DEAR MISS MANNERS: As I was going through the closets of my house, I happened across my grandfather's old homburg hat, which had remained undisturbed in its hatbox for many years following his death. As it fit remarkably well and suited me excellently, I took to wearing it out and on special occasions as both an affectation and tribute to the grandfather I never knew.

What is the etiquette associated with a young woman wearing a man's style of hat? Does she follow the rules for ladies (which state that the hat is part of a woman's 'ensemble' and therefore should not be removed even indoors) or gentlemen (which state that the hat comes off inside, in the presence of a funeral procession, when the National Anthem is being played and in innumerable other circumstances?)

What about tipping my hat? Historically, women have never tipped their hats, but men were required to in any number of cases. I don't want to be rude, but I also don't want to cast myself in the role of a man. There seems to be no solid precedent for how to behave while in the other gender's clothing.

GENTLE READER: You will be relieved to hear that wearing a gentleman's hat (note: a baseball cap does not qualify as such) alters neither your gender nor your ladylike manners.

However unfairly, this latitude is not permitted to gentlemen, Miss Manners must point out. A gentleman who is wearing a lady's hat is presumed to be either a transvestite, in which case he employs ladies' manners when so dressed, or drunk, in which case he writes a letter of apology to his hostess.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: One of my co-workers will often stand next to me while I am taking a phone call and wait for me to finish so that she can speak with me. Although business related, I feel very uncomfortable with her listening to my every word and staring at me whilst I finish my business call.

If I look at her to acknowledge that she is waiting, she tries to whisper her message to me while I am still trying to take the business call. Then I end up not fully hearing either message. She can see that I am occupied and I feel that she should send me an e-mail or come back. The question she is waiting to ask me is usually of very low importance.

How do I handle this tactfully? I have tried ignoring her behavior until the client is off the phone, but she still tries to get my attention.

GENTLE READER: Do you have a swivel chair?

The polite "Go away; I'm busy" signal is a regretful smile with an optional shrug of the shoulders to indicate that you will be occupied for a while, so there is no point in waiting.

But you have informed Miss Manners that your co-worker waits anyway, and doesn't just wait quietly, but acts as if you were free to talk to her.

Here is where the swivel chair comes in: After having indicated your helplessness in responding while you are on the telephone, you can swivel around so that your back is toward the entrance, presuming that your colleague has done the right thing and left.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: When I left a job of eight years, my coworkers took me out to lunch on my last day and, back at work, presented me with a beautiful cake. I was stuffed from lunch and made the comment that I would like to wait until later to enjoy some of the cake.

A coworker then informed me that just because I was stuffed didn't mean that the others would not like some cake and that it was my responsibility to cut the cake and serve it to everyone.

I felt like a child being chastised, but completed the job I had been assigned. I've always believed that the guest of honor's only job at a party is to enjoy the celebration. Am I wrong?

GENTLE READER: Yes. Miss Manners supposes that you felt like a child because it is a lesson that is taught to children in connection with their birthday parties.

The lesson is that being the guest of honor does not excuse you from consideration for the other guests. On the contrary, you are indebted to them for honoring you.

So -- do we hug the cake and run off with it to eat all by ourselves when we feel like it? Nooo, dear, we do not.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: With the advent of stadium seating in movies, I have run across a problem. The seat behind now puts that viewer's feet in the middle of the back of my chair. Often I find that people will kick the back of my chair, literally jolting me out of mine.

I understand that I have issues with anxiety and that I am sensitive. However, because the chairs now recline back easily, and sometimes the kick is so swift, I physically go flying.

The last time this happened was in a horror film (I know -- what is a person with anxiety issues doing in a horror film? -- but that aside). I purposely sat where there was no one behind me and would have moved if someone sat down before the movie started.

But then some latecomers sat down and my chair got kicked so hard and the chair so loose, I thought I was a crash test dummy. I am not exaggerating. I turned around and said, "Would you please not kick the back of my chair. You scared me."

Now it is a movie, so I do have to raise my voice simply to be heard. But I started to laugh to let them know that I wasn't angry, just frightened.

The kicker's company gave a dirty look like I was being rude. The kicker himself laughed with me.

The idea of disrupting someone's entertainment really bothers me, but they are disrupting mine.

GENTLE READER: Or adding to it by the sight of you flying out of your chair.

A grin does not really take the sting out of being scolded publicly, even, Miss Manners notes, to someone who is in the wrong. This is why such requests should be paradoxically made in the form of apologies, with a whispered "Sorry, but I'm afraid you're knocking against my chair."

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With all due respect to urgent demands of public health -- yuck!

Miss Manners does recognize that physical danger trumps the ordinary routines of etiquette. She grants that someone drowning may properly shout "Help!" instead of "Please help, if it isn't too much trouble."

She is in total agreement about alerting everyone to develop habits to help lessen the spread of disease. But those who are promoting the sleeve sneeze are assuming that the only alternatives are sneezing into the air or into the sneezer's hands.

Have they never heard of the handkerchief? (Or, for that matter, the sleeveless dress?)

Every civilized person should carry a handkerchief, and the traditional wisdom was that it was preferable to carry two: A gentleman would need a clean one to hand to a lady whom he had caused to cry, and a lady would need a clean one to drop in front of some stranger she wanted to follow her.

Spare handkerchiefs are also handy for such crucial activities as making tourniquets and surrendering. Besides, they can be extremely fetching, with monograms, designs and lace.

Most significantly, the basic working handkerchief is essential for preventing the spread of both disease and disgust.

Previously, the health-conscious have argued against its use, on the grounds that a paper tissue's easy disposability made it more hygienic than a reusable handkerchief. And now they are touting using, and presumably reusing, the exposed-to-all sleeve?

Miss Manners suspects that the problem may be that the handkerchief is a forgotten artifact, and no one knows how to operate it. So here are the instructions.

There must be a fresh handkerchief every day, although if the previous day's one was unused, Miss Manners will not come around to check. Because of the faulty warning system employed by sneezes, it must be kept within easy reach, in an outside pocket or tucked into the cuff or decolletage. The freshly pressed and folded handkerchief is shaken out, time permitting, and the sneeze goes directly into it. It is then not -- repeat, not -- refolded to look pristine, but returned crumpled to its nesting place. Repeat as necessary.

Too hard? Miss Manners is confident that people who manage to carry, operate and whip out their electronic devices, will, with practice, be able to master this.

While we are on the subject of etiquette and public health, she would like to make another adjustment in favor of traditional ways. Could we please stop all the kissing and hugging by way of ordinary greetings?

This silliness is leftover from the naive era of a generation ago, when it was believed that promiscuous demonstrations of affection from acquaintances and strangers were emotionally fulfilling to the recipients. Even aside from the more its vulgar application, faked gestures of love soon became a hazard to respectable people who merely wanted to choose their own snuggle partners.

Well, now we can declare it a health hazard. Miss Manners would like to see a return to the dignified act of shaking hands (with hand-sanitizers to be applied out of sight), but she would settle for a smile and an inclination of the head that leaves the hand free to reach for the handkerchief.

DEAR MISS MANNERS -- My brother is getting married next year and would like cash in lieu of gifts. He is already a homeowner and has everything he needs. What is the correct wording for a request of this nature?

GENTLE READER -- "I have everything I need, but give me your money so I can get more."

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