Did I miss the memo saying that to be ‘posh’ is suddenly to be as socially unacceptable as traffic wardens and sex pests?
Actually did I miss the set of rules that define how posh behaviour and dress is no longer acceptable?
And when did calling someone posh become an insult?
Over recent weeks I’ve noticed a trend niggling away at so-called posh behaviour – its usually categorised as wearing pearl earrings, buying from the Boden catalogue or having the right/wrong buggy.
There’s even a guide posted on a blogger forum this week with a list to tick to say if you’re posh and therefore not a ‘friend’.
That post isn’t a one off, it is in good company, even the BBC (who most people would put at the posher end of the spectrum) have been accused of having a lexicon of abuse against those they perceive as posh.
When did posh become a bad thing?
When did we suddenly get class angst in the virtual world?
When did what we are perceived to be, rather than who we are start to count?
Ok, I admit it, by almost every single one of Sally’s list, I’m posh.
Granite worktops – only because we haven’t got around to ripping out the hideous kitchen this house came with. We have an Aga, presumably that ranks us as mega posh? Ignore the fact that it came with the house and I’ve fought with it for the last three years.
Smart beach used for a Boden shoot – probably, we borrowed my much smarter brother in law’s house for our week of family holiday and yes, its prime Boden country. And you know what, its nice there, really nice and we had a fabulous time.
Kids clothing – yes they wear Boden, mostly bought in the sale, always on a discount code and mixed up with the usual set of shops. And you know what, I like Boden it does nice clothes that aren’t in saccharine pink or with inappropriate slogans. So what?
Living room – wood burning stove, flat screen TV. Probably too much wooden floor to pass this one – that’ll be because I haven’t got around to replacing the rug that didn’t survive my rather too fast home birth… use your imagination here.
Oh and shucks, I have a bugaboo and a Hobbs coat. Oh and I also wear pearl earrings. And I have a Barbour and a pair of hunter wellies.
So presumably I am now no longer a proper blogger, no longer a valid member of this community because I speak in an RP accent because yes, I am middle class and can’t really do anything about it.
But you know what, if people really do care that much then fine – I’ve not been about hiding who I am, this is me people, you can take it or leave it.
If you’re not going to send me to Coventry and ignore me and you’re going to be at The MADs next pop over and introduce yourself – I’m going to be harder to spot now I’ve realised I can’t wear my tiara and furs…