One of my favorite things about reading is that you never quite know what a book is going to give you.

Sometimes it introduces you to an entirely new subject. Sometimes it takes you somewhere you’ve never been. And sometimes, as happened to me more than once this month, it takes you somewhere you know very well.

My August reading included Positano, Nantucket, Wellesley, New York City law firms, celebrity hairstyling, a little time travel, and more than one story about what happens when life doesn’t go according to plan.

It also reinforced one of the reasons I love talking about books in the first place. You don’t have to have read the same book as someone else for it to lead somewhere interesting. A novel set in Italy can turn into a conversation about a favorite trip. A story about lifelong friends can make you think about the different eras of your own life. A memoir about hair can lead to a surprisingly thoughtful discussion about confidence.

That’s the idea behind my monthly Dinner Party Test. Rather than assigning stars or attempting to be a proper book critic, I ask three questions:

Would I bring it up at a dinner party?
Would I recommend it to a friend?
Did it change how I think?

Here’s what passed the test in August.

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Photo courtesy of Vogue

When Dolly Parton passed away on August 25, the internet did something it almost never does: it seemed to agree on someone.

The tributes came from country singers and pop stars, politicians and preachers, people who shared Dolly’s faith and people who didn’t. Again and again, people described her as kind, gracious, funny, hardworking, and extraordinarily professional.

It struck me because Dolly Parton was not someone without standards. Quite the opposite. She seemed to know exactly what she would and would not do. She was famously hardworking. She respected other people’s time. She had boundaries around the language she would use, the questions she would answer, and the parts of her personal life she was willing to make public.

And yet, she managed to hold those boundaries without developing a reputation for being judgmental, difficult, or self-righteous.

There is an etiquette lesson in that.

Your standards are primarily for you

In 2025, when Sabrina Carpenter asked Dolly to join her on a remix of “Please Please Please,” Dolly agreed with one condition: she wasn’t going to swear.

She later recalled telling Carpenter, “I don’t cuss. I don’t make fun of Jesus. I don’t talk bad about God.” Carpenter adjusted the lyrics, and Dolly joined the song.

What I love about the story is how little drama there was around it. Dolly didn’t ask Sabrina Carpenter to adopt her standards. She simply made clear what she would and would not do herself.

There is an important difference between saying, “I don’t do that,” and “You shouldn’t do that.”

Having standards does not require making everyone else live by them.

You don’t owe everyone your opinion

Dolly was also widely regarded as kind, polite, and deeply respectful of other people. But that respect did not seem to depend on agreement, nor did it require her to disclose every belief, opinion, or personal experience simply because many people, fans included, wanted to know.

She had clear personal standards, but she was selective about which opinions she made public. Whether she was being asked to weigh in on a certain Access Hollywood tape, reveal how she voted, or clarify which of her famous physical attributes were God-given and which represented a personal investment, Dolly seemed to understand that being asked a question did not create an obligation to answer it.

She became particularly adept at this when the questions turned political. Rather than scolding the person asking or pretending she didn’t have opinions, she consistently declined to tell her audience how to think or vote. She explained more than once that she had fans on both sides and wanted to respect them.

There is something especially useful about that example now. We live in a time when we’re encouraged to have a take on nearly everything, share it immediately, and occasionally explain why everyone else should have arrived at the same conclusion.

Dolly offered another option.

You can have an opinion without sharing it. You can have a standard without imposing it. And you can decline a question without making the person who asked it regret speaking to you in the first place.

We sometimes confuse openness with warmth, agreement with respect, and having a boundary with passing judgment. Dolly managed to separate all three.

She didn’t have to tell you everything she thought in order to treat you well.

Being kind doesn’t mean being a pushover

Dolly’s kindness also never seemed to come at the expense of her expectations for herself.

She built an extraordinary body of work over more than six decades. She wrote thousands of songs, built businesses, starred in movies, toured the world, and created a philanthropic legacy that includes giving hundreds of millions of books to children through her Imagination Library.

None of that happens accidentally.

People who worked with Dolly routinely described someone who was prepared, professional, and respectful of other people’s time. I particularly love the punctuality. Being on time is one of those courtesies that isn’t especially glamorous, which may be precisely why it tells you so much about someone.

It communicates: I knew you were waiting for me. I planned accordingly. Your schedule matters, too.

You can take your work seriously without taking yourself too seriously

For someone with such exacting standards, Dolly also always seemed to be in on the joke.

She spent decades making jokes about her hair, her clothes, her cosmetic procedures, and the deliberately over-the-top image she created for herself. She famously explained that she modeled her look after a woman in her hometown whom everyone else considered “trash.”

There is tremendous confidence in being able to laugh at yourself without diminishing yourself. Dolly clearly took her work seriously. She just didn’t seem to require everyone else to take her quite so seriously.

Perhaps that was part of the magic.

In the days since Dolly died, I’ve been struck by how many very different people seem to feel that they lost someone who represented something good. Maybe part of the reason is that she understood a distinction we could all stand to remember: the standards we set for ourselves do not have to become judgments we make about other people.

You can have boundaries and remain warm. You can keep something private without becoming closed off. You can know exactly what you will and won’t do without requiring anyone else to make the same choices.

Dolly spent decades showing us that high standards and kindness were never opposites.

It’s one of the many things about her worth remembering.

Answering for a Friend

Q: If a friend insists on paying for dinner, how many times am I supposed to protest?

A: You do not need to turn paying the bill into a competitive sport.

If a friend offers to treat you and you weren’t expecting it, it’s perfectly polite to offer to pay your share. If they insist, you can make one more sincere offer, but after that, let them.

Repeatedly fighting over the check can turn a generous gesture into an awkward one. At some point, graciously accepting is the more polite choice.

Say thank you, mean it, and look for an opportunity to reciprocate in a way that makes sense. Maybe you pick up dinner next time, you cover the cost of an activity together, or invite them over.

The goal isn’t to make sure every friendship reaches a perfectly even balance sheet. It’s to notice generosity, appreciate it, and return it when you can.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

There’s something about September that has a very different cadence to it than summer.

Whether you or your family are in your back-to-school era or heading back to Bible study, book club, regular work hours, school events, volunteer meetings, or whatever else makes the fall feel booked and busy, September tends to bring us back into the world a little bit.

The out-of-office replies start disappearing. Summer Fridays come to an end. Meetings return to the calendar. Weekends that revolved around travel are replaced by dinners, fundraisers, conferences, school functions, sports practices, and all the other things we somehow agreed to do this fall.

And after a summer when many of us spent most of our social time with people we already know and like, we’re suddenly going to be doing considerably more talking to acquaintances, colleagues, other parents, friends of friends, and complete strangers.

Consider this your small talk refresher.

It’s how strangers become acquaintances, how new colleagues begin to feel comfortable around each other, and how you figure out whether the person standing next to you at a cocktail party also happens to love the same obscure book, vacation spot, restaurant, sport, or artist that you do.

But like most social skills, it gets easier when you use it regularly. If yours feel a little rusty after summer, here are a few ideas worth remembering.

Have something to talk about before you arrive

One of the easiest ways to become better at conversation is to stop expecting yourself to invent it entirely on the spot.

I had a hilarious law professor who I wrongly assumed shared original material with each of his classes. When I got access to old lectures in preparation for exams, I realized his classes were more of a collection of well-timed greatest hits. He shared the same stories, the same jokes, and the same perfectly delivered lines, and I don’t blame him! It’s no wonder he also has a flourishing career as a legal contributor on TV.

Similarly, before walking into an event, have two or three things in mind that you would genuinely enjoy discussing. A book you just finished. A trip you took this summer. A restaurant you loved. Something interesting happening in your city. A television show you’re watching. A funny, noncontroversial story you recently read.

You’re not preparing a script. You’re simply giving yourself somewhere to go when someone inevitably asks, “What’s new?”

And while we’re here: “Nothing much” is almost never the most helpful answer.

Give people something they can work with.

Ask questions you would actually want to answer

Below are a few of my favorite questions because they are specific enough without feeling like a deposition or a quiz with just one right answer.

“What was the best thing you did this summer?”

“Have you read anything good lately?”

“Do you have anything you’re looking forward to this fall?”

“How do you know the host?”

“What have you been working on lately?”

The goal isn’t to have a collection of clever questions memorized. It’s to ask something you’re actually interested in hearing the answer to.

People can usually tell the difference.

Don’t make someone carry the entire conversation

Being a good conversationalist does not mean conducting an interview.

If you ask someone where they went this summer and they tell you about Maine, you can certainly ask a follow-up question. But you can also offer something about yourself.

“I love Maine. We used to go when I was younger.”

“I’ve never been, but it’s been on my list forever.”

“I was just talking to someone about how beautiful it is there in September.”

Good conversation has some back-and-forth to it. Ask. Listen. Offer. Repeat.

Listen for the thing you can ask about next

People give us conversational openings constantly.

They mention that their daughter just started college. They tell you they recently moved. They say they’re training for a marathon, starting a new job, renovating their kitchen, or heading to Italy next month.

You don’t need to come up with an entirely new subject. Pick up the thread they just handed you.

“How is she liking college?”

“What made you choose that neighborhood?”

“Is this your first marathon?”

“Where in Italy are you going?”

The best conversationalists aren’t necessarily the people with the most interesting stories. Often, they’re simply the people who are paying attention.

Remember that not every silence needs to be rescued

A few seconds of quiet can feel much longer when you’re standing with someone you’ve just met.

It’s also worth knowing that speaking more slowly and pausing before you answer a question often comes across as more thoughtful. We may feel awkward in the moment, but others are more likely to perceive your pause more positively or not notice at all.

Put your phone away

This one may be the hardest after summer.

When you’re standing alone at an event, your phone offers the world’s easiest escape hatch. You can suddenly become extremely interested in an email you had no intention of answering until tomorrow.

Try not to.

Looking around the room, making eye contact, smiling at someone nearby, or simply standing there without appearing occupied makes it so much easier for someone to approach you.

And sometimes being approachable is half the work.

Don’t underestimate the obvious

You don’t need a dazzling opening line.

Talk about the room. The food. How you know the host. The speaker you just heard. The neighborhood. The event. The beautiful flowers sitting three feet away from both of you.

We sometimes make small talk harder because we’re trying so desperately not to sound like we’re making small talk.

Your job is not to be fascinating

This may be the most important refresher of all.

When people feel nervous socially, they tend to focus inward: What should I say? Do I sound interesting? Was that awkward? What does this person think of me?

Try replacing some of those questions with a different one:

How can I make this person feel more comfortable?

