Men and Manners: Essays, Advice and Considerations

by David Coggins

It’s easy to obsess over details, but it can be clarifying to pull back and ask one question above all: Do you try to make the lives of people around you easier?

Too often we’ve convinced ourselves that to get ahead we need to take advantage of every angle. But witnessing bad behavior—in person, on television, in politics—does not excuse your own. Rather, each of us should strive to be the exception. The world may seem crazy, but that’s all the more reason to be the patient, well-dressed man on the plane who doesn’t throw elbows trying to get to the overhead bin.

In the course of my ongoing education, I’ve discovered that Japan is a good place to repeatedly make a fool of yourself and I’ve done so. It is possible to use the wrong chopsticks, particularly if they’re for condiments that you’ve mistaken for an appetizer. (“This is a . . . strong taste.”)

Gentlemen: It starts with each of us. Let’s ask more of ourselves as men. Let’s live our lives fully; let’s show respect; let’s drink a martini, possibly at lunch. Let’s keep our perspective, take the long view and remember that how we treat others ultimately defines ourselves. Above all, act with dignity and a smile.

You tip because that’s how somebody makes their living. You don’t do it to prove something even though it certainly communicates something. You want to show that you are sympathetic to a bartender. Maybe a few dollars for a first drink and one for each drink after that (if it’s a low-key place). If it’s a more elevated setting then 20% remains a good guideline. You’re not paying for just the drink but for the time you’re spending there. If I’m in any setting where I sit at a table I will never tip less than five dollars (as in a diner, where the meal may be cheap).

So be the man who helps a hard worker have a good day. And, as the great historian David McCullough says when advising young people (after stressing the importance of reading and having a sense of history and civic duty): leave a little cash in the hotel room for the maid.

The most basic rule about parties is simple: Don’t arrive empty-handed or be the last to leave. Even when your host tells you to bring nothing, still bring something. And unless you’re on the cleanup committee don’t be the last man standing, draining the final inch of Scotch, turning on a Smiths playlist and interpretive dancing to “This Charming Man.”

Think beyond the default wine. My dad (who has enjoyed a few bottles in his day) recommends whites from Menetou-Salon, an area in the South of France near Sancerre.

A book about Axel Vervoordt is ideal for an interior design obsessive—they’re all nice but Timeless Interiors is particularly sweet.

Champagne is a foolproof gift. But try a bottle that’s not one of the usual suspects. Deutz is great. André Clouet or Louis Roederer are still smart standbys. I like any blanc de blancs, which will be on the dry side, like Ruinart (which isn’t hard to find) or Delamotte. And a secret of New York is that Sherry-Lehmann Wine & Spirits, the blue-chip wine merchant on Park Avenue, deals in so much champagne that their prices are usually the best in the city.

I would much rather somebody be late to meet me than to be late myself. Generally I try to meet in a place where I can read or write or drink, so waiting is not bad. In fact, a friend who is a well-known writer always waits for me when I arrive. I’d come early and he would be there. I’d come radically early and he would calmly be sitting there. I found out later that he liked writing in that time when he felt the peculiar anticipation when he never knew how long he had. Good advice.

Open kitchen? Swing by for a quick “well done” for the team behind the stoves. Their heads may be down and engrossed in their work, but an appreciative attaboy from their customers means more than you will ever know.

How we choose to be in private says a lot about us. For starters: Let it not be in a state of sloth. There may have been a time when it was vaguely charming to have a messy room—that time is behind you.

Yes

I’m always fascinated by old photos of men in dressing gowns, which seem like the most formal way of relaxing. A big cardigan will do for me. I respond to a man who has a comfortable chair, maybe even a beloved blanket, and a stack of Paris Reviews he’s been meaning to read for about five years.

It’s not hard to wear a sportcoat (blue and unstructured, if you want a starting point), and you should find an equation that makes sense for your figure, your salary and your position in life.

Let’s take a moment to praise that sartorial war-horse: the blue sportcoat. If you want one thing in your closet to wear to make a good impression then get a blue, unstructured sportcoat. Boglioli makes a good one, as does Drake’s. You can always get one at Ralph Lauren. If you’re ever in Italy or London it seems like they sell them on every corner. One day we can talk about tweed, herringbone, double-breasted and the rest. But this is your first jacket, your counted on friend. Like your go-to whisky, it can be counted on in every occasion. Wear it with an oxford shirt (feel free to keep the collar buttons undone). Wear it with a dress shirt and a tie and gray flannel trousers. Wear it with dark jeans, a polo shirt and R. M. Williams “Gardener” boots. This jacket should be in good shape, ready to go at any time.

Dressing well involves self-knowledge and an understanding of how you fit into the world.

For everybody else, there’s a point when you realize what you need for your professional life and personal life. Are you committed to jeans made with Japanese denim that has a documented pedigree? Great. Do you save up for Alden boots? Well done. I love seeing men who have something nice and wear the hell out of it. Invest, keep, repair!

So please get those shoes resoled, patch the elbows of your tweed jacket and wear your clothes deep into their thriving middle age. Make people associate you with a great jacket, a hat, even a cologne. Yes, when your life, livelihood and sense of style align, it’s a powerful place to be. And please, please let that uniform aim higher than a hoodie.

