In the 16th century, Castiglione’s The Book of the Courtier instructs the noble how to move with grace at court in order to prove his elevated form of physicality. But what effect does the way we move have on our lives in the 21st century? Does behaviour convey sexuality? Social status? Ambition? And how does the way we carry ourselves change in different situations? Does the bopping street kid’s ‘couldn’t-give-a-fuck’ attitude compare with Castiglione’s advice that a courtier should be sure to ‘practise in all things a certain sprezzatura [nonchalance] …and make whatever is done or said appear to be without effort’?

And what about movement signifying sexuality? From the dapper style of Disraeli’s youthful days, to the overtly ‘homosexual’ movements parodied by duo David Walliams and Matt Lucas’s in Little Britain, the way we carry ourselves can send out some serious romantic signals. But how far is too far? The regulation of how we move is not something that was buried with the Puritanical ban on licentiousness. Recently Beyoncé’s sexual swagger itself was deemed too hot for our screens. The banning of her HEAT perfume advert due to some provocative strutting suggests comportment is still as relevant (and as controversial) as ever to the communication of our intentions.

How about the importance of movement in conveying that ‘certain sprezzatura’ when making first impressions? Unsurprisingly the swinging loved-up ‘60s has the answers for this one. The Portuguese singer-songwriter Vinicius de Moraes observed the evocative power of an unknown girl’s grace in ‘The Girl From Ipanema’, singing that ‘When she walks, she’s like a samba / That swings so cool and sways so gentle’. And Andy Williams’ 1967 hit ‘Music to Watch Girls By’ also stresses the centrality of movement to the games of attraction, laughing that ‘The boys watch the girls while the girls watch the boys who watch the girls go by’.

However, comportment can convey darker ambitions. The struggle for dominance and power is evoked through movement in Shakespeare’s Taming of The Shrew. The recent ADC performance saw Joey Batey’s terrifying portrayal of Petrucio, use movement to invade the space of Sophie Crawford’s shrew (Katarina), ultimately changing her physicality completely, from a defiant strut of independence to cowers of submission. To combat the effects of this type of behaviour, the cult of civility was popularised, and led to the proliferation of publications like Castiglione’s. This method of controlling behaviour was used to protect those subject to the will of others, and therefore inevitably protected women from unwanted forceful advances. Which hopefully doesn’t evoke regret that civility had not saved you this Valentine’s day…

Movement may convey less sinister ambition though. The televised election debates show this, as their novelty guaranteed there could be no guidance from a 21st century Castiglione guide book, yet Nick Clegg conveyed his desperation to be seen as a moderate, with his repeated gesturing, hands spread wide. (How wrong we were.)

But do our mannerisms communicate age and social status? Should (dance) moves come with the warning ‘Not suitable for adults’? Or are there some traditions of behaviour (holding a door open for another, perhaps) which all ages should embrace? Social status can be obvious from a person’s demeanour. The Kenyan Masai Mara would agree, as shown by their practise of the adumu dance, which defines young men’s position in the community based upon the height of their jump. But this is not always the case, as J-Lo insists, that despite her millions she can still act, walk and talk like ‘Jenny from the Block’.

And she may be onto something. Where we’re from and what we want from life may be immediately apparent from our demeanour, which is vital to remember when making those crucial first impressions. Acceptable behaviour swings back and forth with fashion, but take it from the original master of decorum, Castiglione: comportment’s important, as how you move is key to who you are.