Greetings!

It is I, everyone’s favourite Regency time-traveler, Bertram St. James.

(I am also known by a certain name which some of my intimates insist on using for me, Bertie the Beau. Of course, I have never encouraged this habit. After all, I am modesty personified!)

(Or…do I mean humility? I can never remember which is which. Though, come to think of it, what have I to be humble about? So perhaps I do mean modesty.)

Ahem.

Today, I am going to talk about what holiday gifts are certain to please any true gentleman of your acquaintance, and which would be destined only to be passed off immediately to the servants.

If you are on a tight budget, these gloves are a thrifty yet delightful gift. They are lined with cashmere, of course, because no real gentleman has skin that can withstand anything rougher. And how delightful — they only cost $200! So you can buy several pairs to “stuff” (as modern folks so vulgarly put it) the silk stockings of your favorite gentleman.

(I confess, I have not yet quite grasped the need to ruin a good pair of stockings every year by filling them with presents, but as you see, I am trying to adapt myself to the customs of the year 2007.)

Here is what not to get for a gentleman, or, indeed, anyone with any claim to elegance.

Is this not the ugliest thing you have ever seen?

What grace? What beauty? What possible redeeming feature does this “watch” have?

Of course, all “wrist-watches” are inherently repellant, when it comes to aesthetic considerations. I have no idea why they were created.

If you must give a gentleman a watch, it should look like this. Graceful, pleasing, and made of precious metals.

Of course, no watch can have true elegance.

After all, why in the world would one need to know the time?

Very well, one might if one had agree to meet one’s fellows at one’s club at a certain time. But one could always rely on one’s man to send one off in time for that.

(Unless one’s man is a hedgehog, but that’s another matter entirely.)

Think about it. Whenever you see a man with a watch, you immediately know that he is some kind of clerk, rushing off to do things with papers and money and other tedious and decidedly middle-class inventions.

This is by far the best thing to give to any gentleman.

A gigantic-screened TeleVision Device.

Heavenly.

And, yes, it is rather distasteful to look at. But only when it is not turned on!

This, by the way, is what a certain Beau of your acquaintance would prefer to be given this year.

And if I receive multiple copies of this “item” — then all the better! I can watch several of my favourite “shows” at once.

Here is another example of what not to give a gentleman of elegance — the most recent “cinema” version of Miss Austen’s novel.

(Do I hear some shocked murmuring out there? Very well, I admit that there are rumours floating about here and there that Keira Knightley and I are secretly pledged to each other.

But let me assure you — those stories were all put about by my eternally embarrassing aunt, and have no relation to earthly reality. For, as much as I respect Mlle. Knightley’s dramatic talents, and envy her cheekbones, I must confess there have been no promises made between us. And if I have even met the young lady, I refuse to either confirm or deny.)

No, my prejudices against this Movie are all because of the disgraceful coiffures displayed therein.

Of which this is but one example. (Private note to K.K.: what were you thinking? The next time we see each other, I shall insist you buy yourself a comb.)

There you have it! Your shopping made simple. Yes on cashmere gloves and enormous TeleVision Screens, perhaps on gold pocket watches, and an emphatic no to wristwatches and Mlle Knightley’s tangled mane.

Yours in elegance,

Bertram St. James, Exquisite

Hello!

Bertie the Beau (our resident Regency time-traveling exquisite) and I watched the season finale of Heroes last night, and Bertie just can’t stop talking about it!

So I thought — why not have an online discussion with him, to see what a Regency dandy thinks about superheroes?

Luckily for me, he agreed.

Hi, Bertie! Thanks for joining us!

Delighted to be here! Thank you for the tea.

You’re very welcome! So, Bertie — what did you think of Heroes last night? Did it fulfill your expectations?

Oh, I found it fascinating. But I do wish there hadn’t been quite so much fighting. Firearms, swords, fists — I did wish it would stop!

Oh — did the violence bother you?

Bother me? Oh, no. I quite like violence.

You…like violence? (Should I be worrying about this? Are you going to start having melees in my living room?)

Goodness, nothing of the sort. When I say I like violence, I mean I enjoy watching things such as prize-fighting (the science, the agile movements, the beautiful bodies) and fencing (the sheer poetry of motion).

So…what part of the fighting in Heroes didn’t you like?

They got all messy. It was highly displeasing!
The characters in Heroes should look dapper, like this:

Ah, yes. Such a nice coat. And I do like the hair.

Precisely! That is what heroes should look like.

Not with their hair all over the place, and dust and dirt and whatnot randomly sprinkled about, like this:

Now I ask you: is that attractive?

Well, as that is the villain, I don’t think he’s supposed to be attractive.

Nonsense. Everyone should be attractive. (Particularly the villains. After all, isn’t it said that villains should be rounded characters, and not all bad? That’s a subtle way of saying they should be handsome and well-dressed. And definitely clean.)

Hmm… I fear we’ve gotten off the subject. (You do have a wonderful way of leading the conversation into unexpected paths.) So I’ll just finish by asking: if you could have one superhero power, what would you have? The ability to always be elegant, or never get dirty?

Ahem. I already have those powers.

