My beloved niece is graduating from the U.S. Naval Academy next month. She has invited me to attend her graduation ceremony. Typically, the president, the vice president or one of the president’s cabinet officials addresses the midshipmen and their families as the commencement speaker. But listening to a self-serving speech by any of these individuals would be nauseating for me given our current geopolitical situation. So, I’m inclined to skip the graduation ceremony and to attend the family party afterward. But that means I would miss watching my niece collect her diploma and make her first salute as a commissioned officer. Will she think I chose politics over honoring her achievement?

AUNT

Short answer: yes. Your niece will probably believe that you are prioritizing politics over her graduation if you skip the ceremony and attend the party a little later — because that is precisely what you will be doing. And that may be necessary for you. I am not here to judge your political or moral beliefs. But let me remind you that there is no Republican Navy or Democratic Navy. The armed forces protect all Americans.

Now, I don’t mean to minimize the tremendous influence that a sitting president wields on military matters while in office. And you may object fiercely to the current president’s military choices. But elected officials come and go, and it would be wrong to conflate politicians with the brave men and women who dedicate their lives to defending our country in the armed services. The president may be commander in chief, but only until the next one is sworn into office.

Still, I understand your ambivalence about attending a ceremony that features a speaker with whom you may disagree strongly. So, how about excusing yourself for that portion of the ceremony (provided that the actual speaker this year is objectionable to you)? If attending is still impossible, make sure to explain your absence to your niece in a way that distinguishes politics from the greater cause to which she is dedicating her young life.

Sometimes a Stop Isn’t Just to Smell the Roses

I was walking my dog on a leash recently when he stopped to sniff some flowers at the edge of a neighbor’s yard. My dog was standing on the public sidewalk. My neighbor asked me to stop my dog from doing that. She said it attracted other dogs. I figured she couldn’t see that my dog wasn’t peeing, so I said, “Oh, he’s just sniffing.” My neighbor replied, “This is not a dog park,” and turned away. This same neighbor has spoken to me harshly about my dog before. What is the best way to respond?

DOG MOM

Over decades of walking a string of much-loved dogs, I have observed that sniffing — flowers, sticks, bird poop on the sidewalk — can turn to peeing in a split second. And dog urine can kill flowers. So, despite your sound argument that your dog was not trespassing and your dislike of your neighbor’s snippy tone, focus on being a good neighbor: Keep your dog moving briskly past this neighbor’s yard.

Responsible dog owners are sometimes forced to pay for the sins of irresponsible ones. Your neighbor seems to dislike dogs, and it’s unlikely that you will convince her to make an exception for yours.

Commiseration Addict? Cut Off His Supply.

I need help with a co-worker. He is very effective in his position, but he complains nonstop — particularly about his workload. But the reason he has so much work is that he volunteered to take on additional duties. I’ve told him to speak with our supervisor. She is supportive and would reassign some of his work. How do I tell my co-worker to stop complaining? I’ve tried to be compassionate, but my patience is wearing thin.

CO-WORKER

In my experience, chronic complainers thrive on sympathy, and they often prefer the martyrdom of complaint to an actual solution to their problems. I have found a gentle clapback to be effective here. Say: “I’ve already told you how to fix this problem. Have you spoken to our supervisor yet?” (Spoiler: He probably hasn’t.) And he may not stop complaining entirely, but he will stop complaining to you.

Count Your Blessings, This Isn’t About You

Last week, we saw paramedics and then the police and then a hearse at our neighbors’ townhouse. I texted the couple to ask if they were OK and to offer our help. We are casually friendly with them. (We’ve had dinner in each other’s homes.) I have seen lots of family at the house this week, but we still don’t know who died: husband or wife. There has been no obituary online. Should I back off and let it go that they don’t want our family informed?

NEIGHBOR

I may be misreading your letter, but you seem to be more curious about what happened next door than broken up over the death of a neighbor. Your last line suggests that you are taking the situation personally, but the death has nothing to do with you! The grieving survivor has more on his or her mind right now than informing everyone who ever dined with them of the loss. Back off, and wait until you see an obituary or the surviving spouse to express your condolences.