Small talk gets much easier when you stop treating it like a performance.

A little social homework

Sometime in the next few weeks, you’re probably going to walk into a room where you don’t know everyone.

Before you do, put your phone away. Think of three things you’d be happy to talk about and three things you’d genuinely like to ask someone else.

Then go say hello first.

Your social muscles will remember what to do.

Answering for a Friend

Q: I started a small interior design business a few years ago that has since grown into my full-time job. When I was catching up with an acquaintance recently, she asked about it and then said, “Do you actually make money doing that?” I think she was genuinely curious and not trying to be rude, but I had no idea how to answer. I didn’t want to discuss my income, but I also didn’t want to make it sound like my business is just a hobby. What would you have said?

A: You can correct the assumption without answering the question.

I’d probably smile and say something like, “I do it full time now, and I’ve been really fortunate with how much the business has grown.” Then I’d move the conversation toward something I’m comfortable discussing: a recent project, a new employee, an exciting client, or what I enjoy most about the work.

You don’t owe anyone an income statement simply because they asked, but you also don’t need to pretend you aren’t proud of building a successful business in an effort to make the other person feel comfortable.

I’d also give your acquaintance a little grace. “Do you actually make money doing that?” is certainly more direct than I would recommend, but she may have been genuinely curious about how an interior design business works rather than trying to diminish what you’ve accomplished.

For the rest of us, this is a good reminder that curiosity doesn’t entitle us to someone else’s financial information. If you’re interested in a friend’s unconventional or entrepreneurial career, try: “How has the business changed since you started?” You’ll probably learn more anyway.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

I just finished Elin Hilderbrand’s The Five-Star Weekend, and there’s a moment in the novel that made me smile because it captures a host-gift anxiety I hear about all the time.

One of the characters arrives at her friend’s home on Nantucket with an Ocean Breeze-scented candle she had found on sale at a home décor discount store. Once she sees the house—and the gifts the other guests have brought—she immediately regrets her choice and worries that her candle isn’t quite nice enough.

A thoughtful gesture of thanks can quickly become a source of second-guessing.

Around this time of year, I often hear from people headed to family reunions, end-of-summer house parties, lake or beach weekends, and overnight stays with friends who are wondering what to give their generous hosts who seem to have everything.

Maybe you’re going to the home of someone who entertains beautifully. Maybe they have exquisite taste. Maybe they’re considerably more affluent than you are. Or maybe they simply seem to already own every candle, vase, serving piece, and coffee-table book you could possibly think to give them.

It can make an otherwise simple gesture feel surprisingly intimidating.

But the question becomes much easier when we remember what a host gift is actually meant to accomplish.

A host gift is, quite simply, a gesture of gratitude.

Someone has opened their home to you. They may have cleaned, cooked, grocery shopped, changed sheets, arranged flowers, made reservations, planned activities, or simply given up a quiet evening at home because they wanted to spend it with you.

The gift acknowledges that effort.

When should you bring a host gift?

Not every invitation requires one.

If your best friend asks you to come over on a Tuesday night and eat takeout on the sofa, you do not need to arrive with a wrapped present. If you and another couple regularly rotate casual dinners at one another’s homes, bringing a formal host gift every single time can quickly become unnecessary.

But for a more traditional dinner party, a special occasion in someone’s home, the first time someone hosts you, or an invitation from someone you don’t know particularly well, a small host gift is a lovely gesture.

And if you are staying overnight, I would almost always bring or send something.

The longer and more involved the hospitality, the more thoughtful the acknowledgment should be. There is a difference between someone pouring you a glass of iced tea for an hour and someone washing sheets, stocking a guest bathroom, making breakfast, and giving you their guest room for three nights.

That doesn’t necessarily mean the gift needs to be dramatically more expensive. It means the gesture should feel commensurate with the hospitality.

What if they tell you not to bring anything?

This is where people sometimes confuse bringing something for the meal with bringing something for the host.

When a host says, “Don’t bring anything,” take them at their word. Don’t show up with an appetizer that needs to be heated, a salad that requires refrigerator space, or a dessert they now feel obligated to serve.

They have planned the menu. Let them host.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t arrive with a small gift that requires absolutely nothing from them.

The important distinction is that a host gift is not a contribution to the evening. It belongs to the host. They can enjoy it tomorrow, next week, or whenever they please.

The best host gifts don’t create work

This is one of my favorite rules for choosing what to bring: your gift should not become another item on your host’s to-do list.

Flowers are lovely, but ideally they should arrive already arranged or in a vessel the host can simply set down. A food gift shouldn’t come with instructions that require immediate refrigeration, plating, or preparation. And unless you’ve specifically coordinated it, don’t arrive with something you expect to be served that evening.

A bottle of wine, for example, is a gift—not a request.

If your host opens it that night, wonderful. If they put it away to enjoy another time, equally wonderful. Once you give something, let it go.

What about the host who really does have everything?

This is where people tend to overthink.

If someone has more financial resources than you do, resist the temptation to spend beyond what feels appropriate for you. Their income does not determine your host-gift budget.

Trying to compete with the spending power of someone who can afford virtually anything misses the point of the gesture in the first place.

Instead, think about what you know about them.

Do they love gardening? Cooking? Tennis? Travel? Art? Their hometown? Their dog? Is there a wonderful specialty from where you live? Something seasonal they might enjoy? Something you discovered on a recent trip?

Consumable gifts can be particularly useful for people who don’t need more things. Beautiful seasonal fruit, specialty foods, coffee or tea, flowers, candles or home fragrance when you know their taste—all can be thoughtful without becoming permanent additions to someone’s home.

The point isn’t rarity or expense. It’s specificity.

“I saw this and thought of you” will almost always mean more than “I panicked and bought the most expensive thing I could find.”

How much should you spend?

There is no etiquette rule requiring a particular dollar amount.

For most dinner-party host gifts, something modest and thoughtful is perfectly appropriate. You do not need to calculate the approximate cost of your meal and attempt to reimburse your host through a candle.

Hospitality is not a transaction.

An overnight stay may warrant something more substantial, particularly if your hosts have gone to significant effort on your behalf. But again, “more substantial” should be interpreted relative to your own circumstances—not theirs.

A thoughtful gift within your budget, accompanied by genuine gratitude, is always preferable to spending an uncomfortable amount because you feel intimidated by someone’s home or lifestyle.

The gift doesn’t replace the thank-you

This is especially important for overnight guests.

Bringing a beautiful gift when you arrive does not mean you can leave Monday morning without properly thanking your hosts.

Say thank you before you leave. Send a text when you get home. And for meaningful hospitality, I still love a handwritten note.

You can also reciprocate in another way. Invite them to your home. Take them to dinner. Offer to host the next time. Hospitality does not need to be repaid immediately or dollar for dollar, but relationships tend to work best when generosity travels in both directions.

What matters most

I love a beautiful host gift, and I have a list of things I personally give again and again. I’ll share those separately because I think there’s a difference between talking about the etiquette of giving and simply telling you what I like to buy.

But if you’re standing in a store wondering whether the candle is expensive enough for the people whose house you’re about to visit, I hope you’ll remember this:

You are not trying to compensate someone for their hospitality. You are acknowledging it.

The best host gift doesn’t prove how much you spent. It tells someone that you noticed the effort they made, appreciated being included, and didn’t take their hospitality for granted.

And that is something worth bringing, no matter how much—or how little—your host already has.

In Case You Missed It

Atlanta’s Fox 5 recently shared my conversation with Ryanne Saucier on how to navigate funeral etiquette with grace and empathy for yourself and the people you love.

Answering for a Friend

Q: When someone offers you the last piece of something like a shared appetizer or plate of cookies, is it rude to take it? I never know whether I’m supposed to say, “No, you have it,” even when I really do want it.

A: You don’t have to get caught in an endless round of “No, you take it!” But before helping yourself to the last roll, cookie, piece of cake, or anything else that can reasonably be divided, offer to split it.

A simple, “Should we split it?” gives the other person an opportunity to have some without forcing either of you into the familiar ritual of insisting the other person take the whole thing.

If they decline and tell you to enjoy it, believe them and take it. And if the last item can’t reasonably be divided, it’s polite to give the other person one genuine opportunity to have it before you do.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

If you’ve ever hosted a big party, attended a large gathering, or been the bride or groom at a wedding and left feeling guilty that you didn’t talk to everyone enough, you are not alone.

And I’m here to tell you that you probably did nothing wrong.

Large parties are wonderful for bringing people together. They’re a chance to reconnect with old friends, see relatives you don’t see often, and spend time in the same room with people from different parts of your life.

What they’re generally not very good for is deep, one-on-one conversation.

My cousin and I were talking about this after a recent family wedding. There were so many people she had been looking forward to seeing, and afterward, she was lamenting that she hadn’t adequately caught up with everyone.

The more we thought about it, the more we realized: Of course she hadn’t.

A wedding is a wonderful place to reconnect. To hug someone you haven’t seen in a year. To hear that someone moved or changed jobs. To meet a new boyfriend or girlfriend. To dance with your cousins. To tell an old family friend how happy you are to see her.

But it isn’t necessarily a very good place to catch up… at least not with everyone.

The Math Doesn’t Work

Let’s say there are 200 guests at a wedding.

If the bride and groom spent just five minutes talking individually with each guest, they would need 16 hours and 40 minutes.

That’s before exchanging vows, taking photographs, having a first dance, eating dinner, listening to speeches, cutting the cake, dancing, or doing any of the other things we expect a couple to fit into a wedding day.

If the reception venue is booked for five or six hours, the math simply doesn’t work.

The same is true for guests. You may walk into a family wedding and see 30 people you genuinely love and haven’t seen recently. Even ten minutes with each of them would require five hours.

So let’s get over some of the guilt.

Of course, a couple or host should make a reasonable effort to greet and acknowledge everyone. But greeting everyone and having a meaningful conversation with everyone are two very different things.

If there is someone you particularly regret missing, reach out afterward. “I was so happy you were there and feel like I barely got to talk to you. Can we have dinner soon or plan a call?”

That conversation will probably be far more meaningful than the one you could have squeezed in between the cake cutting and the next song.

Be Intentional About the Time You Do Have

Accepting that you can’t catch up with everyone doesn’t mean leaving it entirely to chance.

If you’re attending a wedding weekend with a rehearsal dinner on Friday, the wedding on Saturday, and a farewell brunch on Sunday, be thoughtful about how you spend your time across those events.