Oh, yes, sorry. I knew that. So, what would your power be?

I would most like the ability to render all animals around me (particularly cats) magnetic, so that if they shed their fur, it still sticks to them, and never touches my coat.

Lovely. (Though I’m not sure you’ll be invited into the Justice League anytime soon. That’s not exactly a power to rescue people with, is it?)

Oh, very well. I will specify that my power will affect all cats everywhere on the globe — and I will so beautify the world that I will be hailed the most superb of all super heroes.

Thanks for joining us today, Bertie!

My pleasure. (And yours, too, of course.)

Cara

Greetings! I, Bertie the Beau, hope you are all in the midst of enjoying your End-Week.

I have some more Questions for you. I do hope someone here can help me with them.

1) Why do Waiters (who are called this, I surmise, for the simple reason that they make one wait for them) clean the table, which one never touches (unless one is a very irritating small child) (that, by the by, is an example of Redundancy), but not the seats, which are inevitably covered with bits of food and rubbish, which then ruin one’s clothing?

2) If a Bat-Man is a man resembling a Bat, and a Spider-Man is a man resembling a Spider, then what precisely is a Door-Man? A Cow-Boy? A Soccer-Mom?

3) If Peter Petrelli (one of the Beautiful People on the Tele-Vision Entertainment entitled “Heroes”) possesses the power of Invulnerability, how did he get his Scar?

And does it make him look more handsome, or less?

As always, I look forward with delight to your answers about modern life — which, although they do not always lessen my confusion, never fail to bring me much amusement.

Your Humble Servant, and always Exquisite,

Bertram St. James

Greetings! It is I, Bertram St. James, Exquisite — also known as Bertie the Beau. (Because I am. Very.)

Today I shall (attempt to) teach you all how to be more beautiful, more elegant, more….more…how can I put this?

Oh, very well, I’ll say it. More like me. (Which is of course the goal to which you all aspire.)

First, you must shun all cats. Cats have one goal in life, and that is to ensure that you are as covered in cat-hair as they are. This proves that cats are selfish, vain beasts, and do not deserve the company of such beautiful creatures as us.

Second, you must get your beauty rest. Twelve hours a night should do, but if you insist on staying up late to watch the fascinating dramas on the TeleVision Device (such as Heroes, starring the very beau Hayden Panettiere and Sendhil Ramamurthy) and find you only have eleven hours for sleep, do take a nap the following day.

Third, wash your face in cream seven times a day. (This, by the way, is yet another reason not to keep a cat, who will take far too much interest in such a procedure–after which, one’s face is sadly scoured and red.)

Fourth, you must pay your valet well. (Or your lady’s maid, if you are a lady.) Allow your man to sneak a bit of your best brandy — after all, pettiness never won loyalty — but do not allow him to drink too much of it, or you will find your haircuts uneven and your coats poorly brushed.

Fifth, and most important: be born beautiful.

Those, in short, are my guidelines. What are yours? How do you recommend treating your valet (or lady’s maid)? Do you have a cat, and, if so, how do you manage to stay beautiful?

Yours in elegance,

Bertie the Beau

Hello! Cara here. Have you ever had one of those Mondays… You know, the kind after a long and very busy holiday weekend… The kind of Monday when you think, “I’ll go see what Diane posted today on the blog,” and then you do — and then you sit there puzzled for a moment, because you know you read that post yesterday?

The kind of Monday that you suddenly realize is actually Tuesday?

Tuesday… And your day to blog?

Not that that’s ever happened to me.

However, as (coincidentally, of course) it is my day to blog today, and I’m sitting here with my tea (not earl grey, not very hot, but lovely nonetheless) and needing a topic for my post, I shall interview everyone’s favorite Regency time-traveler, Bertram St. James, the self-titled Exquisite.

Welcome, Bertie! How are you today?

Beautiful, of course! But oh, so cold.

Here, I’ll make you some more tea. So, did you enjoy the modern American version of Christmas?

Quite a bit. It was rather like the King’s Birthday — everyone was celebrating. Oh, and the best part was when I saw that Nutcracking Ballet Thing.

I take it you enjoyed it?

Quite a bit! The music was entrancing. I am still humming it. And the grace and elegance of the dancers was a thing of beauty unparalleled in my poor experience. (Dancing was nothing like that during my day, I fear!) However…

However?

Well, I did keep wishing I had seen a more prosperous troupe of performers.

Prosperous? Why do you think these weren’t?

Oh, please. To begin with, the ladies were wearing ragged costumes, which were so old that the skirts had all been (I blush to say) rendered rather shorter than even modern decorum would dictate.

Moreover, it was painfully clear that none of these dancers has had a decent meal in a very long time. I felt compassion every time one of the twig-like ladies stretched her arms upward, as I imagined her imploring the heavens — or perhaps Mr. Santa Clause — to give her a little food. A pizza perhaps. (I adore pizza. It was worth coming to this century purely for pizza. Particularly pizza with pine-apple and anchovies.)

Ah, I hear the kettle whistling. Thank you for joining us here today, Bertie dear! I’ll go make the tea.

My pleasure, as always.

Cara
Cara King, author of My Lady Gamester, and brewer of tea