Poshness is in the eye of the beholder

9:31am Monday 11th August 2008

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“YOU’RE always pulling up your trousers, why don’t you move the button on the elastic bit on the waistband?” my eldest daughter asked one of her friends.

She looked horrified. “MY trousers haven’t got an elastic waistband – they’re posh trousers,” she replied.

And earlier this year, when passing a private school, my youngest daughter asked why their skirts were so long, wondering: “Is that because they’re posh?”

Everyone has a vision of what’s posh – even, I imagine, posh people vying to be posher.

When I was young, we thought the people next door were frightfully posh. They had quite plummy accents – we used to mimic the children’s mum calling them at ‘barrth time’ – and they played golf.

They had white, ornate cast iron tables and chairs on their patio (they probably called it the terrace), which I thought was the height of sophistication.

I was amused to discover, during the trouser conversation, that my daughter had inherited my beliefs about cast iron garden furniture.

“Cast iron benches, especially cream ones,” my daughter said, as she rattled off a ‘things-I-think-are posh’ list that included Marks & Spencer (the source of her friend’s trousers), anything from Waitrose, old-looking floral wallpaper – the sort you find in stately homes – big pictures with big frames, nice-smelling perfume, lovely dresses worn little cardigans and convertible cars. My youngest thinks poshness comes with chandeliers, nice handbags, dresses with ‘folding bits’ around the shoulders, grand pianos, checked jackets (on men), and big sunglasses.

It made me realise that, with a few exceptions, it wouldn’t take much to fool them into thinking that we’re hugely posh.

A sparkly chandelier from B&Q, a checked jacket from the charity shop for my husband – he’s already got some green wellingtons – a few groceries from Waitrose, conspicuously carried into the house in Waitrose carriers, and a faded vintage handbag from eBay.

I could carry through a few lifestyle changes to reinforce the idea of poshness - ban the children from eating their tea (which from now on will be known as ‘dinner’) in front of the telly and insist they call the garridge the ‘garajh’.

Posh is a tricky subject. I keep telling my children that there’s no clear definition. My husband went to boarding school, calls the toilet the lavatory, tells me off when I call napkins serviettes and pudding dessert, and refers to his mother as ‘mummy’.

But he eats in front of the TV, chews gum, takes the bus to work and shops at Netto. Is he posh? Yes and no.

We don’t have a Waitrose near our house, but a bottle of shampoo I brought home generated much excitement among my daughters. Their celebrations were a little dampened, however, when I told them it was cheaper than the one we usually buy from Tesco.

Next time we’re out shopping I’m going to confuse them even more – we’re going to M&S, where I’m sure I will find plenty of trousers WITH elasticated waists.