If you spent most of the rehearsal dinner talking to your college friends, perhaps brunch is the opportunity to sit with your cousins. If you had a long conversation with one relative during cocktail hour, make a point of seeking out some of the family members you haven’t had a chance to talk to yet.

You don’t need to keep a running tally, but a little awareness can go a long way.

The same principle applies when you’re the bride, groom, or host. Resist the temptation to gravitate toward the same familiar group at every event. Circulate. Mix it up. Look for the people you haven’t had a chance to acknowledge yet.

And at the wedding itself, start with the people right in front of you.

If you conceivably can, make an effort to talk to everyone at your table. An enormous centerpiece or noisy band may make that easier said than done, but within reason, don’t spend the entire meal turned toward the one person you already know best.

Then circulate naturally. Say hello during the cocktail hour. Give a hug on the dance floor. Exchange the abbreviated version of what’s new.

The goal isn’t to give everyone an equal allotment of your attention. It’s simply to notice where your attention has already gone—and where it might go next.

Read the Room

The more I thought about my conversation with my cousin, the more I realized this isn’t really a lesson about weddings.

It’s a lesson about reading the room.

Not every good conversation belongs in every setting. Sometimes the person you would ordinarily love to catch up with is hosting, being pulled in several directions, or simply doesn’t have the opportunity for a longer conversation at that moment.

Relatedly, reading the room also means recognizing that not every subject belongs in every setting.

You may be extremely close to someone and know that she’s going through a terrible breakup. You may know that a friend’s parent has dementia and that he has taken on much of the care. You may have talked about these things extensively before.

That still doesn’t necessarily mean the person wants to discuss it at a table of eight.

Knowing something personal about someone isn’t the same as having permission to make it public.

And sometimes people simply want a night off.

The friend going through a breakup may not want everyone who knows about it greeting her with a sympathetic “How are you really doing?” The person caring for an ailing parent may have been looking forward to getting dressed up, dancing, and talking about absolutely anything else for a few hours.

Let them decide whether tonight is the night to go there.

Sometimes Reading the Room Is Literal

Not every poorly timed conversation involves a sensitive subject. Sometimes the environment is simply wrong.

Is there a band playing ten feet away? Is the person you’re talking to hosting and clearly trying to circulate? Is dinner being served? Are six other people listening? Is the bride being summoned for photographs?

None of those things necessarily means, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

They may simply mean, “This isn’t the moment for this conversation.”

Say, “I want to hear the rest of this when we can actually talk.” Send the text the next morning. Make the dinner reservation. Invite them for coffee.

A two-minute conversation at a wedding isn’t a failed twenty-minute conversation. Sometimes two minutes is exactly right.

Maybe my cousin didn’t fail to catch up with everyone at that wedding after all. She saw people she loves. She hugged them. She laughed with them. She heard a few updates and gave a few of her own. And she left thinking about the people she wanted more time with.

Perhaps that’s exactly what a big gathering can do.

A wedding doesn’t have to contain every conversation. Sometimes it simply reminds us which conversations we want to have next.

In Case You Missed It

This week, Atlanta’s Fox 5 shared my conversation with Ryanne Saucier on how to navigate funeral etiquette with grace and empathy for yourself and the people you love.

Answering for a Friend

Q: My boyfriend’s sister is getting married in Italy, and his family generously invited me to stay with them for the wedding. We haven’t been dating that long, and I’ve only met his family once, so I’m especially touched to be included. I’d love to show my appreciation without overdoing it. Should I offer to pay for dinner one night? Bring everyone coffee or breakfast one morning? I’m also planning to send a handwritten thank-you note afterward. What would you recommend?

A: All of the above sound lovely. And I especially like that you’re thinking about how to show your appreciation rather than trying to calculate how to “repay” their generosity.

During the trip, look for an opportunity to contribute naturally. Offering to take everyone to dinner one evening is a generous gesture, but it doesn’t need to be quite that elaborate. Picking up breakfast, bringing back coffee and pastries one morning, or treating the group to lunch can be just as thoughtful. You can also simply offer and let your hosts guide you. If they insist that dinner is their treat, there’s no need to turn it into a battle over the check.

Then, once you’re home, absolutely send the handwritten note. Thank them specifically for including you, hosting you, and making you feel welcome during such an important family occasion.

The goal isn’t to match their hospitality dollar for dollar. It’s to make sure their generosity doesn’t go unnoticed.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

If you’ve been here for a while, you know I’m a big believer in moving through the world with a few conversation topics you’re happy and ready to discuss.

When you’re meeting new people or catching up with old friends, it’s often wise to begin with subjects that are unlikely to offend or become overly personal right away.

Enter books.

Now, not all books are created equal. Some are certainly controversial. But in general, asking someone what they’ve been reading is one of my favorite conversation starters. It tells us a little about one another, invites people to share what they’ve been enjoying, and often leads to far more interesting conversations than, “So...what do you do?”

At the end of each month, I like to put my reading through what I’ve come to call the Dinner Party Test. Not simply Did I enjoy this book? but Would I bring it up over dinner? Would it spark an interesting conversation? Would I recommend it to the person sitting next to me?

It turned out to be a month of wholesome fiction, thoughtful memoir, and one book I never would have picked up had another author not recommended it—which may be my favorite kind of reading journey.

Here are the four books that made the cut in July.

The Southern Side of Paradise

by Kristy Woodson Harvey

A quick synopsis: A warm, character-driven novel about a Southern family navigating new beginnings, old relationships, and the ties that continue to draw them back together. It’s equal parts romance, family story, and a celebration of the kinds of communities that shape us.

🍽️ Would I bring it up at a dinner party?

Without question.

One of the things I enjoy most about Kristy Woodson Harvey’s novels is the way she writes families. The conversations feel natural, the characters are imperfect in believable ways, and the relationships are compelling enough that you genuinely want to know what happens next.

If you enjoy character-driven fiction with flawed but incredibly likable people, Kristy Woodson Harvey is hard to beat. Her books remind me a bit of Gilmore Girls—quick dialogue, memorable personalities, and a cast of characters you find yourself rooting for almost immediately. As someone who spends so much time thinking about hospitality and etiquette, I also love the little nods to Southern traditions, entertaining, and gracious living woven throughout the story.

💕 Would I recommend it to a friend?

Absolutely. In fact, my mom and I have been reading Kristy Woodson Harvey’s books together this summer, which has made them even more fun. They’re wholesome without feeling predictable, heartfelt without being overly sentimental, and exactly the kind of book I’d pack for a beach trip or recommend to a friend looking for an enjoyable summer read.

✨ Did it change how I think?

I’m not sure it changed how I think so much as it reminded me how grateful I am for my own family. The story centers around the relationships between a mother and her three adult daughters, and by the end I found myself wanting to spend more time with my mom and sister. I always appreciate a book that quietly nudges me toward the people I love most.

The Secret to Southern Charm

by Kristy Woodson Harvey

A quick synopsis: Set in the same charming Southern world, this novel follows another season in the lives of a family learning to navigate love, change, and the unexpected twists that often accompany both. It’s a story about relationships, resilience, and finding your footing when life doesn’t go according to plan.

🍽️ Would I bring it up at a dinner party?

Yes—but probably right after recommending The Southern Side of Paradise.

One of the things I appreciate most about Kristy Woodson Harvey’s books is that they leave me missing the characters long after I’ve finished reading.

There are also thoughtful little moments throughout that caught my attention—observations about Southern hospitality, entertaining, and traditions. As someone who spends so much of her time thinking about etiquette, I always enjoy spotting those details.

💕 Would I recommend it to a friend?

Without hesitation. If you’re looking for a wholesome summer read with great dialogue and characters you’ll genuinely care about, I’d start with Kristy Woodson Harvey’s books. They’d make wonderful book club picks, too. There’s plenty to discuss without the story becoming heavy, and I suspect everyone would have a favorite character by the end.

✨ Did it change how I think?

More than anything, it reminded me why I enjoy fiction in the first place.

I read a lot of nonfiction, but every so often it’s nice to be reminded that a well-written novel can teach us something too—not through arguments or advice, but by inviting us into someone else’s world for a little while. I finished this one feeling entertained, encouraged, and ready to pick up another.

The Courage to Commit

by Shawn Johnson & Andrew East

A quick synopsis: Olympic gold medalist Shawn Johnson and former NFL player Andrew East reflect on marriage, identity, ambition, faith, and the decisions that shape a life together. Through stories from both of their careers and their relationship, they explore what commitment looks like when life doesn’t go according to plan.

🍽️ Would I bring it up at a dinner party?

Absolutely.

One of the things I enjoyed most about this book is how many different people I could imagine connecting with it. Some readers will pick it up because they’re fans of Shawn’s Olympic career or Andrew’s years in the NFL. Others will relate to the conversations about marriage, career transitions, identity, or faith.

The personal stories are what make this book. They naturally lead to conversations about marriage, career, ambition, family, and the unexpected turns life takes. I found myself thinking, Oh, that would make for an interesting discussion over dinner, more than once.

💕 Would I recommend it to a friend?

Yes, and probably to a fairly wide range of people.

Whether someone is engaged, married, navigating a career change, or simply enjoys memoirs that feel honest and practical, I think there’s something worthwhile here. It’s the kind of book that doesn’t pretend to have all the answers but instead invites you to think a little more carefully about your own priorities and commitments.

✨ Did it change how I think?

One of my favorite things about reading is that good books often lead to other good books.

Throughout The Courage to Commit, Shawn and Andrew referenced Living Life Backward by David Gibson. Their recommendation was enthusiastic enough that I immediately ordered a copy, and before long, it had become my next read.

To me, that’s one of the best endorsements a book can receive.

Living Life Backward

by David Gibson

A quick synopsis: Drawing from the book of Ecclesiastes, David Gibson explores what it means to live wisely in light of life’s biggest questions. Rather than offering a step-by-step guide, he invites readers to consider purpose, joy, work, mortality, and how our perspective on the end of life can shape the way we live today.

🍽️ Would I bring it up at a dinner party?

I would—but probably over dessert rather than appetizers.

This isn’t the kind of book I’d recommend to lighten the mood. It’s reflective, thought-provoking, and asks questions that don’t have quick or easy answers. But if the conversation naturally turned toward purpose, faith, or what gives life meaning, I think it could lead to a wonderful discussion.

💕 Would I recommend it to a friend?

Yes, but thoughtfully.

Because the book is centered on Ecclesiastes and written from a Christian perspective, I’d probably recommend it to someone who is already interested in those questions or looking to deepen their faith. Just as I try to be thoughtful about the conversations I start, I also try to be thoughtful about the books I recommend. I don’t think every book is for every reader—and that’s perfectly okay. Part of recommending books well is thinking about who might genuinely appreciate them.

