The code of feminine politeness, instilled in girlhood, is no help in dealing with the unwanted approaches of strange men. Our mothers didn’t teach us to tell a man to get lost; they told us to smile and hint that we' d be just delighted to spend time with the gentleman if we didn’t have other commitments. The man in the Oak Room bar would not be put off by a demure lowering of eyelids; he had to be told, roughly and loudly, that his presence was a nuisance. Not that I am necessary against men and women picking each other up in pubhc places. In most instances, a small a mourn of sensitivity will tell a woman or a man whether someone is open to approaches. Mistakes can easily be corrected by the kind of courtesy so many people have abandoned since the 'sexual, revolution'. One summer evening, I was whiling away a half hour in the outdoor bar of the Stanhope Hotel. I was alone, dressed up, having a drink before going on to meet someone in a restaurant. A man at the next table asked, 'If you' re not busy, would you like to have a drink with me? 'I told him I was sorry but I would be leaving shortly. 'Excuse me for disturbing you, 'he said, turning back to his own drink. Simple courtesy. No insults and no hurt feelings. One friend suggested that I might have avoided the incident in the Oak Room by going to the Palm Court instead. It’s true that the Palm Court is a traditional meeting place for unaccompanied ladies. But I don’t like violins when I want to talk. And I want to sit in a large, comfortable, leather chair. Why should I have to hide among the potted palms to avoid men who think I' m looking for something else? What is the author’s attitude towards the traditional instruction of feminine politeness?