I've come to realize I'm high-class in attitude only.
Today at lunch, I strolled the Whole Foods with BL (Boss Lady) and I was totally intimidated. By the selection of high-falluting foods and accessories, by the wealthy SAHMs and their kids in designer strollers and their coach diaper bags, by the number of foods that I could not identify by package or even by name. Give me a good old Stop & Shop with kraft food products, pre-packaged dinners, and aisle-side coupon dispensers. I'll take my A&P with bright flourescent lighting and give back the flattering subdued soft light and quaint floor tiles of Whole Foods.
The truth is, I'm such a snob, that I need to be able to shop in a place where I can look DOWN on the the shopping conditions. I need to be able to laugh at the mis-spellings on the aisle signs, snort in disgust when I can never find someone at the meat counter, and dispair at the quality of the 99-cent greeting cards. It does not serve my interests to feel "less than" when I am shopping for frozen pizza and bagged salad.
This is likely the reason I don't shop at Nordstroms either. At Kohls, Target, Macy's or Annie Sez there is piped in scratchy pop music - at Nordstrom's there is a live piano player - seriously? a live piano player? I mean THAT is intimidating.
I have a lovely woman who has been cleaning my home for the past 7 years. I cannot be home when she is there, because I can live with the snobbishness of having someone scrub my toilets, but I cannot be there to observe it and feel like I am contributing to a class society.
I can take a car service to the airport, but I have to carry my own bags and I have to be chatty cathy with the drivers (despite the language gaps), because despite my sense of entitlement in being driven curbside to curbside for my own convenience I can't possibly be rude enough to treat the driver as a second class citizen.
My clothes are mostly 10 years old. My shoes are from Payless. I do my own nails because I haven't been able to find a salon where I feel comfortable having someone else clean my nails and scrub dead cells from the bottom of my feet. My quality jewelry is hand-me-down or gifts, or else it cost less than $10/piece and turns my neck green. I throw money at problems and at people, but can't seem to put it into quality when it requires walking into a fancy store.
My friends buy coach bags. I buy pleather.
Yet I have a diva attitude that just won't quit.
I think I am quite the strangest snob on the planet.