COLUMN: A Little Class, S'il Vous Plait

From Lee Bailey's "The Immaculate Perception?," Fall '95 From Lee Bailey's "The Immaculate Perception?," Fall '95In his book Class, the University's own Paul Fussell writes, "If you find an American who feels entirely class secure, stuff and exhibit him. He's a rare specimen." Indeed, it seems that many Americans, and humanity in general, are quite concerned by how others view them, particularly in the socioeconomic sense. Life is replete with social climbers, vying to be seen as part of the upper class, America's echelon of the rich. Equally pathetic are those members of the upper crust who are inclined to notify all whom they encounter. Although one has little control over the tax bracket into which he is born, one certainly has the power to curb his behavior in order to project true class -- a characteristic which may be possessed by anyone. Whether one works at Goldman Sachs or 7-Eleven is irrelevant -- both can be classy. Almost as indicative as speech is appearance. While popular taste may call for the classy to be clad in Versace and Valentine, this is most definitely not the case. Worst of all are those women who parade for hopefully amazed gal pals their clothing which actually bears designer names -- ostentatiously emblazoned with Chanel logos and whatnot. Again, sensible attire defines the more tasteful individual. In fact, he who dons an eighty-dollar pair of jeans is not only a live mannequin for the manufacturer whose emblem undoubtedly appears, but also an insecure fool symbolically screaming, "I can afford these so please accord me the respect I deserve." The classiest woman I know wears khakis and a simple turtleneck. She forsook Donna Karan for Dockers. Such practicality is far more respectable than ridiculous badges of one's real or alleged money. One ought to be well-dressed, not wealth-dressed. A third sign of pseudo-class is the publicized participation in traditionally aristocratic activities. Before further examination, it is important to make the distinction between those who enjoy such pursuits legitimately (and probably call less attention to doing so) and those who merely desire to cultivate image. Croquet serves as an apt example. There's nothing wrong with a leisurely afternoon of this enjoyable sport, perhaps in the backyard. (By the way, if anyone refers to this area of the home as the "rear lawn", he has no real taste.) However, when ascots, cigarette holders and a passing audience enter the scene, class leaves. Similarly, any banter about social registers, debutantes and "the Club" are mostly likely ploys to create a perception of wealth or class. Consider: "My parents said that the VanDusens spent at least ten grand on Buffy's coming out. Add to that the two million they spent to buy her into Exeter and Yale and you could buy a bungalow in St. Tropez! Oh well, they're just a bunch of nouveau-riche yahoos anyway, n'est-ce pas? They weren't even listed in the Social Register until '89!" Besides inducing vomiting, such laughable pretension betrays the speaker as one completely lacking class. After this terse tour of affected behavior and bombastic jargon, a few key observations and caveats may be presented. First, there's a little snob in all of us. As was mentioned earlier, the desire to be respected is intense, and sometimes the display of material excess seems an easy route. However, the genuinely classless obsess over the practice -- they thirst for respect. As my wise mother once told me, "Someone with true class can converse amiably with a custodian or a CEO. He can act sensibly in the Queen's court or the food court." So forget about those champagne wishes and caviar dreams -- just be yourself.