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In front of the camera, the rich have long been pop culture villains. But recent media suggest that being loaded isn’t just morally dubious, it’s downright cringe. New “eat the rich” films like Saltburn, Triangle of Sadness, Knives Out, The Menu, Bodies Bodies Bodies and Dumb Money position their wealthy antagonists not as evil geniuses, but rather clueless losers.
This discomfort with wealth isn’t confined to the famous. Regular rich people are also feeling decidedly out of style. It’s become increasing common for millennials to have one or more friends who have spent years crying poor, only to have a house deposit conveniently materialise moments after they turn 30. These are the same friends who claimed to be starving artists, yet post photos of their parents’ home during Christmas break that reveal they grew up with an in-ground pool, giant marble island bench and a collection of purebred dogs.
It’s easy to feel resentful of this duplicity, but surely some sympathy should be spared for those forced to live double lives of platinum and poverty. It apparently can be a lot of work. Consider last year’s viral Atlantic article where a luxury wedding planner detailed throwing an “average” event for a client who had been cosplaying as poor to her friends for years. When it came time to invite them to her nuptials, the bride realised the ruse was going to have to extend to her big day. With the help of an actual middle-class person, they workshopped plans for jam jar wine glasses, picnic tables and a cash bar. It’s nice to think that as dystopian as this temporary trend of faux working-class economics and fiscal responsibility is, at least you can save a few dollars along the way.
But as with so much of fashion, this is about fantasy, not reality. Crocs are back, but specifically the $800 Balenciaga collab, not the pair your mum wears in the garden. Hair bows are in, but taste points to the Sandy Liang option that sells for $200, not the Spotlight remnants in your craft box. And while singer and TikTok star Addison Rae has been spotted gripping a 2014 era iPhone 6 in the name of Indie Sleaze, your cracked iPhone X is depressing as hell.
Still, try to remain optimistic. Who knows what next season will bring. A rent freeze? A drop in interest rates? An omelette that doesn’t cost $28? When you hear, please let me know. Until then, I’ll be here sorting through these dented cans.
Wendy Syfret is a freelance writer based in Melbourne and author of The Sunny Nihilist.
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