And the more you try to, the more it screams "cheap".
But then, there's no helping some people.
We're in the process of dismantling my grandmother's home in order to eventually rent it out. Towards that end, we've reached out to various relatives, asking if they need/want anything as anything given away is one less bag of sh*t we gotta carry.
An uncle and his girlfriend came by last week, and it was a fairly lovely occasion. They left with a small library of books (which seemed to barely scratch the surface of decades of book-hoarding, but a good start). It was satisfying because they were obviously quite thrilled at their finds, and that was sweet.
This week, though, another pack of relatives showed up. What was once love and amity seems to have fizzed off into political extremism and falling under malign influences. I'm not at all a fan of the man my aunt's living with, as I believe he is a manipulative, chauvinistic, narcissistic manipulator.
He's also the type of person who, having grown up in poverty worships any kitschy object that looks expensive. And so my aunt and relatives diligently set to work eyeing anything and everything that might look high-brow and "old money". In a way, that was even worse. Seeing them so desperate to please this asshole. My aunt and her kids who were once artistic and classy and elegant. It was crass and depressing.
Except that's the trouble with people like this, they'll never pass for so-called old money, since they lack the primary ingredient. Class.
And in the words of Lemmy,
You might buy half of the nation,
But you can't buy class.
And this individual certainly lacks the means for half the nation. Which isn't to say my own grandmother was "old money". She had a nice house, she was proud of her house and was a clever woman who drove a hard bargain. She amassed some things after having to pull herself and her children out of the dirt when my grandfather split. She was a marvelous woman.
Her house, though, is mostly filled with old-timey, somewhat kitsch china, paintings and dishware that passed for classy in Communist times. So it's not really all that.
There was this hideous brassy wine glass set that both I and a friend rejected. This guy just scooped them up. Anything with gold on it. Any book that might "look smart" that he'd never in a million years crack. Every tableau that looks like a heirloom. Any pot, china bowl or anything that might look expensive, he wanted.
It was sad and amusing at the same time, in a way. Especially since I knew it was only the illusion of class. It's the sort of mentality where you think you can bulldoze, pawn, and weasel your way into the elite, but all you're doing is making a fool of yourself.
There's some people who think that if they lay out the fancy china, their dinner guests will mistake them for lords. With the smell of chicken shit drifting in from the hen-house? I don't think so, baby.
Which isn't to talk shit of people raising chickens. Living near the earth, close to nature, that's life. That's good life, too. It's honest, it's healthy, it's everything, you know? But when you're cleaning after the chickens and imagining yourself at the snooker table in your club with Lord so-and-so? Don't get much more fake or deluded than that. It's the antithesis of the simple, rustic life you're pretending to love.
While they were hounding through the house, I set aside some nice glasses for a friend. She didn't care it wasn't crystal (these people tested to see if they were getting crystal glasses. Only the best will do, eh?). She didn't care they weren't a complete set. She just wanted something nice to drink a bit of champagne out of with her partner. Simple. Honest. And classier than the whole pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, you know?
But then, I think it's also to do with the company you keep, you know? If you plan on inviting over other deluded pricks who check out the expensive books in your library or frown if you're serving them in mismatched dishware, then you better keep digging, honey.
