The Really Rich

 

I was invited to a charity event at Buckingham Palace recently. The invitation that came through was so thick that it could have caused serious cranial damage if wielded as a weapon. No, I have not suddenly become rich or agreeable at these occasions- I can only say that my invitation must have been a mistake. I went mostly because I wanted to see the Queen's Faberge collection and I wanted to impress several women (the one I was taking and others who might have wanted me to take them). You don't often get to observe a high concentration of really rich people in one place and certainly not in the circles I move in.

 

When we arrived, we were announced. We were asked, 'What name shall I announce?'. This was a first for me. We went down the receiving line meetings the Lords and heads of business side by side. We then took our champagne flutes and looked around.

 

Several things were immediately clear. Most of the couple of hundred attendees were men. All of them were wearing dark blue suits (myself included). Of the women, there were four types- the waitresses, the PR girls with their perspex clipboards hurrying after the dignitaries, a few pretty young things who were attached to male companions (including the lady that had come with me) and were dressed in one piece catsuits or pinstripe suits and fishnet stockings and the older distinguished women. I should say that the invitations were only for one person and I had to wrangle another invite- something that only a few other people seemed to have done.

 

You can immediately recognize a really rich person- male or female, they have the same characteristics. There are immaculately dressed with not a crease in their clothes or hair out of place. They have well coifed hair. In the case of the older women, this was big permed hair- all the women had an air of Madeleine Albright or Margaret Thatcher about them- I thought I saw the Queen herself on several occasions. The clothes were easily recognizable as expensive because the women were wearing silky shiny formal dresses made of exotic materials- those drapes over the arms must be an extreme cause of repetitive strain disorder by the end of the evening. The older men had distinguished looking hair- carefully cut and combed- and clearly expensive suits that fit like a glove and were cut from a different cloth. And of course both the men and the women had skin that was wrinkle-free too- the most visible sign of riches is a face that looks significantly younger than it actually is.

 

The only other sure sign of a posh person was the knowledge of what each of the tiny rich food items was before the waiter or waitress had been asked. Some people just know Foie Gras instantly (although they apparently don't like to think about it because of the way it is produced).

 

Alas, most guests did not stray past the anti-chamber into the galleries themselves. Conversation and networking were clearly the order of the day. And as for me, I had a great time thanks to splendid company. I could not have coped alone and would not have been able to stay much more than an hour. On the way out I purchased a Faberge inspired pig on its side for my friend. Many of the really rich probably felt a little like that themselves the next morning, at least until their morning bath and aromatherapy treatments kicked in.

 

 

Author: Simon Buckingham

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