper fork or the proper knife," says Watkins, who runs the children’s etiquette school Miss Broadwell’s of Naples. "People are constantly eating my salad and eating my bread."

(In case your salad is swiped, the proper course of action is to request a new one from the server. Reaching for your neighbor’s food, Watkins says, is inappropriate.)

Some dinner party gaffes begin long before dinner is served, even hours before, as one young lady learned. She was new to Southwest Florida and hoped to ingratiate herself with several peers by hosting an intimate dinner party on a Saturday night. She spent the preceding weekdays unpacking the last of her unsightly brown moving boxes, scrubbing the lanai and decorating—a photograph here, a lithograph there—until her rented digs looked like a home she was proud to showcase.

The morning of the dinner party, the young lady woke early to de-wrinkle her new tablecloth, still creased from the store packaging, and to prep the multi-course meal. She was munching on a sun-dried tomato when the phone rang.

It was one of her guests, calling to say that the group of invitees had stayed out late the night before, and were all far too hung over to attend her dinner party. The caller then asked if the young lady would bring the meal to them.

It’s evidence, Willis says, that we live in "a big ‘me’ society: ‘I’m more important. [I’ll do] what makes me feel good.’" She cites other examples, from BlackBerry use during conversations, to text messages in lieu of thank-you notes, to ignoring RSVP requests.

"In my grandmother’s day, when my grandmother was my age, if somebody invited her over for tea sandwiches, she wasn’t like, ‘Let me get back to you,’" Willis says. "If you got an invitation you’d respond immediately"—and follow through.

If there is a social epidemic of self-centeredness, it takes many forms. One is the idea that at the higher reaches of status or success, individuals can take liberties with good manners.
n the former home of gianni Versace, now an exclusive hotel on Miami Beach, two Southwest Florida companies co-hosted a holiday party. One was a Fort Myers title company headed by a middle-aged woman whose cleavage is part of her firm’s professional image. The other company, specializing in real estate investments, is run by a man in his mid-20s.

Her audacity plus his youth equaled zero regrets about asking colleagues to drive more than two hours for the occasion. But the night was memorable indeed, and for a reason other than the extravagant location. The young man had walked up to the deejay booth, taken the mic and given a toast in which he declared, to an audience of approximately 100 guests, that his co-hosts "really put the tit in title."

More seasoned professionals in the community aren’t necessarily the wiser at their respective events.

During one fundraiser at a posh Naples resort, a prominent man got drunk and began insulting various guests who were sitting at a distance. A busybody in his proximity, however, began informing those guests precisely what nasty things he’d said. Soon the party degenerated into a soap opera, complete with trembling lips and macho rage. And the hosts—who differed in opinion about how to handle Mr. Big—grew so furious with one another that they had to take their conversation outside.

Other social missteps are about context. Dancing on tables is practically encouraged in your 20s, less so in your 30s. And it’s unacceptable when you’re the 40-something wife of a hotel executive, sashaying on a table in his hotel’s lounge during a black-tie affair.

Sometimes alcohol plays a role. A charity-gala sponsor certainly seemed affected when she sat on the lap of a gentleman whom she hardly knew and threw her arms around his neck, oblivious to his wife sitting next to him.

Surely formal events in decades past had their share of etiquette gaffes; somewhere, a man must have forgotten to stand up when a woman entered the room, or worse, spoken to her with a cigarette in his mouth. Vulgarity and egregiousness, however, belong to the modern follies.

One local woman, who thought she was helping a terminally ill child, found out that the illness was merely life-threatening and blurted, "What do you mean he’s not dying?"

During a fundraiser at an upscale private residence, the hostess was hounding the caterers instead of greeting her guests. She grew more hysterical with each fault she found and finally snapped when she saw half-full wine glasses in guests’ hands. She screamed for some time at the caterers, then retired to her room for the evening.

At a charity gala at a Fort Myers resort, guests piled their dessert plates with mountains of gourmet chocolates, then stole off to their rooms to stash the treats. At another party, one guest nabbed the upscale favors from other guests’ place settings.

espite the seeming decline in public decorum, Willis and Watkins sense a growing desire for formality, if not gentility, in Southwest Florida. They even say strictly enforced conduct could make a comeback.

There is some evidence to support the claim, too. One Naples resident, a charming Briton in middle age, says she recently encountered such strictness in the exclusive country-club community where a friend of her family is a member.

The woman had been invited to have brunch at the club. Though it would be her first visit, she knew it was lovely and dressed accordingly in a nice top and skirt. When she arrived, a stern, gray-haired hostess looked her over with disapproving eyes.

"What fabric is your skirt?" asked the hostess, who was wearing a bulky navy blue blazer and dark gray skirt on this summer morning.

"Denim," the Brit replied.

Denim, the hostess said, was not allowed at the club, but appropriate clothing could be bought at the nearby gift shop. Otherwise, she’d have to dine elsewhere.

"Good for her!" Watkins says of the hostess. "Once someone breaks the rules, you’ve got every Tom, Dick and Harry in [the club]. Right after you let her in with that skirt, then you’ve got a ridiculous man or lady coming in with short [denim] shorts, or blue jeans and muscle shirts."
Willis, too, lauds the hostess.

"Even though the hostess might not have been dressed to the nines and didn’t look as good as the woman dressed in her denim, there are rules. If you don’t follow them for all guests, a gentleman could walk in with cutoff jeans and say, well, she’s in denim and I’m in denim."

Willis adds that the situation should have been handled more delicately: The hostess should have been more complimentary of the guest’s outfit and more apologetic about having to turn her away.
The woman in denim had a different idea of how to handle the situation.

"Well," she said to the dowdy sentry, "I’ll just take off my skirt."