DEAR MISS MANNERS: Folks all over seem to pay a lot of attention to the dresses (or lack thereof) actresses wear to the Oscars ceremony every year. I admit I pay more attention to what the men are wearing.

Many of the men, indeed, seem to be crying out for attention by having an obvious "outfit" put on them, instead of just getting dressed for the occasion. Last year, every other man seemed to be dressed for a funeral.

I refer to the black four-in-hand with what otherwise appears to be a dinner jacket. Offenders seemed to be taking the phrase "black tie" too literally. To discourage the funereal trend in other venues, should we rephrase our invitations to say "black bow tie"?

It also appears, from the evidence offered by actors and world leaders alike, that men's cuffs are disappearing under apelike, too-long jacket sleeves. A good half-inch of white cuff should always show (unless, perhaps, when you're in uniform). It's not hard to do all of this right, guys -- just follow the lead of Sidney Poitier and Woody Allen. At least they make it look easy.

GENTLE READER: You and Miss Manners should watch the Academy Awards together -- not just to share a shudder over those ghastly attempts at fooling with the correct details of gentlemen's clothing.

It is also because anyone else would think you were crazy to scorn the actors who wear those dour and otherwise strange outfits for failing to get it "right" and seeming, instead, "to be crying out for attention."

Well, of course, they are. That's the point. Both their profession and the occasion all but demand it.

In polite society, gentlemen pride themselves on the correctness and fine tailoring of their evening clothes, so looking conspicuous would constitute failure. (Ladies have the harder task of looking noticeable without being lewd.) This is why the Academy Awards show is a good opportunity to make funny comments and a bad one to pick up fashion tips.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I was always brought up to follow a lady directly behind and to the side as we made our way into a room and through a civilized crowd, sometimes, if necessary, guiding her with my hand at the small of her back. This has always worked well in relatively un-crowded places.

But what of dense and/or unruly crowds such as those in jammed nightclubs or sporting events? My inclination has been to take her by the hand and lead her through such crowds, both to assume the burden of countless "excuse me's" and to shoulder a path so that she would not be jostled. Is there a rule here or should I make a judgment on a case-by case basis?

GENTLE READER: You have been taking "ladies first" too literally: A gentleman is supposed to lead the way through a dense crowd, rather than use your method of shoving her from behind. That is the general rule. As for when to hold hands, Miss Manners is afraid that you must decide that, as you say, on a case-by-case basis.

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When two minor business trends were recently reported at the same time, Miss Manners was disappointed not to find a theory stringing them together. She always enjoys learning how the economy will be permanently affected by what toddlers want for Christmas this year and where interns are going for lunch.

One trend is that people who have been working for themselves out of their homes, freelancing or running their own small businesses, are said to be applying for the types of jobs, complete with set hours, offices and bosses, that they had been glad to escape.

The other is that the home-like accommodations and perks that had been offered to soften the terms of such jobs, such as stylistic informality and expense-account sociability, are being cut back.

Anyone can posit an economic connection here: Hard times mean that people want steady incomes and that businesses stop offering frills. Miss Manners is fishing for something with a cultural implication.

In keeping with the social sciences tradition of using any available evidence to bolster one's own prejudice (an example being trends simultaneously used to prove that children of stay-at-home mothers are either better off or worse off), she concludes that people are finally realizing that we went too far in making the home productive and the workplace homey.

There are undeniable advantages, she admits, to getting things done at home and goofing off at work. Furthermore, the antiquated structure of the American workplace, which still operates on the assumption that a worker has no personal responsibilities and someone who does has no need of earning a living -- the two being married to each other -- makes this necessary.

Nevertheless, the clacking of office equipment, the constant telephone availability and the squelching of innocent activities at the slightest indication that they might interfere with work are bound to get on the nerves of people who hold the old-fashioned view that home is a place to relax and enjoy the company of family and friends. Meanwhile, the parties, gift exchanges and other pressures to treat colleagues as if they were family or friends are bound to annoy those who hold the old-fashioned view that work is a place to get work done.

There is also something demoralizing about the disorientation these hybrids create. Putting on one's professionalism, in behavior and dress, can be invigorating, as those who work at home in their bathrobes eventually concede. At the very least, this exercise provides the relief of shedding the crisp for the cozy upon returning home.

Miss Manners is sadly aware that until society recognizes that everyone needs to earn a living and everyone needs to have a personal life, everyone will be caught between the two. The satisfaction of working at home and socializing at work are both sabotaged by knowing that one is doing full justice to neither realm.

As an interim measure until workplace reform catches up with daily life, Miss Manners rejoices to see ersatz socializing being cut from the work routine. The next step should be to hand over to the workers the time saved, especially that from evening gatherings and weekend retreats, for their own true personal use.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: What is the polite way one goes about eventually learning the last name of a new acquaintance?

As much as it used to be the case that one would first introduce oneself by one's last name and only reveal one's first name under more intimate circumstances, it is now the custom in most social circles to introduce oneself solely by the first name. I find myself generally reduced to the subversive tactics of finding some list in which the name is written or asking a third mutual acquaintance who happens to know, but surely etiquette has a better solution.

GENTLE READER: You might ask at the time of the introduction. Miss Manners finds that most people remember their own surnames when prompted, even if they haven't used them for years.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I brought a bottle of coconut rum to a gathering of close friends at a friend's house, and got caught in the middle of a "Which Bottle is Mine?" dilemma.

Another friend brought an identical bottle. Throughout the evening, everyone was enjoying their drinks (responsibly, of course). When it came time to go home, the other person told me how she "would take her bottle home since it wasn't opened."

Whether or not the unopened bottle is the one I brought or the one she brought is irrelevant in my opinion. While I don't see myself as a greedy person, was it a little presumptuous to assume the bottle that everyone used for mixed drinks was "mine" and the unopened bottle was "hers?"

GENTLE READER: Annoying as this was, Miss Manners cannot advise you to grab back the bottle and say, "No, that's mine! Mine, mine, mine!"

But if she is correct in assuming that you are more annoyed at having a dirty trick pulled on you than you are disappointed not to go home with your rum, she does have recourse to suggest. Say, pleasantly but loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Oh, I thought it was mine, and I was going to leave it for our host to enjoy."

DEAR MISS MANNERS: When someone sneezes around me, I say "God bless you." But when a person continues to sneeze three or four times after that, is it still appropriate to say "God bless you," or is the first one sufficient enough?

GENTLE READER: The correct sequence is:

1. "God bless you."

2. "Bless you again."

3. "Are you all right?"

4. (and thereafter) "Don't you think you should be home in bed?"

DEAR MISS MANNERS: When I was in college I met the one girl in my life that I will never be able to forget. We were engaged, but she broke it off realizing we were both too young to follow through with such a serious commitment. We continued to see each other after college as very close friends.

Several years ago, we lost contact with each other and last month I found out that she died. Since I have finally admitted to myself that I never really got over her, I am devastated by the news.

Now I am trying to sort out all of my feelings surrounding her death. I find myself trying to find out the details of how she died and what her life was like since we lost contact, but it's been impossible to find out anything. I am considering writing to her parents to ask them my questions. Is that appropriate? I feel like I might be intruding on their privacy, but my urge to find out about her is constantly tugging at my heart.

GENTLE READER: Far from being an invasion of privacy, a letter of condolence to the bereaved is a kindness.

That is what you mean to send, Miss Manners trusts: a letter expressing your sympathy and your admiration, and omitting "So -- was she seeing anyone?" and "Did she regret losing me?" If you show a loving interest in the lady's life without sharing your misgivings, you may be sure that her parents will be only too glad to talk about her with you.

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