Time to start the social season. Gentlemen, please remove your baseball caps. Ladies, please remove your, ah, baseball caps. And it might be a good idea if all of you could locate your shoes.

Miss Manners' idea of a social season does not consist of parties given to honor a perfume or an illness, worthy and dressy as those events may be. Neither does it consist of "Why don't we catch a movie?" or "Come on by, I think I've got some pizza in the freezer, and if not, we can order in," comforting and easy as those events may turn out to be.

There is nothing wrong with either of these, except that the first isn't really social, and the second is how you spent the summer season. The onset of autumn is supposed to suggest that one could bestir oneself once in a while and do something more.

Didn't we learn that in school? Summer's end brought the resolve that this school year one would keep up with the assignments and never have to go into a panicked frenzy. Applied to social life, it seems to have the same success rate.

Yet people crave change, which is why we have seasons in the first place. Places with insignificant temperature changes may brag about their perfect climates, but even perfection requires contrast to be appreciated. Theirs, which they may neglect to mention at the time, tend to be hurricanes and earthquakes.

(It is also why we have rules to go with the seasons. The white-shoe season is about to end, and Miss Manners doesn't want to hear any flak about it.)

And it is why we still have two popular styles of entertaining, even if they have deteriorated. We used to have Formal and Informal. Now we have Showing Off and Not Bothering. Showing Off is for weddings, proms, business and fund-raising; Not Bothering is for seeing people you really care about for the sheer pleasure of it. Miss Manners finds something wrong with the priorities here.

The argument in favor of not exerting oneself on behalf of family and friends is that it is more casual, comfortable and spontaneous. And she agrees that relaxing among friends is indeed a wonderful thing.

But not when they are so spontaneous that they don't show up when they said they would, or show up when they haven't said with people they haven't mentioned. Or so comfortable that they take telephone calls and watch television instead of talking. Or so casual that they forget to reciprocate or they expect their guests to pay.

The basic rules of hospitality remain in effect regardless of the style. And indeed, people are now being as cavalier about formal events as about informal, although that was not the idea.

Discounting rudeness as an advantage that one can enjoy among friends still leaves not dressing up, not making elaborate arrangements and not planning much ahead. Admittedly, these can all be pleasures. But don't people who share them deserve a treat now and then?

DEAR MISS MANNERS: During the day earlier this summer, I attended an invitation-addressing event for a charity function at the home of a woman in our community. Upon arriving, we walked through the beautifully appointed home to the backyard. We were informed that the hostess "just can't have people in her house," and were directed to sit in the backyard.

Given the importance of the task, I stayed for as long as I could stand the heat and left. I trust that I behaved appropriately, but was there anything else I could have done?

GENTLE READER: Added the lady to your list as a beneficiary. If her house is not fit to receive visitors, or if she is not allowed to bring anyone home, she may be in need of charitable assistance. If she doesn't think others are good enough to be in her house, she needs to acquire some charity.

The hostess's announcement eliminated the possibility that she thought, however mistakenly, that the garden would be more pleasing to her guests. So Miss Manners would not have blamed you for saying (in a gracious tone that seemed to blame your delicate constitution), "I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid I'm a bit warm in your lovely garden; I think I'll take my envelopes home, and drop them by when I'm done. Anyone is welcome to join me."

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am in the awkward position of having the same name and gender as a state senator who lives in my county. On more than one occasion, I have been mistaken for this senator, and while I can easily and gently correct the party verbally when we are face to face, mail correspondence is a bit more delicate.

How should I -- or need I? -- respond to mail invitations which most obviously are not intended for me, or what should I do once having opened my mail and finding this to be the case? What about those invitations where it is difficult to discern if I am truly the intended party or if it is the senator? Must I R.S.V.P. to these and/or correct the issuing party? This can take quite a good deal of time, but I would like your opinion.

GENTLE READER: The way to tell if invitations are intended for you is to look at the name of the hosts. Do you know them?

If you can think of no connection, the invitation is probably not for you. Only fund-raisers and teenagers whose parents are out of town go around inviting people they don't know.

No, wait. Miss Manners forgot about the people who invite strangers who they think will be useful to them. The senator probably gets lots of those, and may also find the hosts useful. You could explain the situation to his office, and promise that if they will send you self-addressed envelopes, you will forward his mail, with the ones you have opened marked "Opened by mistake."

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Recently my boyfriend ended our two-year relationship, which was still long-distance. He has a number of my things, including borrowed clothing and outdoor gear. Usually I'd cut my losses and forget about it, but there are a number of items that were pretty expensive, including a Patagonia fleece ($150), a compass ($80) and some photographs of me that I'd like to keep.

I've asked for this stuff back over the phone, and he has said he will get to it. It's been almost a month now, and I'd like to just get my stuff back soon so I don't have to drag anything out.

I've wondered if it would be terrible to gather up some items he gave me, including a few photos, and package them up for him along with a letter asking him to do the same. I don't want to seem petty and bitter (I am peeved at this man), and I don't really want to call him.

What's the rule on this type of thing? If it's a gift he can keep it, but some of this stuff was not given to him. Additionally, is it rude to return gifts after a breakup?

GENTLE READER: No. Although it is not necessary, except in the case of engagement rings, returning presents and memorabilia is a polite way to indicate that you are peeved. As Miss Manners understands it, you are -- surely the next step after your request was ignored.

It would be even better if you could arrange to have your package delivered by a local friend who is collecting your things for you. Sadly, people are often more reluctant to have strangers see them behaving badly than those whom they once loved.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: As we took our seats for a performance of "La Traviata," a pair of women behind me were having a lively conversation. They continued to talk as the lights dimmed and the overture began. As you know, the overture to "La Traviata" begins quite softly, and since I wished to hear the music, I said, "SHHH!" to ask them to be quiet.

At that point they did stop speaking, but as they did so, one of the women smacked me on the shoulder with her program.

I ignored the incident and listened to the music, but was not entirely comfortable for the rest of the performance. The question is, what should I have done? I realize it is not polite to chastise strangers in public, but it is also not polite to assault people who ask only for ordinary courtesy.

GENTLE READER: Another case of opera rage. Is Miss Manners going to have to call in hockey fans to teach these people how to behave?

You are in somewhat the same position as a driver who makes an impolite gesture to another driver who has provoked him, only to have that driver subsequently run him off the road. Except, of course, that you lived to see Violetta die.

Talking during the overture is rude; shhhing people is rude. The way to quiet talkers is to turn around and give them a regretful look while gesturing toward the orchestra pit, as if you are assuming they did not realize that the performance had started.

Violence takes the altercation down to another level, even when the weapon is an opera program. This you should have reported to the management at intermission, with the request that the pair be removed or that you be given a safer seat.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My husband and I found out we're going to have a baby. We're very excited and have started telling people (even before the completion of the first trimester).

The dilemma is, my brother's wife was expecting and just had their baby the other day. I don't want to take any excitement away from them. Three years ago, we got engaged a few months after them and then married before them, which I felt hurt my brother, and I just want to leave enough time in between their wonderful news and ours. How much time do you suggest?

GENTLE READER: Whew. For a moment there, Miss Manners was afraid you were going to ask her if it would be rude of you to have a baby when the others thought of it first.

Perhaps if you stop thinking of your lives being in competition, they will, too. A welcome way to make the announcement would be to tell them how thrilled you are that the children will have cousins of the same age.

Anyway, what you have is news, while what they have is a baby. Thrilling as your news is, it is not something the family can tickle under the chin.

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