Where's your handkerchief?

empty suits by paul goyette

In medical school, I decided that I needed a handkerchief. I consulted my local etiquette expert, who graciously approved of some unadorned, patterned, white, cotton handkerchiefs. Since then, my collection has exploded to 12 or 13 now. I've lost count, as I have also lost a few.

The reasons for carrying around a handkerchief are many in number and elegantly summed up by none other than Miss Manners, but for those who would like my take on it, here it goes.

When I was young, I went to a private school where we wore a blazer every day, and my mom made sure to tuck into my coat pocket a wad of tissues, whether I was sick or not. It took me over a decade to realize that these tissues were not for me, but were to offer to others. A gentleman did not go out into the world without having some sort of tissue product.

In Korea, there is a very pragmatic reason. Most public bathrooms lack both toilet paper and paper towels. Many people in Korea carry around a packet of toilet paper and a handkerchief to dry hands after washing. In the Western world, handkerchiefs are for wiping noses and blotting tears.

The rule is that a gentleman should carry two handkerchiefs. One is for personal use. The other is to offer to others. So, it is a good idea to keep one clean, neatly folded, and easily accessible should the need arise.

Med school was when I realized that people cry a lot, and for many different reasons. Sometimes, it is from sadness, sometimes joy, sometimes allergies. And the tissue, although pragmatic, is a poor substitute on these occasions. Nothing feels more empty than handing someone a box of tissues. It feels much more meaningful to offer a handkerchief, an item so perfectly suited to the task.

So, whenever I see someone crying, I offer them my handkerchief. In my mind, it is the only suitable tool for the wiping of tears. As a result, I have lost several handkerchiefs. I have to admit, it hurts a little to lose one, since the average cotton handkerchief runs about $2-3, but at least I can sleep at night knowing I've done my gentlemanly duties.