✨ Did it change how I think?

I wouldn’t describe it as a page-turner, but not every worthwhile book is.

What stayed with me wasn’t a particular chapter or quote so much as its central reminder that our lives become clearer when we occasionally step back and look at them from a longer perspective. It’s an encouraging message, and one I’m glad The Courage to Commit introduced me to.

One of the unexpected joys of reading is discovering books you never would have picked up on your own. This was one of those books for me, and I’m grateful it found its way onto my reading list.

Now it’s your turn!

What have you been reading lately? I’d love to know which books would pass your Dinner Party Test.

This weekend, Jason and I are headed to a large annual event hosted by his companies.

As I was thinking about what to wear, who we might see, and all the little logistics that go into an evening like this, I found myself mentally reviewing the habits that make these events feel easier.

Whether you find yourself at events like this often or you’re getting ready for your first family reunion in years, I hope this serves as a helpful refresher.

Arrive Toward the Beginning

If your goal is to meet new people, try to arrive within the first thirty minutes or so after the event begins.

Early in the evening, everyone is still settling in. Conversations are shorter, introductions happen naturally, and people are generally more open to meeting someone new. By the middle of an event, groups have often formed, making it a little harder to break into conversations.

Be an Introducer

Introduce yourself early and often.

And when you notice two people who ought to know each other, make the introduction.

One of the kindest things you can do at a large event is make sure no one has to stand alone for long.

The guest people remember isn’t always the funniest or the most accomplished person in the room. More often, it’s the person who helped everyone else feel welcome.

Make Conversation Easy

One of the easiest ways to feel more confident at a large event is to spend a few minutes beforehand thinking about what you’ve been up to lately.

Your outfit can help. A colorful dress, an interesting pair of earrings, a beautiful tie, or a vintage watch often become natural conversation starters.

But what you wear isn’t the only thing worth preparing.

Think of a few stories you might enjoy sharing. Not because you’re trying to impress anyone, but because good conversation usually begins with someone willing to offer a little of themselves first.

This weekend, I’ll probably share about our recent trip to Italy and France, my sister’s engagement party and upcoming wedding plans, and the Kristy Woodson Harvey books I can’t seem to put down.

None of those topics is especially groundbreaking. They’re simply positive, family-friendly conversations that make it easy for someone else to jump in with a story of their own.

Carry a Drink

Even if you don’t drink alcohol, I recommend having something in your hand. Sparkling water, club soda with lime, or iced tea all work perfectly well.

Think about how much more relaxed people look in photographs when they’re holding a coffee cup. The same is true at a reception. Holding a drink gives your hands something natural to do and helps you appear more at ease.

Keep it in your left hand whenever you’re not taking a sip so your right hand is free for a handshake.

And, of course, know your limit. The purpose of the evening is the people, not the cocktails.

Travel Light

Bring the smallest bag you truly need.

The less you’re carrying, the easier it is to shake hands, accept hors d’oeuvres, and move comfortably through the room.

While we’re talking about comfort, wear shoes that make sense for the event. Will you be standing for three hours? Walking across grass? Climbing stairs? The most elegant guest isn’t necessarily the one wearing the highest heels. It’s the one who’s fully present because they’re not distracted by sore feet.

Stay One Step Ahead

Take a napkin before you need one.

You’ll almost never regret having one when the hors d’oeuvres start making their way around the room.

Eat Gracefully

When hors d’oeuvres are being passed, it’s perfectly acceptable to take one of each item as it comes around. A shrimp cocktail followed by a lamb chop? Absolutely.

What you want to avoid is taking three lamb chops at once.

There’s almost always another tray coming.

Look Up

One habit I notice at almost every large event is people reaching for their phones the moment they find themselves standing alone.

Resist the temptation.

The easiest way to appear approachable is simply to look around the room.

Smile at the person across from you. Introduce yourself. Someone else is probably hoping to meet you, too.

People rarely remember every conversation they had at a large event.

They remember who welcomed them into a conversation.

Who introduced them to someone new.

Who made them feel comfortable.

So smile first. Introduce yourself. Offer an introduction.

Give people something to talk about.

Chances are, what they’ll remember most is how you made them feel.

In Case You Missed It

I recently was live on Fox & Friends to chat about dining etiquette, and also joined The 700 Club live on the Christian Broadcast Network for a feature segment on my book, Was It Something I Said?

You can also get caught up on my Ask Alison column in Evie Magazine here.

Answering for a Friend

Q: How long is too long to stay after a dinner party?

A: There isn’t a universal rule, but a good guideline is to head home about 30 minutes after dessert and coffee have been served. By then, you’ve had plenty of time to enjoy the evening without lingering so long that your hosts begin wondering how to wrap things up. Of course, every gathering is different. If the conversation is still flowing and your hosts are clearly extending the evening, stay and enjoy it. But when in doubt, leaving on the earlier side is almost always remembered more fondly than overstaying your welcome.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

This week, a handmade sign hanging in a Nantucket shop sparked a national conversation.

It read simply: “No Influencers.”

The stories that followed described behavior that would frustrate almost anyone: people walking into small businesses without greeting anyone, immediately setting up cameras, treating beautiful shops like film sets, and leaving without ever acknowledging the people behind the counter.

If that’s what we’re talking about, then I don’t disagree.

It’s rude. It isn’t charming. It isn’t excusable. And it certainly isn’t good etiquette.

Read more

One of my favorite wedding gifts to give is beautiful stationery.

This week, I ordered two sets for my sister, Carolyn, who recently got engaged: one for her personally and one for her and her future husband to use together after they’re married.

Lest I cause mass confusion, yes, traditionally you wait until after the wedding to use your married name or monogram on stationery, but Carolyn and I are two peas in a very Type A pod, and we wanted her to have her new sets before she absolutely needed them.

Years ago, I’d given her stationery she loved, and she wanted the same style again for this new chapter, so the only question was how to personalize them.

I walked her through the traditional etiquette, including the different approaches to monograms and why I recommended having both personal and couple stationery.

Our conversation touched on a few traditions that I thought might be fun and/or helpful to share here:

Wait until after the wedding to use your married stationery. There’s nothing wrong with ordering it ahead of time, but traditionally, you wait until after the wedding to begin using stationery with your married name or monogram.

Personal stationery and couple stationery serve different purposes. Personal stationery is for notes from you alone. Couple stationery belongs to the two of you and can be used by either spouse after you’re married. It’s lovely to have both.

Only one person signs a thank-you note. Before and after the wedding, thank-you notes are signed by the person writing them—not both members of the couple. If you’re thanking someone for an engagement or shower gift, it’s thoughtful to mention your fiancé in the body of the note: “John and I are so grateful for your generosity...”

You don’t have to save every wedding thank-you note for after the honeymoon. If a wedding gift arrives before the wedding, it’s perfectly appropriate to thank the sender as soon as you’ve received it. Many couples find this makes the process far more manageable than trying to write every thank-you note after returning from their honeymoon.

If you’re taking a shared last name, a traditional married monogram places the shared surname in the center, with the woman’s first initial on the left and the man’s first initial on the right. A single family initial is another timeless option.

Carolyn understood all of that.

There was only one place where we disagreed.

She wanted to include her maiden name in parentheses before her married name on her return envelopes. I told her that, to me, parentheses feel a little too conversational for formal, gold-embossed stationery, especially if you’re not legally keeping that name. They may make sense for an email signature, LinkedIn profile, or text message, but I’d lean toward something more traditional for formal stationery.

I said my piece. We still disagreed, and I ordered exactly what she wanted anyway, because it’s ultimately not my stationery.

And I realized that’s exactly what etiquette should look like.

My job wasn’t to convince my sister that my preference was objectively better. It was to explain the traditions, answer her questions with kindness and clarity, and ultimately respect what she wanted.

That’s one of the things I love most about studying etiquette.

Sometimes they’ll choose exactly what tradition recommends. Sometimes they’ll choose something else.

And for the friends and family who will receive the most beautiful stationery with parenthesis on the envelope roughly a year from now, I hope it makes you smile.

In Case You Missed It

I recently was live on Fox & Friends to chat about dining etiquette, and also joined The 700 Club live on the Christian Broadcast Network for a feature segment on my book, Was It Something I Said?

You can also get caught up on my Ask Alison column in Evie Magazine here.

Answering for a Friend

Q: I'm staying overnight soon at the home of friends who are much wealthier than I am. What do you give someone who already seems to have everything?

A: The good news is that hospitality isn’t a gift exchange. You don’t need to spend more because your hosts have more.

The best host gifts aren’t necessarily expensive; they’re thoughtful. Think about what would genuinely bring a little joy to their home or help them enjoy their space after your stay.

A few ideas I love:

• A beautiful coffee table book tailored to one of their interests

• Fresh, organic fruit that’s in season from a local market

• A specialty food or drink they might enjoy

• A beautiful candle or home fragrance

• Fresh flowers

• A gift certificate to a favorite local restaurant or a spa

Most gracious hosts won’t remember what you spent. They’ll remember that you gave something chosen especially for them.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

Earlier this month, I wrote about three different mentors I crossed paths with over the span of a single week. It sparked so many thoughtful conversations that I realized there was another piece to write. This one is less about finding mentors and more about the unwritten etiquette of being mentored.

Read more

For years, I’ve taught that when you’re first getting to know someone, it’s wise to avoid conversations about money, sex, politics, religion, and health.

I still believe that.

Not because those subjects aren’t important. Quite the opposite. They’re some of the most important conversations we’ll ever have. They’re simply not very good icebreakers. When you’re trying to help someone feel welcome and at ease, it’s usually kinder to begin somewhere else.

But somewhere along the way, we've allowed the etiquette of first impressions to become the etiquette of lifelong relationships.

Small talk has a purpose. It’s meant to help strangers become acquaintances. Acquaintances become friends. Friends eventually talk about the things that matter.

Which is why a recent national survey caught my attention.

Ahead of America’s 250th anniversary, researchers found that nearly half of Americans couldn’t identify what the anniversary commemorates. Nearly six in ten couldn’t explain the primary purpose of the Constitution or why the colonies declared independence from Great Britain.

The findings made me pause.

How do we preserve a society that values civic engagement if we become increasingly uncomfortable discussing the very ideas that shape it?

I don’t think the answer is that Americans don’t care. The same survey found that overwhelming majorities are grateful to be Americans, proud of their country, and believe our founding principles still matter today.