For help with your awkward situation, send a question to SocialQ@nytimes.com, Philip Galanes on Facebook or @SocialQPhilip on X.

King Charles III talked eloquently of its historic importance in his speech to a joint session of Congress. President Trump praised it in his toast at the state dinner for the king’s visit to Washington. But nowhere was the special relationship between the United States and Britain more obvious than in the wardrobes of Queen Camilla and Melania Trump. They didn’t just compliment each other. They looked complementary.

Their husbands may have dressed to represent their offices, the king in his trademark Savile Row pinstripes, pocket handkerchief nattily puffed, the president in his red, white and blue. But the women, in their multiple outfits, did a lot of the subliminal work, practically shouting through their seams “hands across the ocean.” For a story that would be told mostly in photo ops and brand values — Trump brand, royal brand, fashion brands — that mattered.

In this at least the queen and the first lady seemed visibly on the same page. And while that may have been expected from Camilla, whose job is built on and defined by symbolism, it was more of a surprise from Mrs. Trump, who often seems as interested in pursuing her own agenda and protecting her privacy (all those hats and coats) as she is in supporting her husband’s or catering to the public eye.

Which may reflect not only the first couple’s well-known esteem for the royals, but also how much the royals understand and can leverage their appeal to the Trumps.

The sartorial outreach started as soon as the king and queen deplaned on Monday, Camilla in a light pink Dior coatdress — Dior being one of Mrs. Trump’s go-to designers and the brand she wore on the first day of her state visit to Britain. Dior, as it happens, is also synonymous with well-appointed luxury. Owned by the French billionaire Bernard Arnault, the chairman of LVMH and a guest at the Trump inauguration, the label is designed by Jonathan Anderson, who is from Northern Ireland. In other words, it ticks both the diplomatic protocol box and the Trump taste box.

And if that wasn’t bonding enough, a Cartier pin on the coatdress Camilla wore had been given to Queen Elizabeth II in 1957 on her first official visit to the United States and features a conjoined Union Jack and Stars and Stripes, a reminder of just how long this particular allyship has existed.

It set the tone for the trip.

The women also mirrored each other’s choices in shade (springlike) and sourcing (local designers) at their first meeting on Monday. The first lady wore a buttery yellow form-fitting skirt suit by Adam Lippes, the New York designer who made her inauguration coat, and the queen, a white Anna Valentine coatdress edged in floral embroidery.

Which turned out to be simply a prelude to the official military greeting the next day, when Mrs. Trump wore white (Ralph Lauren) and Camilla’s mint green look by Fiona Clare, a London couturier, was so pale it seemed white. And the similarities didn’t stop there. The outfits had similar nipped-in besuited lines and were topped with wide-brimmed straw hats that almost matched.

Even more strikingly, Camilla wore another historic piece of jewelry: the Cullinan V brooch, which features an 18.8-carat heart-shaped diamond, one of nine stones cut from the 3,000-carat Cullinan diamond originally given to Edward VII. (Two other Cullinan diamonds were incorporated into the British royal scepter and the imperial crown of Britain.) It was a souvenir from the notional vaults of Buckingham Palace, the place Mr. Trump posted he “always wanted to live,” and a canny nod to the president’s admiration for royal trimmings — and the equation of size with importance.

Still, perhaps no images were as striking in their subtext as those unveiled Tuesday night at the first white-tie state dinner since 2007.

That was when the first lady opted for a light pink strapless gown, also by Dior, just like Camilla’s pink arrival coat. (Coincidence? Doubtful.) And it wasn’t any old pink; it was delphinium pink, delphinium being one of the king’s favorite flowers. (Notably, the dress was custom-made, like Mrs. Trump’s Ralph Lauren suit before it. Clearly, designers no longer have any reservations not only about seeing their clothes bought by the Trumps, but also about working with the Trumps.)

Camilla was also in pink, albeit more of a fuchsia shade, again by Fiona Clare, this time paired with an enormous amethyst and diamond necklace that once belonged to Queen Victoria. The king may have given the president a golden bell as a dinner gift and offered a toast that was a master class in tact, but the queen in her opulent gems gave him something else: the opportunity to feel like royalty for a night.

Fashion, it turns out, can be as effective a tool when it comes to flattery as any words.