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Welcome to Back of the Napkin, musings from Serviette for the cultured world. Serviette owes much to the humble napkin. The inclusion of an embroidered serviette with each purchase wasn’t born merely out of aesthetic appreciation (although we do revel in the joy of a crisp handkerchief). The serviette—as well as the very word itself—is an enthralling area of study.
In academic linguist Nancy Mitford’s essay, “The English Aristocracy,” she outlines that the word “serviette” was once a vulgarism, or “non-U” word, meaning it was predominantly used by the upwardly mobile class, while the upper classes favored “napkin,” its “U” counterpart. Within the distinction between "napkin" and "serviette" lies an entire world of social coding—a metaphor for the invisible rules of taste and status.
“The handkerchief, the fan and the little wrist bag are all very much a part of the society woman,” according to a 1902 article in The San Francisco Call. “To handle them well is a triumph of culture.”
The serviette has certainly lost its ubiquity in the modern era—replaced by recycled brown squares of single-ply shoved into a takeout bag—and along with it has disappeared a hidden language and set of rules. Serviette endeavors to unearth some of this etiquette, not necessarily for revival, but as a cultural artifact, one that enriches our understanding of the napkin’s curious role in society.
White, lace-brimmed linen was the standard for formal occasions—to carry a “vivid” handkerchief, or one that was “loudly lettered” or initialed, was considered a faux pas. Though it was once considered improper to show one's handkerchief out of doors at all (it was thought to be an “article of toilet,” after all), this expectation gradually loosened as designs became increasingly elaborate. Handkerchiefs were never to be tucked into the front of a gown or collar, or placed on a table or chair, however.
It was also considered poor form to rub the forehead, head, or hands with one’s hanky. On the whole, one should take great care not to dirty them or use them towards utilitarian aims. The parlor handkerchief was an “ornament,” after all, “not a thing to use.” Additionally, it was ill-advised to “blow the nose with enthusiasm” or “weep with abandon” into one’s handkerchief. (How they managed to survive breakups was anyone’s guess.)
Once every gesture carried social meaning, it was only a matter of time before the handkerchief developed a romantic vocabulary of its own. Handkerchiefs also provided an unbidden landscape for flirtation—unsurprising given their status as the “customary messengers of Cupid.” The association between love and hankies arose in the 1600s and persisted through the Victorian Era. This is perhaps best illustrated by a story in which one of Elizabeth I’s courtiers snatched the Queen’s handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow following a tennis match. His opponent was incensed by such “saucy” behavior, and a fight soon ensued (consider: Challengers goes Tudor). In the 1800s, a bona fide language had developed… To fold your handkerchief, for example, signaled, “I wish to speak to you,” while twisting it in the left hand meant, “I wish to be rid of you.”
Serviette draws our handkerchief across our lips, and we do hope you do the same. We thank you for reading this week’s newsletter and encourage you to consider using your embroidered serviette to flirt, Victorian style.