By Suchita Thepkanjana
Some time last year, the internet was obsessed with Sofia Richie’s and Madelaine Brockway’s multi-million dollar weddings that were lauded as the pinnacle of old money class and elegance. Since then, my social media feeds have been flooded with posts about this very trend.
The term ‘old money’ typically refers to the generational wealth of elite families. The term invokes images of families clad in Ralph Lauren, playing polo in front of their mansions or smoking cigars in their summer home in Tuscany while chatting about being masters of the universe. This aesthetic has seen a recent resurgence as a social media sensation that lauds the aesthetic, values, and mere existence of the old money class.
This glorification, however, extends beyond simply emulating clothes and hobbies: it also shames those who don’t fit into the old money image, ultimately reinforcing the age-old idea that money defines worth, and that respectability belongs to the exclusive, elite few who can afford it.
To be clear, I have no problem with the old money style. In fact, I would love to be given a Ralph Lauren wardrobe or a country manor. Simply liking the old money vibe doesn’t suddenly make you an elitist. But what I find problematic about this trend is when people are told what articles of clothing (among other extremely superficial things) define your character. Videos on social media, for example, label montages of (white) people in three-piece suits, gold jewellery, and vintage dresses as “classy” and “real men/women”, and, alternatively, images of people (of colour) in hoodies, baggy jeans, and hoop earrings as “trashy”.
Fellas, are you any less of a person for wearing a hoodie instead of a tailored vintage Chanel ensemble?
Some internet users even claim Sofia Richie, the golden girl of the whole trend, landed herself a rich husband because she transitioned from the gaudy, “trashy” style to the old money one, which somehow increased her value as a woman. There are even videos showing classic old money items, such as the famed Burberry coat, that have allegedly become so popular that they are no longer deserving of the prestigious “old money” title. The caption of one video from an anonymous account even warns “Beware not to wear them anymore”.
What is so wrong about casual clothing? Nothing, really. Except for the fact that popularisation symbolises accessibility, which is detrimental to the realm of old money, a realm built entirely on exclusivity. Oversized, casual clothing is affordable to the masses and is, thus, the epitome of inclusivity. In the same way, the items that are now commonly used by ordinary people have suddenly lost their prestige and are seen as impure and tainted in some way.
For the elite class, it is simply not enough to be wealthy, especially in an era where lucky individuals can get rich relatively quickly if the cards fall in their favour. There are more rich people now than ever before, meaning it is becoming increasingly difficult for traditional elites to convince us of their unwavering superiority purely on the basis of immense wealth. This is why they turn to cultural means. By branding their cultural practices as classy, dignified, and respectable while simultaneously maintaining exclusivity, the elite class shrouds itself in a mystical, mysterious aura that everyone else is implicitly led to covet and, most importantly, worship.
The glorification of old money, then, is the way the elite class reinvents their hegemony through cultural capital tailored to the 21st century.
Worst of all, however, is the inevitable constant comparison of old money to the new money class and the debate about which type of immense wealth is better. A particularly ridiculous video asks, “Why would you be this type of rich”, inserting pictures of blingy diamonds and bold brand name tracksuits (staples of new money), “when you can be this type of rich”, displaying country houses and silk, collared shirts, representative of old money.
Heated debates are often sparked in the comments sections, with some actually defending the superiority of new money, claiming that they are self-made, hardworking, and, thus, the better type of rich. However, what this wild hype around the lives of the uber-rich obscures is the very real, ever-present problem of poverty.
So, why would you be new money rich when you can be old money rich? Intriguing question. Maybe it’s because a significant proportion of the world isn’t either type of rich but actually poor. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, the debate about what kind of rich deserves more respect is futile when 648 million people worldwide live on less than $2.15 a day.
Sure, new money entrepreneurs deserve credit for building their own businesses. However, the word “business” is often a euphemism for “corporation dependent on the exploitation of grossly underpaid workers” (for example, Amazon and its array of labour exploitation scandals, or “finfluencer” and self-proclaimed entrepreneur Grant Cardone, who was exposed for fraud ).
Sure, old money is often associated with class and sophistication. It is also intrinsically connected to predominantly white families whose wealth often came from colonial institutions.
So we can debate over the Ralph Lauren coat versus the Gucci tracksuit all we want. The important part is that we’re not thinking about how ordinary people can’t afford any of that. Going a step further to frame the debate in terms of values, integrity, and worthiness of respect conveniently ignores how both the old money and new money classes are literally built on the perpetuated exploitation of the lower classes, which widens the gap between the filthy rich and the struggling poor. The old money vs new money debate shifts attention onto the superficial and imaginary rivalry between two types of rich, an effective distraction from the Manichaen dynamic of the rich versus the poor.
Ultimately, there is nothing wrong with wanting to emulate the style of wealthiness – old or new. It is still important, however, to remember that any obsessive glorification of elites may not really be about fashion or aesthetic anymore: it’s about putting the rich up on a pedestal so high that we forget about those living in destitute poverty. When we’re so fixated on those at the top, we don’t see that they are built on the backs of those at the bottom.
Photograph from Unsplash