Instead, I wonder whether we’ve become so accustomed to avoiding difficult subjects that we’ve lost some of the places where civic learning naturally happens.

Whenever I teach small talk, I recommend avoiding politics and religion at the beginning of a relationship.

But that’s where the advice ends.

Living in Washington has reinforced that lesson for me.

One of the things I’ve grown to appreciate about living in the nation’s capital is that civic life is both unusually visible and unusually respected. It isn’t that people spend their weekends debating legislation. Rather, public service and civic engagement naturally weave themselves into everyday life.

You might recognize your neighbor sitting behind her boss on the dais during a congressional hearing as you’re skimming the morning news. A friend from church posts photos of her children at the White House Easter Egg Roll. Books on a coffee table or artwork hanging in a home quietly reflect a family’s interests and experiences. Someone mentions taking a position in a congressional office, serving in a presidential administration, working for a public interest law firm, or joining an advocacy organization. Even the venue someone chooses for a birthday celebration or wedding reception can be a major giveaway.

None of these moments feels like a political debate.

They’re simply glimpses into people’s lives.

I’ve found that knowing someone’s views isn’t nearly as difficult as never learning how to talk about them.

Of course, schools play an essential role in civic education. They also face an extraordinarily difficult task.

Because education is largely governed by the states, there is no single national standard for teaching civics or American history. Communities disagree about what deserves emphasis, how America’s triumphs and failures should be taught, and how educators ought to respond when students raise questions that quickly become political. Some believe America’s founding in 1776 should remain the central story of our history. Others believe the arrival of enslaved Africans in 1619 and its lasting consequences deserve greater emphasis. These are thoughtful disagreements, and they are not easily resolved.

Which is precisely why schools cannot carry the responsibility alone.

This isn’t a new challenge. America’s founders never expected citizens to agree about everything. James Madison argued in Federalist No. 10 that differences of opinion were inevitable in a free society. The answer wasn’t to eliminate disagreement but to build institutions capable of managing it peacefully.

George Washington offered a similar warning in his Farewell Address, urging Americans not to let partisan loyalties eclipse their devotion to the common good. Several decades later, Alexis de Tocqueville observed that one of America’s great strengths was its habit of forming civic associations: churches, charities, clubs, and community organizations where people learned to work alongside one another despite differing interests and opinions.

None of them envisioned a healthy republic sustained by silence.

They understood that civic education has never belonged exclusively to schools. It has always belonged to families, communities, places of worship, voluntary associations, friendships, and the conversations that happen within them.

The goal of etiquette has never been to eliminate disagreement.

The goal is to help us navigate disagreement with grace.

That means recognizing that context matters. The dog park, a wedding reception, or a child’s birthday party is rarely the right setting for an impromptu debate about public policy. Likewise, someone who spends every weekday working on Capitol Hill may not want to spend Saturday afternoon talking about congressional procedure.

It means asking thoughtful questions before offering opinions.

It means resisting the urge to make every disagreement your personal responsibility to resolve.

It means remembering that understanding another person’s perspective may be more valuable than changing it.

And it means allowing relationships to deepen naturally, trusting that the conversations that matter most don’t have to happen in the first five minutes.

For generations, “don’t talk politics” has been one of etiquette’s most enduring pieces of advice.

I don’t think it was ever meant to keep us in small talk forever.

I think it was meant to remind us that trust comes before vulnerability, that context matters, and that relationships deepen one conversation at a time.

That’s not silence.

That’s discernment.

And I suspect it’s exactly the kind of etiquette a free society has always needed.

In Case You Missed It

Over the last week, I loaded up my car with a beautiful collection of plates, glassware, flatware, linen, and chairs all loaned to me by DC Rental for a live dining etiquette segment on Fox & Friends. And a few days later I joined The 700 Club live on the Christian Broadcast Network for a feature segment on my book, Was It Something I Said?

You can get caught up on my Ask Alison column in Evie Magazine here.

Answering for a Friend

Q: I just started a new job and noticed my name is spelled incorrectly on some documents that were sent out to the team. How do I professionally and kindly correct the error, or should I wait and see if they figure it out themselves?

A: Correct it sooner rather than later. It’s much easier to fix a typo than a habit.

If possible, reach out privately to the person who created the document or sent the email rather than replying to the entire team. A simple, friendly note is all you need: “Wanted to send a quick note that my name is spelled Alison rather than Allison.”

If you do end up replying to everyone, your correctly spelled name in your sign-off or email signature is another subtle way to reinforce it.

Most importantly, assume it was an honest mistake and move on.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

Have you ever heard that it’s rude to congratulate a bride?

If you have, you’ve probably wondered whether it’s just another outdated etiquette rule that has no place in modern life. After all, “Congratulations!” is one of the first things most of us instinctively say when someone announces an engagement or celebrates a wedding.

As it turns out, the history is more nuanced than the internet often makes it seem.

Like many etiquette traditions, this one tells us less about the “right” words to use today and more about the values of the society in which the rule originated.

The more interesting question isn’t whether we should still follow the rule. It’s why it existed in the first place.

Why brides weren’t traditionally congratulated

For generations, etiquette books instructed guests to congratulate the groom while offering the bride “best wishes.”

The reasoning reflected the assumptions of the time.

Marriage was viewed quite differently than it is today. Men were generally expected to pursue marriage, while women were expected to be pursued. In that context, “congratulations” implied success in achieving something or obtaining something. Congratulating the groom acknowledged that he had won the hand of the woman he wished to marry.

The bride, by contrast, was traditionally offered “best wishes” for her future. Some etiquette authorities also worried that congratulating her could suggest surprise that she had found someone willing to marry her, an implication that would have been considered unkind.

Whether every wedding guest consciously thought about these meanings is impossible to know. But the etiquette guidance of the time clearly reflected those cultural assumptions.

Emily Post didn’t invent the rule. She documented it.

Emily Post’s early editions of Etiquette helped preserve many of the customs of the early twentieth century, including this one.

In later editions, she wrote that it was proper to congratulate the groom but not the bride.

Reading those books today is fascinating because they serve as snapshots of another era. Alongside advice that now feels dated are countless reminders that still feel remarkably modern.

She encouraged guests to keep receiving line conversations brief so everyone had a chance to greet the couple. She reminded guests to focus on the newlyweds rather than launching into stories about themselves. And although the bride might thank guests in person for their gifts, Emily insisted that handwritten thank-you notes were still essential.

The customs may have evolved, but the underlying principles of generosity, gratitude, and consideration remain remarkably consistent.

What, exactly, are we congratulating?

One reason this debate continues is that we use the word congratulations for so many different occasions.

We congratulate people on graduating, getting promoted, buying a home, having a baby, getting engaged, and getting married.

But those moments aren’t all the same.

Some celebrate achievement.

Some celebrate good fortune.

Some celebrate milestones.

Engagements and weddings are a little different because they celebrate a decision.

When we congratulate someone on their engagement today, we’re not congratulating them because they found someone willing to marry them. We’re celebrating the commitment they’ve chosen to make together. They’ve decided to build a shared life, and that’s a beautiful thing worthy of celebration.

By the wedding day, that decision has already been made. The wedding celebrates the beginning of a marriage, the public promises, and the life that lies ahead.

That shift in how we think about marriage also explains why our language has changed.

Today, marriage is widely understood as a mutual choice between two people. “Congratulations” is no longer heard as recognition that one person successfully obtained the other. Instead, it has become a joyful expression celebrating a significant life milestone.

That’s why modern etiquette authorities, including the Emily Post Institute, consider it perfectly appropriate to congratulate both members of the couple.

So what do I say?

Knowing the history has changed the way I speak, even if I don’t expect it to change anyone else’s.

Modern etiquette is clear: saying “Congratulations!” to both the bride and groom is perfectly gracious. I would never think twice if someone said it, and I certainly wouldn’t consider it a breach of etiquette.

But once I learned the history, I realized I wasn’t particularly attached to the word congratulations.

There are so many richer ways to express genuine happiness for a couple.

“I’m so thrilled for you!”

“I’m over the moon excited for you both!”

“What wonderful news!”

“I can’t wait to celebrate with you!”

Those are the phrases I naturally reach for now.

Not because saying “Congratulations” is wrong. It isn’t. Modern etiquette has evolved, and I think that’s appropriate. But understanding where the custom came from made me more intentional about the words I choose.

The real lesson

One of the things I love most about studying etiquette is that the goal isn’t to collect obscure rules or catch someone making a mistake.

It’s to become more thoughtful in how we care for other people.

Sometimes history changes the way we speak.

Sometimes it simply helps us understand why we speak the way we do.

Either way, learning the story behind a custom gives us the opportunity to choose our words with greater care.

And perhaps that’s the real gift of etiquette. Not that it tells us exactly what to say, but that it encourages us to think about why we’re saying it in the first place.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

We often talk about the importance of finding a mentor. We talk much less about what we owe the people who have already invested in us.

This week reminded me that the etiquette of mentorship isn’t confined to a first coffee meeting or an introductory email. It continues long after the introductions have been made, and it changes as the relationship grows.

Speaking of relationships that started long ago, this week, I reconnected with someone who has been one of the most influential people in my professional life.

I’ve known him for nearly twenty years. He had an illustrious career in journalism and government, and more than anyone I’m not actually related to, he advocated for me, sponsored me, connected me with remarkable people, and opened doors that I never could have opened on my own. So much of whatever maturity I brought to my early years as a reporter and later as an attorney can be traced back to his influence.

As I thought about reconnecting with him, I realized something I wasn’t especially proud of. I had convinced myself that I should wait until I had something substantial to report. Publishing a bestselling book with HarperCollins somehow became the milestone that made me feel comfortable picking up where we’d left off.

I’d quietly written a story in my own mind. If I’d called years ago and said, “I’m leaving a more traditional career path to build an etiquette business,” would he have thought I was making a mistake? Would he have understood what I was trying to build? Would he have thought it was a worthwhile pursuit?

The truth is, I don’t know, because I never gave him the opportunity to answer those questions for himself.

It made me realize how easy it is to misunderstand the purpose of mentorship. We can begin to think that because someone invested in us, we owe them a particular outcome. We worry that if our lives don’t unfold the way they might have imagined, we’ve somehow disappointed them. So instead of sharing where life has taken us, we quietly drift away.

I’ve come to believe the opposite is true. A good mentor doesn’t expect you to become a carbon copy of themselves. They offer perspective, encouragement, and wisdom, but your life is still yours to build. If I could tell my younger self one thing, it would be this: you’re allowed to take some advice and leave other advice. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to discover a path that neither of you could have predicted. None of that is a reason to disappear.