But let’s be clear: Men look good in tuxedos. But for anybody to look good they need a sense of comfort and proportion. That’s not going to happen in a rental. There are few hard rules in this book—but not renting a tuxedo is about as close to etched in stone as you can get. (While we’re at it: A true martini is made with gin, not too dry, stirred impossibly cold in a small glass and served with a twist of lemon. I thought I would sneak that in.)

If you don’t think men are flattered in a tuxedo then look at photos of any American icon: Bogart, Newman, Astaire, McQueen, Sinatra. Black tie, served neat, flatters any man. To fear black tie is to fear being classy.

A man who owns a tuxedo is confident when an invitation arrives. He is ready for the challenge. He knows that he can drink champagne or bad beer, make a toast or push his chips in and bet it all on black. He’s the man of the hour, any hour of the night and day.

There’s been a proliferation of the unwelcome view that if you dress in a sloppy way then you are somehow more authentic. This exists the closer you get to Silicon Valley and is meant to convey that you have more important matters to think about than dressing well. All it implies, in fact, is that you are authentically sloppy. Does not having good table manners make you more authentic? Does not bathing make you most authentic of all? Of course not. You chew with your mouth closed, shower every day and never wear a hoodie to work. In any case, moving up in the world is a chance to expand your sartorial horizons. This does not mean you have to shed a uniform. Go to a tailor and tell him you’d like his finest blue suit (they’re not all created equal!) or that you’re looking for a white shirt meant to be worn sans tie (the stiffness and shape of the collar is different on a shirt that is buttoned up all the way and one that is not).

I gather you like to exercise—that’s fine. But your workout clothes belong in the gym. They do not belong on the way to the gym. They do not belong on the way back from the gym. You may disagree with this in principle, but remember, as you set off down the street in sweatpants, that you might run into your ex-girlfriend, your future girlfriend, your potential employer. Or journalist Gay Talese, a man so formal, he scolded me for not wearing a suitcoat in my official author photo—a tie was not enough.

Perhaps I’m not made for this time—but I believe a well-dressed man is still a welcome sight to the eyes of men and women alike. Put on a jacket, look smarter than you have to. Start your own corporate culture that looks good when it goes public.

striving for the best is part of the process.

“The reluctance of American men to wear a sportcoat or blazer annoys me. I’m a huge fan of evolving dress codes—I wear classic sneakers with suits regularly—but a jacket is something men should generally include in their dress. Going to dinner, getting on a plane, walking around a city on vacation: Put on a jacket. It’s always better to err on the side of looking a little more polished than a little too casual, and good tailoring should be the most comfortable thing you wear.” —Chris Mitchell

We are haunted by unread messages, phone vibrations, endless notifications. I get nervous seeing friends’ phones with thousands of unread messages. Those red numbers are menacing reminders of an inefficient life.

I may not understand the technology but I think that some things have proven the test of time, which is that when it comes to undressing, it’s good to have something to look forward to without all the secrets told ahead of time. Your au naturale photo may be the ultimate spoiler alert.

Punctuation is about communication. The same way we notice if somebody is articulate in her speech or in his dress, we notice how they punctuate their emails and texts; a sign of a well-edited mind. Perhaps even more than that. If your punctuation is sloppy, what else in your life is too? Do you keep your dishes in your sink for days on end? Is your bedroom floor littered with dirty clothes? Do you have five thousand emails marked as unread? Is just reading this list making you nervous?

I’ve always loved the handwriting of anybody I’ve dated. I think Geoff Dyer wrote in a novel, “love a girl and love her handwriting.” Mine, as a left-handed person, is quite difficult. Mostly caps, which is not at all elegant, and I believe a sign, according to people who analyze these things, of a desire for control. That makes sense, I’m afraid. So I’ve sought pens that are easier for left-handed people to write with. But the aspiration is key. In prose and in public, it’s good to care about the mark you leave.

My feeling about social media is that Instagram and Facebook should be sources of pleasure. Use them in ways that suit you, but also know people will be aware of how you use them. Social media is a way we present ourselves to the world. Like dressing, it’s not the most important thing, but it does imply how you see yourself.

It’s as if we have to learn to make time again. This is another skill. Set up a standing breakfast date you have with a friend, or an annual fishing trip, or have lunch at “21” every few months. I believe in making rituals. If you’re lucky, you inherit some, but you’ll have to inspire others. So start something. Go to Opening Day, the Village Vanguard, go to the Cloisters. Today can be an occasion. One day you won’t remember your life without it.

There’s no worse way to enter a restaurant than on a phone.

Being good with names is a question of effort, not memory.

Every handwritten note is appreciated.

Women will judge your sheets, towels and furniture. And rightly so.

You have to start cooking sometime. Mark Bittman’s recipes from his Minimalist column are a great place to start. (They’re all on the New York Times website.)

It’s not that hard: Travel in a sportcoat, with not too much baggage, and smile. This formulation is easy to master and will endear you to flight attendants, gate check staff and your fellow travelers.

“Standing up when a woman leaves the table, enters a room. Outside of period-piece films, I rarely ever see men do this, but then it happens, I think, ‘Wait, is this still important? And how have I not been doing this my entire life?’” —Jonathan Baker I personally stand when it’s a nice restaurant. It’s an old-fashioned habit I still enjoy. —DC

“My favorite bit of social advice my dad ever gave me was to know when an argument wasn’t worth it. Or, as he put it: ‘Sometimes you have to choose between being right and being happy.’ I’m fairly certain this was specifically meant as a warning about arguing with the women you love.” —Natty Adams