I’m sophisticated but I’m lower class

I’m not exactly sure how old I was when I first realized I loved quality over quantity, but I have always been captivated by the finest details in work, art, and stories. Whether it’s mastering the art of baking bread from scratch, engaging in in-depth conversations about traditional literature, or exploring the intricacies of design and aesthetics, I find beauty in every detail. I love the way different paints interact on a canvas, how paper quality can alter the feel of a written word, and the delicate interplay of color theory. In art, poetry, and cinema, I find a language that speaks to my soul.

Yet, despite this deep appreciation, society often tells me that I don’t deserve these pleasures. I am accused of being egoistic and narcissistic, judged harshly for embracing sophistication despite being a single mom and having a low-income background. The implication is that my love for refinement is merely compensation for some deep-seated insecurity. But if that were truly the case, I’d be flaunting designer brands with their ostentatious logos rather than appreciating the subtle nuances of craftsmanship. In truth, I see designer excess as a scam targeting the middle class.

I once lived in a cramped, shed-like apartment while working and studying for a better life. I remember the rain pouring in through a leaky roof, and a lemon tree bursting through the makeshift bathroom; a small, shivering shed in the winter where the cold wind could pierce your skin even in a shower. It was in those humble conditions that I forged more of my passion for beauty and art.

My neighbor, who lived next door in a magnificent house filled with amazing art, would often chat with me about art while sitting on his mailbox, tending to the flowers and sipping tea. His genuine appreciation for my insights transcended our socioeconomic differences. He recognized my passion as authentic, even if the world at large dismissed it as pretentious or unwarranted. In a society that expects you to “know your place,” I found solace in our friendship, a rare instance where class differences faded in the face of true cultural appreciation.

Yet, the backlash I have faced for my love of sophistication comes mostly from those who are insecure about their economic circumstances. They call me narcissistic and accuse me of overreaching, insisting that someone like me should not aspire to such refined pleasures. Because babe, if you say ‘artisan’ or ‘bespoke’ in the suburbs you’re about to get your head caved in, for real.

To be relatable, I’ve often felt compelled to lower my own standards in art and creation, an act that reflects the unfortunate reality that many in my income group view genuine appreciation for beauty as a threat to their own identity.

This need to subvert and hide my true self is not without consequence. I’ve experienced the isolation and emotional toll of having to present a façade, of pretending to be “in my place” to avoid being attacked. I recall a particularly painful memory: I once bought a second hand Burberry trench coat on accident (not knowing its true value) and later caught colleagues scrutinizing the tags, whispering that I had somehow overstepped, but I had no idea it was even designer, I’m not sure the second hand shop knew either, I just liked the quality and shape when I picked it up. True sophistication, for me, is not about brand names anyway; it’s about the meticulous, handcrafted details and the love infused in every creation. It’s about recognising the layers of failure that lead to something genuinely stunning.

What people don’t know this about creating something truly stunning; is that you have to fail a million times first, and that true sophistication doesn’t come from money and trying to project an image. It’s love of something so deeply you labour profousely, and take the time to put the effort in. Elitists who care about image can pay for the time, rich people basically only pay for more time.. like cleaners and admin to do their laundry and paperwork, that’s why sophistication has the wrong stereotype/image of being only for the upper class.

Sophistication is a labor of love, and belongs to every class.

I’ve even been on the receiving end of physical and verbal abuse, once, while living in a modest suburb on the outskirts of the city, I had a piece of brick thrown at me and was called a “pretty little bitch”. I wouldn’t say I’m particularly attractive, or stand out, but I know how to match my clothes well. In these environments, where survival often brings out the worst in people, the cost of being true to myself is painfully clear.

When you look like you’re ahead, people get angry. Really angry. My clothes are never expensive, and I’ve never been upper class, but because I’m someone who appreciates detail, it makes me look like I’m trying to be someone I’m not to others who don’t have the same passion in design, but the same income; fuelled by that ridiculous stereotype I mentions above; that sophistication is only for the upper class.

I believe it’s time we reclaim sophistication as a positive trait rather than a marker of elitism.

We need to celebrate the beauty in our shared appreciation for art and culture, regardless of our background, that honors everyone with diversity in taste and ambition, and to question the narrow definitions of what is “appropriate” based on someone’s background.

For years, I have been caught between the refined and the raw, a single mom with an insatiable passion for art and culture, yet often mischaracterized as out of touch or self-indulgent. In a society that insists I should be humble because of my struggles, my appreciation for sophistication is a silent rebellion. It is not a vanity project, but an act of self-love and resilience. True sophistication acknowledges the journey through failure before arriving at greatness. Every person, regardless of background, has the right to pursue beauty.

Liking artisan or bespoke items isn’t pretentious, unless your using them just to look classy.

(Like using a celebrities wife and thinking you made it as a YouTuber or a blogger.)

Embracing authentic craftsmanship is for all social classes, using it as a facade is what we should all be laughing at, and the elitist scammers who try to sell you some bs that hasn’t got love in it, just the money to make it look good.

and in the era of AI, it’s even more pressing we like sophistication now, more then ever.