If you ask me to take off my shoes you’re stepping into trouble

When you’re walking through a social minefield, do you do it barefoot, in stockinged feet, or fully shod? Even in these live-and-let-live times, the question of when to remove your shoes remains fraught with rules, rules that should never be broken.

This week, President Trump met leaders of the Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCU). The college presidents were pristinely dressed, all suited and booted. I have no idea what the purpose of their meeting was – and I suspect you don’t either – because all coverage has been of Trump adviser Kellyanne Conway’s knees-akimbo, heels-dug-in position on the Oval Office sofa.

I don’t mind admitting I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time trying to work out how she got off the sofa without a) ripping into the cowslip yellow silk damask with her heels and b) showing her pants to the profs.

Her defenders, like indulgent parents everywhere, explained that she was just trying to take a nice picture. It reminds me of when my tiny nephew got hold of a camera at my wedding and produced a reel of film (this was the olden days) of people’s knees and we all had to pretend that was adorable, too.

And yet there are many photographs of Barack Obama with his feet on the Oval Office desk and I don’t find those inappropriate. He looked insouciant and, well, hot.

Is this some kind of sexist double standard? I don’t think so. It’s about appropriateness. All of us have family manners and public manners. For example, it’s acceptable to put your feet up on your own armchair, but not on a seat on the train. It’s fine to slummock about the house in your pyjamas surrounded by your beloveds on Sunday morning; to do the same when guests arrive for Sunday lunch makes you look mad, sick or rude.

It was fine for Obama to put his feet on the desk because, in those pictures, he’s surrounded by close colleagues. But in Conway’s case, it looks like showing off, demonstrating to the guests that having them there was no biggie.

When there’s no one else in the room, who cares if the Oval Office appears less White House, more Animal House, with KFC buckets everywhere and Steve Bannon looking like he’s just come in from washing the car? But when you have company, brush up, straighten up, have some manners.

And while we’re on the shoes-and-manners thing, let’s not forget the biggest divide of all: shoes on/shoes off for visitors to your home.

I have Scandinavian and Russian friends whose childhood footwear memories are scarred by visions of knee-high slush until spring. Their requests to remove shoes on entering their houses seem culturally appropriate and I comply happily.

But when British people insist on it, it ticks me off. It feels unwelcoming, tiresomely suburban, and sends a subliminal message that they care more for their carpets than their friends. Making guests remove footwear is the very opposite of kick-off-your-shoes informality. And it has meant that over the years I have been exposed to sights of pure horror from which a polished pair of brogues would have protected me.

Once again, it feels like life would be much simpler if we all just listened to granny: the essence of good manners is always to put your guests’ feelings ahead of your own. Think on that, Kellyanne.