Mentorship doesn’t end because your life takes an unexpected turn. If anything, that’s often when the relationship has the most to offer.

I also recently spent time with someone else I deeply admire, a bestselling author whose generosity is every bit as remarkable as her success.

She was candid about what had worked for her, what hadn’t, and what she wished she’d known sooner. She shared her experience generously, and I left feeling seen, encouraged, and validated.

Before we met, I had read her work, listened to interviews, and learned as much as I could about what she had already chosen to share publicly. Not because I wanted to impress her, but because asking someone for their time comes with a responsibility to honor it.

When someone has spent years thoughtfully sharing their ideas through books, podcasts, interviews, or newsletters, those aren’t hurdles to skip over. They’re gifts. Reading and listening beforehand allows you to spend your time together asking the questions that only they can answer. To me, that’s one of the quiet courtesies of being a good mentee.

Then there was my dad.

If my mom tells him I’ve had good news, he’ll call me. If I don’t answer, he’ll call again. And then probably one more time. Not because he hasn’t already heard the news. More often than not, he has. He simply wants to hear me tell the story myself. He wants to ask a few questions. He wants to celebrate. He wants me to know how proud he is.

His calls reminded me of something else this week. Sometimes the people who’ve supported us the longest become the easiest to overlook, not because we love them less, but because their encouragement feels so dependable that we begin to treat it as a given.

We remember to thank the person who just made an introduction. We remember to follow up after a first meeting. Yet the people who’ve quietly championed us for years can hear our gratitude the least simply because they’ve always been there.

The etiquette of mentorship isn’t only about finding wise people or asking thoughtful questions. It’s about tending to the relationships that have shaped you over time. It’s about staying in touch even when your life has taken an unexpected direction. It’s about respecting someone’s time by preparing before you ask for it. And it’s about remembering to thank the people who’ve believed in you for so long that their encouragement has begun to feel ordinary.

Of course, it never was.

It’s one of the most extraordinary gifts we can receive.

In Case You Missed It

I recently joined Gary Lipovetsky of the Creator Method to talk about etiquette for digital entrepreneurs and business owners. You can listen wherever you listen to podcasts or watch here.

You can get caught up on my Ask Alison column in Evie Magazine here.

Answering for a Friend

Q: Who should pay when a mentor and mentee meet for coffee or a meal?

A: As a general rule, if you’re the mentee and you’ve asked someone to share their time and wisdom with you, you should be prepared to pay. Whether you’re meeting for coffee, tea, or a meal, offering to pick up the bill is a thoughtful way to acknowledge that they’ve already given you something valuable: their time.

In many cases, an established mentor won’t let you. They may insist on treating, particularly if they’re further along in their career or simply enjoy extending that generosity. Let them, if they insist graciously.

But don’t arrive assuming they’ll pay. Arrive expecting to thank them with both your words and your actions. Even if your offer is declined, it communicates respect, appreciation, and an understanding that mentorship is a gift, not an obligation.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

One thing about me is that, as much as I love traveling the world and discovering new places, I love spending the Fourth of July in Maine. For more than thirty years, I’ve looked forward to the same traditions: cookouts with family, beach time, lobster, long walks along the water, celebrating my birthday with my cousin, and long, unhurried days with family and friends.

Some of life’s greatest luxuries aren’t new discoveries. They’re traditions you never tire of.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve been thinking so much about time lately.

Part of the reason is that this week I had the privilege of being a guest on Laura Vanderkam’s podcast. What Laura didn’t know when she invited me was that I had been a longtime admirer of her work. I first read 168 Hours before I started law school, and this spring I read her newest book, Big Time. Revisiting her work more than a decade later, from a very different season of life, reminded me that the best ideas often grow with us.

There are plenty of people who write about productivity. What I’ve always admired about Laura is that her work has never felt like productivity for productivity’s sake. She has built a remarkably full life. She writes books, hosts a podcast, runs marathons, sings in her church choir, is married to a husband with a demanding career, and together they’re raising five children. I also admire that she doesn’t seem to let perfectionism get in the way.

Another lesson I’ve taken from Laura is that most of us have a surprisingly inaccurate sense of how we spend our time. Unless we’re tracking it, we tend to remember the extremes—the hectic days, the wonderful vacations, the unusually busy weeks—rather than what our lives actually look like.

What I’ve come to admire most is that Laura’s work isn’t really about saying no. It’s about building a life where saying yes to the right things naturally means saying no to others.

One of Laura’s ideas has stayed with me for years: People are a good use of time.

That sentence has been on my mind lately for another reason.

Someone I love has been struggling to say no. Not because they don’t know how, but because they care deeply about other people. They don’t want to disappoint anyone. They don’t want someone to think they aren’t grateful, generous, or excited about the invitation. I suspect many of us know that feeling.

One of Laura’s pieces of advice has always resonated with me. If you’re invited to something three months from now, ask yourself whether you’d genuinely want to do it tonight. Or tomorrow night. If the answer is no, there’s a good chance your future self won’t feel much differently.

I’ve come to believe that many of us don’t say yes because we genuinely want to. We say yes because we’re answering on behalf of our future selves. In our minds, she’ll have more time, more energy, and more margin than we do today. She’ll finally be caught up. She’ll feel rested. She’ll be excited about commitments that today’s version of us is already hesitant to make. She’s optimistic, generous, and wonderfully well-intentioned. The trouble is that today’s decisions eventually become tomorrow’s calendar.

Perhaps that’s why Laura encourages us to be honest about what our future selves will actually want. I’ve come to think of it as answering invitations as our present selves, not the imaginary future version who always seems to have more time than we do.

As I’ve been thinking about all of this, I realized there’s an etiquette lesson here, too.

We spend a great deal of time talking about how to say no graciously. We spend far less time talking about how to receive someone else’s no graciously.

When someone declines an invitation, our instinct is often to persuade. “It’ll only take a couple of hours.” “Everyone else is coming.” “You’ll regret missing it.” Most of the time, those comments come from a loving place. We simply want someone whose company we enjoy to join us.

But one of the kindest things we can do is let someone arrive at no on their own.

A gracious invitation leaves room for a gracious decline.

If people are a good use of time, then surely their time deserves our respect, too.

As I finish writing this, some of my family and friends are at a piano bar singing show tunes. Truthfully, I’d love to be there. But by the time this lands in your inbox, I’ll be celebrating the Fourth of July with the people I love, grateful that I chose to spend part of my Friday evening writing to all of you instead.

Time has a way of asking us to choose between many good things.

That’s true when deciding whether to spend a Friday evening writing or singing along to show tunes. It’s true when deciding whether to accept an invitation months from now. It’s true every time we choose one good thing over another.

I’m still learning that time management isn’t really about finding more hours in the day. It’s about becoming more honest with ourselves—honest about what matters, honest about what we’ll actually enjoy, and honest enough to say yes wholeheartedly and no graciously.

People are a good use of time.

And one of the best ways to show people we value them is by respecting how they choose to spend theirs.

Happy Fourth of July!

In Case You Missed It

I recently joined Gary Lipovetsky of the Creator Method to talk about etiquette for digital entrepreneurs and business owners. You can listen wherever you listen to podcasts or watch here.

You can get caught up on my Ask Alison column in Evie Magazine here.

Answering for a Friend

Q: My family wants to have a diaper raffle at my baby shower, but I only plan to use one specific diaper brand. Is it rude to ask for that brand, or should I skip the diaper raffle altogether?

A: You don't need to feel obligated to accept dozens of diapers you already know you won't use. If you're comfortable sharing your preferred brand, it's perfectly appropriate for your hosts to include that information. If not, I'd simply skip the diaper raffle altogether. Shower traditions are meant to make life easier for the parents-to-be, not create another item on the to-do list. I'd much rather see guests contribute something you know you'll use than something you'll spend time exchanging or donating later.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

Welcome back to The Dinner Party Test, my monthly reading roundup.

One of my favorite things about reading is that it gives me something interesting to think about, something new to learn, and often, something worth talking about. While I enjoy hearing what others are reading, I’ve never been particularly drawn to assigning books stars, grades, or numerical rankings.

Instead, I like to ask three simple questions:

🍽️ Would I bring it up at a dinner party?
💕 Would I recommend it to a friend?
✨ Did it change how I think?

Some books teach you something practical. Others introduce you to a different perspective, transport you somewhere new, or simply make a long flight or quiet weekend more enjoyable. Not every book is trying to accomplish the same thing, which is why these questions feel more useful to me than a score out of five.

Apparently, June became my month for books about time. I didn’t set out with that intention, but I ended up reading two excellent books that approached the topic from different angles before diving into a novel that involved going back in time that was so engrossing that it was a tough act to follow as a I tried a few other novels.

Big Time

by Laura Vanderkam

🍽️ Would I bring it up at a dinner party? Absolutely—but not because I’d be trying to diagnose or fix someone’s time management struggles. Laura’s work isn’t about squeezing more into your calendar. It’s about being intentional with the time you have. One of my favorite ideas of hers is that people are a good use of time, a philosophy that feels especially refreshing in a culture that often treats relationships as interruptions to productivity.

💕 Would I recommend it to a friend? Absolutely. I’ve been a fan of Laura’s work ever since her book, 168 Hours, completely changed how I think about time and priorities. I read it in 2015 the summer before law school and have been dutifully tracking my time as she recommends ever since. One of the happiest surprises this month was that Laura reached out to me, not realizing I had long admired her work, and invited me to join her podcast to chat about etiquette and my book, Was It Something I Said? We recently recorded the episode, and it was every bit as enjoyable as I’d hoped.

✨ Did it change how I think? More than anything, it reinforced why I’ve admired Laura’s work for so many years. While this book may resonate especially with entrepreneurs or parents, Laura has spent years researching how people actually spend their time, and her insights apply far beyond those audiences. I’ve also long appreciated that she doesn’t let perfectionism become a barrier to doing meaningful work or starting something new. She consistently produces thoughtful, well-researched ideas while reminding us that excellence doesn’t require waiting for perfect circumstances.

Uptime

by Laura Mae Martin

🍽️ Would I bring it up at a dinner party? Yes—but again, not as a way of telling someone how to better organize their life. I’d be much more likely to bring it up in a conversation about leadership, teamwork, or how organizations function. It offers plenty of practical advice, but what interested me most were the ideas about how people work together and manage their personal and shared time well.

