How posh is your house? If you own these things, probably very
+5 points for glasses which aren’t stolen from your local pub
Home is where the heart is. But it’s also where the slow cooker, the salt crystal lamps and the really nice set of cheeses you got down the farmer’s market are.
According to Tatler, the things you have in your home can tell exactly how posh you are. This week they published their “How posh is your house?” guide, geared at the profligate middle-aged middle-classes.
But what of our generation? How can the Home Counties-born uni student or the trust fund London grad work out exactly how posh their Durham house or Clapham flat is? We’ve compiled our own handy manual – see for yourself how you fit.
The obvious one. There’s nothing posher than turning your courgette or your squash or even your broccoli stems into watery, unfulfilling ribbons which would make Deliciously Ella proud.
Deduct points if it’s a flimsy plastic one you have to twist like a pencil sharpener. Add points if it has a robust handle you have to turn like you’re operating an old-fashioned printing press.
Maybe they’re pointlessly tall champagne flutes; maybe they’re those cavernous goblets which make you feel like a real mid-twenties professional with a functional drinking problem.
Shit, they could just be some thick-bottomed whisky tumblers you picked up in a four pack from Debenhams. At your age, owning glasses which weren’t stolen from your local pub is an immediate sign of class.
If you’re still at uni, they’ll be from Jo Malone. If you’re over that hump, they’ll be from a street market and there’ll be bits of cinnamon and rosemary and potpourri mummified in the wax.
Either way, you paid more than was worth it for a dim and sputtering piece of shelf furniture that makes your room smell like hand lotion and tiger balm.
What do you mean this soap isn’t worth £35? It’s from Molton Brown, I’ll have you know, and there’s real black pepper in it. So what if I smell like a raw steak, Esquire told me its exfoliating qualities were next to none.
A Le Creuset pot
The heavier it is, the posher you are.
They’ve become a hipster cliché in cocktail bars from Dalston to Peckham, but don’t think that means mason jars are over: they’re still alive and well in middle class grad flats, housing wholewheat spaghetti and berry granola and, well, anything that will fit in them and look nice sandwiched in between the Nutribullet and the knife rack.
The same goes for glass water bottles, which will be filled from a hidden Brita and then chilled in the fridge. They just look more aesthetic, you know.
A plastic bottle of Tesco oil-with-rosemary won’t cut it: you’re going to need a glass flagon of chilli oil with actual shrivelled chilli peppers resting in the murky depths, or a white china container of lemon-infused olive oil your parents brought back from Sicily.
It washes the dishes for you?
Any kind of outside space is opulent, no matter how many weeds or broken bottles or syringes there may be out there. If you’ve got a garden in 2017, you may as well be part of the aristocracy.
A dog (on weekends)
He’s got an adorable little person name like Archie or Frankie or Rufus, and he wears an even more adorable tiny dog Barbour when your parents bring him down from Surrey or Hertfordshire on a Saturday afternoon.
Oh, isn’t it just adorable to have Otto down for the day, you’ll say. Then he’ll do a shit in the corner of your flat, and you’ll start prompting mum and dad to make their excuses and take the little bastard back from whence he came.
So you mean it’s like, a smaller but fancier duvet that rests on top of the bottom half of the duvet for show? Oh, OK.
Any mug can buy conditioner. But deep conditioner, the kind that comes in a tub and only needs to be used once a fortnight and does to hair follicles what the blood of virgins does to evil witch queens in old-fashioned fairytales? That’s a posh person’s game.
It’s how they get their hair so shiny, don’t you know.
A sheepskin rug
Especially if you don’t freak the fuck out when someone spills merlot on it.
Some of them are stitched with flowers; some of them have pictures of cats or sassy embroidered slogans on them.
All of them spend most of the time on your bedroom floor since you first realised you can’t sleep well on top of a solid foot deep of decorative headrests.
Magazines are now something you buy at the airport, or to read on the train if you know you’re going to be out of WiFi for a bit. After all, the internet has afforded us access to Dior Sauvage adverts and articles on the best cocktail bars in Copenhagen anytime, anywhere, for free.
Thus, when your copy of Gentleman’s Journal or Italian Vogue or the New Statesman comes thudding through the letterbox in a plastic bag, you know it’s the sound of profligacy, and that you’ll flick through the first 10 pages before leaving it on your kitchen table so all your visitors know you have money to waste.
Don’t listen to the pretenders who think it’s all about pink Himalayan – they’re pretenders. This is, in fact, the real shit.
Alcohol which isn’t for immediate consumption
No, your battered-and-sellotaped cardboard crate of Buds from the Sainsbury’s reduced fridge doesn’t count. Neither does the half-drunk bottle of Gordon’s someone left after a predrinks two weeks ago.
Get a litre of Sipsmith that you keep above the fridge, then we’ll talk.
An Ottolenghi cookbook
Quite possibly one of the most gorgeous cookbooks I own. Plenty by @ottolenghi is beautifully photographed & each recipe full of incredible ingredient combinations. I've been eyeing this book of ALL vegetable ??????recipes on Amazon for a while and am so happy I finally have it for my collection ? You guys will be seeing lots of these recipes in the future!
It’s that or a Hemsley + Hemsley one.
An expensive cylindrical speaker which is always on
It sits on the bookshelf, so every time you walk into the room you can just pop on your Spotify and play whatever Chance the Rapper ditty you damn well please.
Only occasionally does it do that bah-dah-dum sound which means it’s run out of battery, and you only allow yourself to get mildly annoyed about the inconvenience of having to charge it.
What used to be an obvious living room mainstay is now a needless extravagance, used only to display a crackling fire backdrop at winter dinner parties or for when you want whatever you’re watching on Netflix to be a bit bigger and further away.
Any other lampshade than this
A living room
Yep, it’s a luxury.