This Side of the Pond

One of the more common stereotypes about the British is that we have a tendency to be snobbish. I would argue that most of us aren’t, but I’m not going to deny there is a certain sector of society that embraces the sensation of looking down on the choices of others.

I’ve never been particularly interested in whether or not Lady Something-or-Other likes my socks, but I did have a revelation this week when society magazine “Tatler” released its latest list of the things that one is and is not allowed to be snooty about.

As I’m positive you’ve made it this far in life without being subjected to the knowledge it exists, Tatler is a magazine for the kind of person who could afford to buy a copy that had been plated in pure gold. It’s designed to be a helpful guide to fashion, jet-setting and consumption for lords, ladies and landed gentry, so I confess that I’m not on intimate terms with its contents page.

What I can tell you, though, is that Tatler is packed with the kind of advice that neither you nor I will ever find useful. For example, I shouldn’t have thought we will find ourselves wishing for guidance on how to “navigate the school gates alongside a royal parent” or “style it out if you fall over on a private jet,” and we don’t need to know the 12 rules of visiting a royal baby or that artichokes should never be served at dinner parties larger than six.

Mind you, falling over on a plane is a more likely scenario for me than actually getting to fly in a private jet, so perhaps I should give that one a read.

I am especially sure that I don’t fit Tatler’s definition of “upper class” because I do not meet most of the 26 criteria they published a few weeks ago. I do not, for instance, have live-in staff (unless you count the husband, who certainly does not count himself) or my own driver.

I do not bow instead of shaking hands, I don’t book the “private room” in a restaurant (or just the whole thing if they don’t offer such a convenience), I have never paid for a new hospital wing and I have not invested in a private jet company (they really do love their one-family planes, don’t they?)

Alas, I am not posh enough to understand Tatler, which further explains why I do not understand exactly what makes certain things worth being snobbish about while other things are not. While I don’t for a moment condone snobbery towards one’s fellow man, I suppose I can see the benefits of staying informed when it comes to etiquette.

Once a year, Tatler feels it necessary to publish lists of the things one should or not express snobbery towards, because posh people apparently cannot figure this out for themselves. Of the two lists, I find Tatler’s compilation of the things I am no longer allowed to be snobbish about easier to digest than the ones I’m supposed to be snobbish about, because I never had strong feelings towards most of these things in the first place.

I am thus relieved to confirm that I have never turned my nose up at rescue dogs and I don’t have much investment one way or the other in shop-bought baby food or small cars.

I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t be partial to screw-top wine, but maybe most people are more adept with a corkscrew than I turned out to be. Outdoor heaters also seem like a strange direction in which to hurl one’s displeasure.

Astrology isn’t for me, but I don’t feel inclined to judge when other people do it, and the same goes for open marriages. I suppose I can grudgingly agree with Tatler’s opinion that draughty drawing rooms are not ok, on the other hand.

We are also apparently no longer allowed to be judgmental about digital invitations to events, flowers bought from the supermarket, parmesan on seafood pasta, parties where you are asked to bring-your-own-bottle and…pillows. I don’t know what these people were using instead of pillows while they were still listed as an item of derision, but it sure doesn’t sound comfortable to be hoity toity.

So what are we supposed to be snobby about these days instead? Well, the men seem to be getting the short end of the stick this go-around as we are expected to curl our lips at them if they wear necklaces, red trousers, Birkenstocks or gilets and we’re also supposed to be snobbish about men’s shoes in general and brown shoes in particular.

Just to be clear, I’m not sure how we are supposed to go about being snobbish towards these things, because this isn’t a skill taught in ordinary British schools. For the lack of any better ideas, I’m going to suggest we gasp in alarm whenever we see a pair of shoes and then leap into the arms of the person next to us like Scooby Doo in the face of danger.

Indoor plants are now also supposedly a thing of horror, as is gold leaf on food and chipped nail polish. Fair enough, but anyone who thinks it’s ok to be a snob about being asked to take off your shoes when entering the house clearly doesn’t get to the door by crossing a yard that belongs to seven dogs.

Tatler also wants us to judge anyone who displays a Christmas card from a royal, which seems a bit specific. This, again, is unlikely to be a situation we encounter on this side of the ocean. Not even I get one from Her Majesty, and I’ve said some really nice stuff about her over the years.

Tatler does not want us to like “influencers,” or Prosecco, or self-help books. We’re not even allowed to like fake-flower décor or weddings that feature hay bales.

I mentioned at the beginning of this column that Tatler and its lists caused me to have an epiphany. It was about the only reaction they’re likely to elicit, as I simply don’t have the patience to not only check whether other people have real flowers in their homes, but then think negative thoughts about them if they don’t.

However, the epiphany was quite sufficient. I realized while perusing the list of things that posh people consider to be worth thinking about that I can’t help but look down my own nose at anyone who feels it’s worth having an opinion on whether someone else uses the word “toilet” or not. I guess British snobbery isn’t a class-limited trait after all.