This essay explores the idea of how much ambience contributes to a meal -- as important as the main dish.
A host's caution can be charming, but usually it's contagious, like a tangy vinaigrette that's been indiscriminately squirted all over a meal. It makes a guest nervous for the host, unless you're impervious to the mood. (Sometimes I wish I were one of those people -- people who talk loudly and crack their gum and walk around work barefoot -- they must be happy to be so indifferent to everyone around them.)
Fisher calls it them "the inescapable vapors of timidity and insecurity," and I think they manifest themselves most strongly at bridal and baby showers. This may be because nobody ever really wants to go to one of these things, and the nervous hostess must rally the troops anyway. The women choke down frosted cakes and Sugary, Vile Punch (I contributed a Sugary, Vile Punch to the last shower I attended, on mistaken faith in my mom's recipe), but the sweet cannot overcome the sour mood stemming from the need to break into insincere applause every time the guest of honor opens another Diaper Genie.
Still, at that shower, the hostess did a great job because she was in her element -- her natural thoughtfulness, graciousness and good taste didn't make the handmade, pink and baby-blue mints seem pretentious. Yet other friends who would carouse about Westport in our younger days would, upon taking a hostess turn, turn into automotons and hand me a glass of weak sangria and dash off to the kitchen to reheat the mini-quiches. It's not growing up, it's conforming to a vague idea of what a proper hostess will do.
Maybe the difference is the motive of the hostess: Whether she wants everybody to have fun, or whether she wants everybody to approve.
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3 comments:
Nice take on this, cl. I think I have not been to enough dinner parties to have much input. I agree, though, that the host sets the tone for the gathering, and if he or she is overly concerned about everything being perfect, the evening is bound to fail.
You all may have noticed that I am often blind to social conventions, especially the more obvious ones. When I am at someone's house with a large number of people, I often don't even recognize that the host is different than anyone else. I'm the sort of moron who would go up to the host and whisper complaints about the food, oblivious to the fact that they were responsible for it.
In other words, I have no comment on this, because I would never notice that a host was cautious. At social gatherings, I'm too busy trying to keep my foot out of my mouth (or trying to pry it out of my mouth once it's lodged there) to notice what anyone else is doing.
And I know what you mean about being happy to be indifferent, cl. I used to be indifferent -- back then I enjoyed social gatherings; now I'm aware of what I'm doing to the people around me, but usually only after I've done it. So I have the worst of both worlds -- I annoy those around me and I hate myself for it. So now I hate any type of social gathering.
I am remiss in adding that I am a cautious host, myself.
Ben, you shouldn't feel uncomfortable like that. Your friends shouldn't find you annoying.
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