💕 Would I recommend it to a friend? Absolutely, especially if you enjoy Adam Grant’s books or like learning about organizational leadership, workplace culture, and interpersonal dynamics. Laura Mae Martin writes from her experience as Google’s Executive Productivity Advisor, and her perspective feels practical without becoming overly prescriptive.

✨ Did it change how I think? It reminded me that productivity isn’t simply about getting more done. The best systems help us communicate more clearly, collaborate more effectively, and spend our time where it matters most.

Yesteryear

by Caro Claire Burke

🍽️ Would I bring it up at a dinner party? Without question. Yesteryear is a psychological thriller set in the present time but also goes back in time to the 1800s and more recent past. It features a “tradwife” style content creator and her family. Through the lens of internet culture, influencer life, and the idealization of the past, it explores questions about identity, gender, and the stories we tell ourselves online. I read it before I realized quite how popular it had become, and I suspected I might enjoy it more than the average reader because I spend so much time thinking about internet culture and the ways online conversations shape our perceptions.

💕 Would I recommend it to a friend? Yes—with one caveat: it’s dark. But it’s also captivating. In fact, after finishing it, I started several other novels and couldn’t get into any of them because Yesteryear was so thrilling by comparison.

✨ Did it change how I think? It sharpened ideas I’d already been wrestling with, particularly around the conversation surrounding “trad wives.” The term has become so clickbait-y, reductive, and unnecessarily divisive that people often aren’t even talking about the same thing anymore. I appreciated that the novel explores these cultural questions with much more nuance than most online conversations allow.

One thing I found particularly interesting was the reaction to the author herself. I saw criticism suggesting she must be an angry person because she wrote an angry female protagonist. It made me wonder whether we make the same assumption about male authors who write deeply flawed or troubled male characters. We seem much more willing to separate male authors from their protagonists than female authors.

Finally, I also started an older memoir by a well-known entrepreneur in the beauty industry. I ultimately decided not to finish it. In the spirit of this series, I’d rather spend my time recommending books than criticizing them, so I’m going to keep that title to myself this month.

What have you been reading lately? I’d love to hear what’s earned a spot at your own dinner party.

Is it rude to book a different hotel than the one the couple recommended?

Is requesting three outfit changes part of creating a memorable experience or asking too much?

Should couples carefully curate every moment of a destination wedding weekend, or leave guests to discover the destination on their own?

Maybe.

When you’re accepted to law school, one of the books everyone recommends—and often gives as a gift—is Getting to Maybe.

Its premise has stayed with me long after graduation.

Before law school, we’re often rewarded for finding the one right answer. Law school teaches something different. You’re given the same facts and law and asked to exercise judgment, appreciate nuance, and recognize that more than one reasonable answer may exist.

I’ve found myself thinking about that book throughout our travels because destination weddings simply involve more decisions than most weddings.

Over the past two weeks, Jason and I traveled through Lake Como, Portofino, and Saint-Tropez. Everywhere we went, we seemed to meet people who were attending destination weddings, had recently returned from one, or were planning one of their own. Conversations unfolded at beach clubs, during shuttle rides into town, and over long lakeside lunches.

I certainly wasn’t asking anyone about wedding budgets or financial arrangements, but those details often found their way into conversation. It’s difficult to talk about destination weddings without eventually talking about flights, hotels, vacation time, and the countless choices couples make about what they’ll host and what they’ll leave to their guests.

We met numerous guests who had attended weddings where an entire luxury property had been bought out and overnight accommodations were included, leaving guests responsible only for their flights. One groom was personally funding a multi-million-dollar wedding weekend in Tuscany, despite the fact that the bride’s family also could have contributed. Guests simply needed to purchase their flights and follow a style guide that included as many as three outfit changes each day.

We met a newly engaged couple from Australia who had recently returned from a destination wedding in Spain. They were genuinely excited to begin planning their own celebration, but there was also a palpable sense of wondering what was now expected after seeing so many extraordinary weddings—not only among people they knew, but also among celebrities and the countless weddings shared online.

An older couple traveling for another wedding shared how they were navigating the trip with the husband’s wheelchair. The venue presented plenty of physical challenges, but they had decided celebrating the couple mattered enough to make it work. Rather than dwelling on the obstacles, they approached each logistical hurdle with remarkable good humor.

Other guests talked about extending wedding weekends into longer European holidays, adding a few days in another city before returning home.

What struck me wasn’t the cost of any particular wedding.

It was how differently everyone experienced them.

Destination weddings have become both more public and more personal than ever before.

They’re more public because we don’t just experience the weddings we’re invited to. We experience the weddings our friends attend, the weddings of acquaintances, the weddings celebrities share, and the weddings complete strangers post online. Every welcome party, rehearsal dinner, farewell brunch, outfit change, and sunset dinner expands our sense of what a wedding weekend can look like.

They’re more personal because weddings themselves have become far less one-size-fits-all. A modest ceremony in your hometown and a four-day celebration in Tuscany simply ask different things of the couple and different things of their guests. The etiquette shouldn’t be identical either.

Destination weddings simply involve more decisions than most weddings.

More decisions for the couple.

More decisions for the guests.

More opportunities to anticipate someone’s needs.

More opportunities to misunderstand one another.

And ultimately, more opportunities to extend grace.

When you’re inviting loved ones to a place they may have never visited before, you’re not simply hosting a ceremony. You’re introducing them to a destination. That means thinking about transportation, accommodations, restaurants, local customs, and the countless questions that naturally arise when people are far from home. You don’t have to anticipate every need, but thoughtful guidance goes a long way.

Guests, too, have opportunities to be thoughtful.

Once you’ve accepted the invitation, embrace the celebration for what it is rather than wishing it were something else. Wear the sunset colors. Embrace the itinerary. Learn a few words of the local language. Meet someone new at dinner. Cheer during the speeches. Be a good sport.

The weekend isn’t about recreating the trip you would have planned for yourself.

It’s about helping two people begin their marriage surrounded by people who are genuinely happy to celebrate them.

Perhaps that’s the real lesson of Getting to Maybe.

The goal isn’t to force every situation into one universal rule. It’s to develop the judgment to recognize nuance, extend generosity, and choose the most gracious path for the circumstances in front of you.

The more weddings I experience, the more convinced I become that etiquette isn’t about always having the right answer.

It’s about exercising good judgment when there isn’t just one.

In Case You Missed It

I recently joined Gary Lipovetsky of the Creator Method to talk about etiquette for digital entrepreneurs and business owners. You can listen wherever you listen to podcasts or watch here.

You can get caught up on my Ask Alison column in Evie Magazine here.

Answering for a Friend

Q: My neighbor and I wave to each other almost every day, but we’ve never actually introduced ourselves. At this point, it feels awkward. Have I waited too long?

A: Not at all. In fact, acknowledging the awkwardness often makes the introduction easier. A simple, “I can’t believe we’ve lived next to each other this long and haven’t properly met. I’m Alison,” is warm, genuine, and likely a relief to the other person, too. Good manners aren’t about pretending you know someone’s name after missing a window of opportunity. It’s perfectly polite to create an opportunity to introduce yourself now.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

I’ve been thinking lately about the paradox of kindness to strangers: how it’s both easier to be kind to strangers and easier not to.

The thought came to me after listening to a homily from Father Mike Schmitz, and it’s stayed with me as I’ve traveled through Italy over the past week.

In some ways, strangers are the easiest people to be kind to.

After all, they haven’t disappointed us. They haven’t been sarcastic. They haven’t minimized our accomplishments or talked behind our backs. We don’t carry years of history, baggage, or unresolved frustrations into our interactions with them.

In fact, unlike the people closest to us, strangers rarely trigger us.

There is no old argument lingering beneath the surface. No accumulated resentment. No memory of being hurt, misunderstood, or let down.

Kindness toward strangers can feel effortless.

Sometimes it can even feel a little self-righteous.

Look at me, learning the name of my dry cleaner. Look at me, chatting with the cashier. Look at me, asking a thoughtful question and taking an interest in someone’s day.

Those moments are good. They matter. But they are often easier than extending patience and grace to the people who challenge us most.

But there is another side to the paradox.

Strangers are also the easiest people not to be kind to.

For most of us, there is very little accountability. If we’re abrupt with the person answering the customer service line, dismissive toward the receptionist, impatient with the cashier, or rude to the person helping us find something in a store, what happens?

Probably nothing.

We’ll likely never see them again.

Unless you’re like my husband, Jason, who, no matter how late we’re running, wants to have an elongated conversation with the elderly couple by the pool about where they’re from, where they’ve traveled, what brought them here, and generally their entire life story, even though we will almost certainly never see them again.

I admire that about him.

Most of us are not naturally wired that way.

It’s easy to move through the world treating strangers as background characters in our own story rather than people with stories of their own.

Travel has made me think about this even more.

Over the past week, I’ve encountered countless people working in hospitality. The concierge answering the same questions for the hundredth time. The server describing the menu yet again. The hotel employee explaining how to get to the ferry. The front desk attendant welcoming guests who have been traveling for hours.

Of course, one could argue that this is simply their job.

As Don Draper famously tells Peggy Olson in Mad Men when she seeks recognition for her work: “That’s what the money is for.”

And yes, people in hospitality are paid to be hospitable. They are paid to answer questions, solve problems, and welcome guests.

But anyone who has traveled enough knows there is a difference between service and hospitality.

One fulfills an obligation.

The other conveys genuine warmth.

The people who do it best create something that cannot be required by a job description. They make people feel seen. They make guests feel welcome. They communicate, whether intentionally or not: “I’m glad you’re here.”

That spirit is palpable.

Perhaps that’s why kindness to strangers matters so much.

Not because strangers have earned it. Not because there are consequences if we fail to offer it. But because kindness offered to someone who may never cross our path again is one of the purest forms of kindness there is.

It’s easy to be kind to people who have never hurt us.

It’s easy to ignore people we’ll never see again.

The challenge is choosing something better.

In Case You Missed It

I was interviewed by White House Correspondent Mary Margaret Olohan for The Catholic Herald on the moral case for good manners. You can watch the full episode here on YouTube or listen wherever you listen to podcasts.

You can get caught up on my Ask Alison column in Evie Magazine here.

Answering for a Friend

Q: I travel frequently for work and often find myself dining alone. I genuinely enjoy it, but I sometimes encounter people who seem to pity me for being by myself or men who interpret my solo dinner as an invitation to strike up a conversation. Is there a polite way to signal that I’d prefer to enjoy my meal in peace?

A: First, let’s retire the idea that dining alone is something to be pitied.

Being alone and being lonely are not the same thing and there’s nothing wrong with traveling, dining, and exploring on your own.

