Sins of the Modern Gentleman

The following offences occur often enough to require mention. Most are small. Their effect upon other people is not always small.

Personal cleanliness comes first. Without it, dress and manners are beside the point. Many men leave public lavatories without washing their hands and private bathrooms in a condition they would resent finding.

Washing is neither difficult nor private in its consequences. Other people touch the same handles, sit beside you, and breathe the same air.

The fingernails of the modern man deserve a paragraph of their own, which is more attention than some have given them in the past calendar year. Long nails become a repository for the residue of every surface touched and every absent-minded personal excavation which the owner believes unwitnessed. One notices the nails and draws conclusions about the remainder of the person which, in my experience, are generally reliable.

I am informed that musicians bear some responsibility for the fashion of keeping the nails long. I do not doubt it. I would observe only that a guitarist requires length on one hand, and that the gentleman I encountered last Tuesday at the grocer appeared to require it on all twenty digits, which suggests either a remarkably complex instrument or a remarkably simple attitude toward personal care.

Fragrance fails in two directions. Some men neglect soap and deodorant. Others apply enough cologne to fill the room before speaking. Neither practice is considerate.

Brush the teeth twice daily, clean between them, and see a dentist regularly. Bad breath becomes public at conversational distance.

Dress requires intention, though it need not be formal. Clothes should be clean, fit the wearer, and suit the occasion. "Whatever was nearest" is not a standard.

The emphasis upon comfort is, I confess, the point upon which my patience wears thinnest. Comfort, in the modern vocabulary, appears to mean the total absence of structure, form or any garment which might indicate that the wearer has a skeleton. Trousers which pool at the ankle. Shirts which billow as though designed for a man several sizes larger, or, alternatively, cling as though designed for a man several sizes smaller. Shoes which are, upon close inspection, padded slippers permitted by some failure of judgement to leave the house.

These men have mistaken comfort for collapse. Comfort is a well-made shoe broken in by walking. Comfort is a shirt which sits upon the shoulders as it was cut to sit, neither binding nor billowing, and which permits its wearer to raise his arms, sit at a table, and move through a room without appearing to have been dressed by someone who bore him a grudge. The modern notion of comfort is often the absence of effort, and the absence is visible to everyone except the wearer.

Hair, skin, nails, teeth, clothing, and scent all respond to regular attention. None requires obsession. Neglect is usually more visible than the person responsible for it supposes.

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