The Charm Offensive: a dozen ways to ingratiate yourself

I've been pondering what I can do to be useful in the world -- other than telling people about tree-hugging, baking carrot cakes, spiritual expansion and Italian independent movies --and I've come to the conclusion that what the world needs now is a Charm Offensive. So many young people born after 1980 really haven't been schooled in the importance of manners,  and I feel that they are truly missing out on life and the marvelous things that could come their way as a result of good old-fashioned charm. As I was completely obsessed with and flayed myself at the cathedral of Nancy Mitford, I believe really do have an enormous amount to offer. Most of this, of course, I blame on my mother's best friend, Sheila, who was always the life of every party and although jolly naughty in some of her suggestions for us children, managed to bring the most wonderful happy energy into any room she entered. Another huge part I owe to my friend D's ma, who spoke with the mo---st mah---velous drawl, smelled divine, and never failed to make us giggle or engage us in a subject we hadn't known anything about before. You know, like the sex life of the pygmy goat.

Here, then is the basic premise: If you want to get anywhere in the world, you need to learn to be charming. Charm, one would think, something one is born with, but alas no, because some of the most charming people I know have deeply un-charming, and actually downright surly children. If it doesn't come naturally to you; if you weren't gifted with a family friend with a twinkle in her eye, or haven't had a copy of Emily Post delivered to your office door (I did this, I admit, to a particularly rude agent at William Morris; he thought it frightfully amusing and I never looked back) I've written you a little primer. And just a note on this, charm isn't fake. It's a method one employs to make those around you feel safe and happy and taken care of. It doesn't have to feel false or forced. It's actually a rather sweet form of kindness. So here goes:

1.Sing for your supper. This is a rather simple notion that states if you have been invited to a dinner party, a lunch or a country weekend, your payment for this gracious invitation is to be witty and amusing, particularly around your host and any elderly family members. Take some time to learn a few anecdotes or funny stories, some jolly facts about lesser-known subjects, and be ready to share them with. Or, make sure you read up on the latest novels or new films in theatres. It's your gift. It's what you're there to do.

2. The Hostess Gift. Never show up empty-handed. Even if you steal a rose from a hedgerow on your way, don't show up without something for your hostess. Some chocolate, a bottle of wine, a few flowers, a special loaf of bread, a book, whatever you can. Recently, I had lunch with an old friend, and instead of flowers, a vase of beech leaves sat on his dining room table, rather charmingly. Americans are particularly good at hostess gifts, and arrive with embarrassingly large gifts, boxed and wrapped and tied with a pink velvet ribbon. 

3. Manners means making others comfortable. Once, when I was about fifteen, overweight, with Janis Ian skin, and quite awkward, a friend took me to the Fourth of June. Her older brother who was ridiculously handsome, down to his chiselled Elvis lips and tight trousers, offered me a drink first, before anyone else. I had no idea what to say or what the right answer was, and desperately looked around me to see what other people had done. But I was first. I felt paralyzed. He beamed at me, the most charming of smiles, and said nodding at the bottle of champagne in his hand "this looks rather good, don't you think?" Saved. In a moment. The relief.

4. Speak to the people on each side of you. This means, turn to the left and make conversation with the elderly aunt sitting next to you. Ask her what it was like to grow up in Africa, or whether she grows dahlias, or if she has a particularly good Christmas cake recipe. Look her in the eyes. Engage her. Make sure she has everything she needs, so she doesn't have to ask for salt and pepper. And then turn to the person on the other side of you and do the same. Pay attention to make sure that no-one is being left out or feeling shy and awkward. Another personal anecdote. I think I was about thirteen and it was my first dinner party, and I thought boys were from another planet. I was frozen to the spot, dry mouthed and terrified, drowing in my own un-interestingness when the boy next to me, a not particularly handsome redhead called Simon turned to me and said, "Do you know that the Polar explorers discovered that penguin tastes rather like chicken." And then we laughed and laughed, me from relief.

5. If you think you have nothing to offer, trying smiling. Nothing can disarm like a smile. Some of the loveliest house guests I've had to stay when I lived in LA - mostly the children of friends - would saunter into the kitchen in with a bright smile and say "Good morning" with such joy that it was hard to focus on the fact that they hadn't come home till 3am the night before. "I'm making some eggs, would you like some" is always a good follow up.

6. Pass the salt. My father's trick was to say, "would you like some salt" when he wanted it passed to him, because he believed it rude to ask directly. (He also kept a large red Thesaurus next to his plate, just in case.) Or pouring the wine, or water, for the person next to you. And not taking the last potato.

7. Pick up the plates and offer to do the washing up. You probably won't do the washing up, but it's so incredibly lovely, as the hostess, to hear a guest ask at least. And even if you don't wash up, see if you can stack the plates into the dishwasher, or bring in the pudding plates.

8. Stand up when someone older than you comes into the room. Oh I know I'm going to be well and truly bashed for being a dinosaur for this one, but it's just so lovely to be in the presence of someone who is paying attention. Once, when I was about eighteen, my mother walked into the room where a few friends and I were sitting, and all but one of the young men got up to say hello. The one dimwit who was still in his chair was approached by my mother who stretched out her hand to shake his, and pulled him fully out of the chair as she said, "I'm Bente, how are you?" I hated her for that then as much as I love her for it now.

9. Don't drone on. I'm afraid I do this sometimes. I think I'm being witty and charming, but I nervously chatter. I did it yesterday at lunch at a friend's house. I whispered to C across the table "Am I talking too much." "No, of course not" he said kindly. "Actually you're being quite funny." I gulped my water and shut up, remembering a French anglophile who lived near us a few years ago and asked us out to lunch at the local pub. Two and a half hours of non-stop droning on and on and on about the most incredibly dull things. Bored rigid. Eyes propped open with matchsticks.

10. Remember Thelwell: "Treat your pony as you would like to be treated yourself." This is accompanied by a picture of a pony having a lick of a little girl's ice cream. This is essentially "be kind; everyone is fighting a hard battle." It's not always easy to remember that even the most loutish of people are struggling with something inside, and it's always better to be kind and forgiving. I find it hard. Sometimes I want to punch people on the nose, but I managed to wrestle my fist down with my other hand.

11. Phones should be turned off at supper time. I mean, is there anything more un-charming than a phone being tapped upon?

12. Forgive. This should probably be on another list, but it's a lesson I need to learn myself today. It also reminds me of a story about the Queen and the fingerbowl. Apparently at a state dinner, the Queen had an ambassador from a far-off land sitting next to her and there were fingerbowls at each place setting, after a fish course, perhaps. The visitor believe that the little china bowl filled with warm water and a slice of lemon was a tasty English, and heartily tipped the whole thing into his mouth. Without a word, the Queen looked at him, picked up her finger bowl and did the exact same thing, smiling at the gentleman. The whole long table followed suit.