As for unwanted conversation, etiquette does not require unlimited access to your time and attention.

If someone makes a friendly comment, a brief smile and response are perfectly gracious. If the conversation continues and you’d rather return to your meal, a simple, “It was nice chatting with you. I’m going to get back to my book (or work, or dinner),” is both kind and clear.

The same principle applies to those who seem concerned that you’re dining alone. There’s no need to apologize for it or explain yourself. A cheerful, “I travel quite a bit and actually enjoy a good solo dinner,” usually puts the matter to rest.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

When I teach etiquette seminars, I often ask participants to think about the people in their lives who have that special something.

The friend you could place at any table, at any wedding, in any city, and they would have a wonderful time—and so would everyone around them.

They aren't necessarily the funniest person in the room. They aren't always the most accomplished, the wealthiest, or the most connected. They may possess all of those qualities, but that isn't what people remember most about them.

They possess that elusive quality the French call je ne sais quoi.

Another way to think about it is this: Who makes you feel as though you’re the only person in the room?

Many people said this about Mother Teresa. Others said it about television personality Fred Rogers, musical performing artist Dolly Parton, Princess Diana, and various political leaders. Despite the demands on their time and attention, those who met them often walked away feeling seen, heard, and valued.

Fortunately, this quality is not reserved for saints, world leaders, or the naturally charismatic. It is often the result of a handful of habits—small choices that make a big difference in how others experience us. Here are five habits of highly charismatic people that you might consider incorporating:

1. They Don’t Need to Be the Expert

The people everyone loves to be around don’t feel the need to prove themselves in every conversation.

They can listen to someone describe their finished kitchen renovation without interrupting and suggesting what they should do differently next time.

They understand that not every conversation is an opportunity to demonstrate knowledge. Sometimes the most generous thing you can do is let someone else have the floor.

2. They Don’t Complain

Of course, they notice when the weather is dreadful, the flight is delayed, or the restaurant is crowded.

They simply don’t make those things the main event.

Being pleasant isn’t pretending everything is perfect. It’s recognizing that every gathering, dinner, meeting, and vacation contains the possibility of inconveniences and choosing not to make them everyone else’s problem.

People are naturally drawn to those who make situations feel lighter, not heavier.

3. They Know How to Make Introductions—and They Make Them Early and Often

One of the simplest ways to make people feel welcome is to connect them to others.

The best hosts, colleagues, and friends don’t wait for introductions to happen organically. They create them.

“Emma, have you met Catherine? You're both serious readers, and I have a feeling you'll leave tonight with several great book recommendations."

A thoughtful introduction gives people a bridge to cross together. It transforms strangers into conversation partners.

The most socially skilled people understand that making introductions is not merely polite. It is an act of hospitality.

4. They Express Gratitude Generously

The most memorable people rarely assume appreciation is understood. They express it.

It’s the speaker who begins by thanking the organizers and acknowledging everyone who made the event possible.

It’s the dinner guest who notices the effort behind the meal.

It’s the colleague who recognizes the person working quietly behind the scenes.

Gratitude has a remarkable way of making everyone around us feel valued. The people everyone loves to be around know this, and they practice it regularly.

5. They Are Genuinely Interested in Other People

When someone tells them about a recent trip to Italy, they don’t immediately pivot to their own.

Instead, they ask another question.

What was your favorite part?

What surprised you?

Would you go back?

Their curiosity is genuine because their focus is outward.

One of the greatest gifts we can give another person is our attention. Curiosity communicates, “For this moment, your story matters.”

And people never forget how that feels.

The Secret Isn’t So Secret After All

The people with je ne sais quoi often appear effortless, but when you look closely, their magic isn’t mysterious at all.

They make people feel welcome, interesting, and appreciated.

And in a world where so many people are focused on being noticed, they have mastered something far more powerful: They notice others.

In Case You Missed It

I was interviewed by White House Correspondent Mary Margaret Olohan for The Catholic Herald on the moral case for good manners. You can watch the full episode here on YouTube or listen wherever you listen to podcasts.

You can also find my insights on etiquette today in the latest print edition of Town & Country Magazine in an article by Joel Stein and read a digital version here.

You can get caught up on my Ask Alison column in Evie Magazine here.

Answering for a Friend

Q: My son recently graduated from high school and has been invited to several graduation parties. It got me wondering: Should he be bringing a host gift when he's invited to someone's home, or is that something we don't expect from teenagers?

A: In this case, I wouldn’t worry about a host gift.

When a gathering is held in honor of someone—a graduation party, birthday party, bridal shower, baby shower, or retirement celebration—the focus is on the guest of honor. A card, gift, or thoughtful gesture for the graduate is all that’s expected.

Could you also bring something for the host? Certainly. It would be kind, but it isn’t necessary.

I find it helpful to think about where my attention, generosity, and resources are best directed. At a graduation party, they belong with the graduate and the milestone being celebrated. A warm thank-you to the host is more than sufficient.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

This week, I had the pleasure of speaking at an event in Washington, D.C., co-sponsored by several Midwestern state societies. The topic was “Midwest Nice” and navigating life in a city where professional accomplishments can appear in conversations remarkably early and often.

As we talked about networking, introductions, and building relationships, one theme kept resurfacing:

How do you talk about yourself without sounding self-important?

It’s a question I hear often, particularly from women.

Most of us don’t want to monopolize a conversation. We don’t want to come across as boastful. We don’t want to make every interaction about ourselves.

But there is a difference between humility and invisibility.

1. Answer the Question — Then Create Space for Someone Else

When someone asks about your work, your background, your family, your hobbies, or what you’ve been up to lately, answer the question that was actually asked.

Many of us either give a one-word answer or a twenty-minute autobiography.

Neither is ideal.

Share enough to move the conversation forward, then invite the other person into it.

The best conversations feel less like a presentation and more like a shared exchange.

2. Share Information, Not Interpretation

There is a difference between sharing a fact and telling people what they should think about that fact.

For example:

“I was promoted earlier this year.”

is different from

“I’m one of the top performers on my team.”

One is information. The other is self-evaluation.

Whenever possible, share the information and let others draw their own conclusions.

3. Don’t Be Afraid to Be Excited

Have you ever noticed how often women receive conflicting advice?

We’re told to be confident, but not too confident. Ambitious, but not too ambitious. Passionate, but not too passionate.

And somewhere along the way, many of us start to worry that visible excitement will make us seem inexperienced.

Have you ever hesitated to use an exclamation point in an email? Or toned down your enthusiasm because you didn’t want to appear naïve, overly eager, or less professional?

There is a meaningful difference between self-congratulation and genuine enthusiasm.

One of the most gracious ways to talk about yourself is simply to share what you’re excited about. Not because you’re trying to impress anyone, but because you genuinely care.

People are often far more receptive to:

“I’m really excited about a new project I’m working on.”

than they are to a list of accomplishments.

Enthusiasm is contagious. It invites people into the story.

And contrary to what some people might tell you, excitement is not evidence of inexperience. Sometimes it’s evidence that you still care.

4. Give Credit Generously

One of the easiest ways to talk about yourself without sounding self-important is to acknowledge the mentors, teachers, colleagues, friends, family members, and supporters who helped you along the way.

Success stories are almost never solo stories.

5. Stop Minimizing Yourself Before Anyone Else Can

Many of us have a habit of shrinking our accomplishments before we’ve even finished sharing them.

“I was only...”

“It’s really not a big deal.”

“I probably just got lucky.”

“This isn’t very impressive, but...”

You don’t need to exaggerate your accomplishments.

You also don’t need to apologize for them.

Allow other people to decide what is noteworthy.

6. Be Interested, Not Just Interesting

The people we favorably remember most are rarely the ones who talked about themselves the most. They’re the people who made us feel seen, heard, and valued.

Yes, share your story. Answer questions honestly. Talk about what you’re building, learning, or working toward. Let people get to know you.

But remember that every person you meet is carrying around a lifetime of experiences, challenges, interests, and dreams of their own. Genuine curiosity is one of the most attractive qualities a person can possess.

The goal isn’t to avoid talking about yourself. The goal is to make sure you’re equally interested in learning about everyone else.

That’s the balance.

Humility isn’t pretending you have nothing to offer.

It’s remembering that everyone else has something to offer, too.

In Case You Missed It

I was featured in the latest print edition of Town & Country Magazine in an article titled “Is Mean the New Peptide?” by Joel Stein. You can read a digital version here.

I was also interviewed for this Newsweek piece on airplane etiquette and the foods to avoid in the name of passenger politeness, and also I joined NTD News’ Tiffany Meier Tonight live to share about the hosting faux pas to avoid this summer. Here’s a link to that interview.

You can get caught up on my Ask Alison column in Evie Magazine here.

Answering for a Friend

Q: I’m going to dinner with a former boss who I know intends to pay. I recently graduated from law school and started a job in DC where I’m not allowed to accept gifts because of ethics rules. What’s the best and most polite way to handle this?

A: Etiquette should never require you to violate an ethics rule. Rather than waiting until the check arrives, I’d address it early and graciously:

“I’m really looking forward to catching up. One quick note: because of my new position, I’m not able to accept meals as gifts. I’d love to join you, but I will need to cover my own dinner.”

Most people will understand immediately. The key is to be warm, appreciative, and clear.

If you have a question for a future Answering for a Friend segment or my Ask Alison column, please email info@elevateetiquette.com.

For more writing like this, my modern etiquette guide, Was it Something I Said?, is on sale wherever books are sold.

With love,

Alison

Welcome to a new series I’m calling The Dinner Party Test, where I share what I’ve read over the past month.

One of my favorite things about reading is that it gives me something interesting to think about, something new to learn, and often, something worth talking about. While I love hearing what others are reading, I’ve never been particularly drawn to assigning books stars, grades, or numerical rankings.

Part of that is because it feels nearly impossible to compare books across different genres. How do you fairly compare a memoir to a novel or a practical guide to a beach read? It feels a bit like comparing apples to Adirondack chairs.

The other reason is that, in the spirit of being polite, I’d rather focus on what a book did well than spend my time cataloging its shortcomings. Not every book is trying to accomplish the same thing. Some teach. Some entertain. Some challenge your assumptions. Some simply keep you company on a flight or a rainy afternoon.

So instead of points or grades, I’ll be sharing a few thoughts on each book through the lens of what I’m calling The Dinner Party Test:

🍽️ Would I bring it up at a dinner party?

💕 Would I recommend it to a friend?

✨ Did it change how I think?

With that, here’s what I read in May, which included the most fiction I’ve read in a while.

Read more