Of all the things in this wide, wicked world, there are few more instructive than watching the rich get richer over the summer. I had a privileged upbringing with two classmates as my godparents and I have observed how they behave since I was a teenager.
Their antics might be described as wild or despicable among mere mortals, but they somehow pass off as a joke when it comes to the rich.
And it all begins now with what elite British social circles call ‘The Season’, that stream of coveted social events such as Glyndebourne, Royal Ascot, Wimbledon and Henley Regatta. They are prohibitively expensive for most of us, but not, as I have witnessed for decades, for the rich, especially when it comes to old money.
The aristocracy has mechanisms, perfected over generations, for saving money or, preferably, not spending it at all. His general attitude, in short, is as hard as a miser’s fist.
It all begins now with what elite British social circles call “The Season”, that stream of coveted social events such as Glyndebourne, Royal Ascot, Wimbledon and Henley Regatta.
Consider Royal Ascot. I have been attending this seasonal laser light event for almost three decades and it is an expensive business for most people.
In the exclusive Royal Enclosure (every other part of Ascot is a kind of social Elba), badges entitling their holder to entry cost between £90 and £99 a day. It is the most prestigious part of the racecourse, as it contains the Royal Box and puts you within arm’s reach of the Windsors. In principle, you can’t avoid paying, but the rich have shameless ploys to reduce the costs of their career.
I’ve seen companions pass their badges from one to another so that a friend could get free entry to the Precinct for a furtive hour or two so they could tip their top hats to the royals and gather with their friends to tell scandalous gossip about who is sleeping. with who. Lending badges is strictly against the rules, but it was done anyway.
One year, two people I knew, including a duke, who had accumulated chips as a croupier for much of his life, saved almost £300 by taking advantage of this subterfuge.
The dress code for the Royal Enclosure is very formal; for men, it is a morning coat and top hat, and for ladies, hats or headdresses that cover the crown of the head.
But old money doesn’t have to buy or rent your formal sartorial. Most of the rich people I know inherited their morning coats from their parents and grandparents, resulting in savings of up to £3,000.
The truth is that rich people tend to be stingy, and that’s how they stay rich.
Unfortunately for women, competition in fashion is fierce, especially as Ascot is televised. Outfits for a day are often borrowed from top designers worth up to £10,000. I met a noblewoman who acquired her Ascot dresses for free from Versace (one was peony silk, the other navy blue with an open skirt), with the promise that she would have tea in the Royal Box, which would be invaluable publicity for the designer.
Some fashionable hat shops, with unerring snobbery, often lend hats following the same principle.
If not, there will always be a gullible friend who will lend you one. My mother saved up for years to buy two Chanel hats, and after repeated imprecations from a wealthy acquaintance, she lent him a black-and-white Chanel creation in straw and grosgrain for Women’s Day.
Year after year, the woman forgot to pay it back, until it turned up on Ebay and gave the shameless borrower a reported £2,000.
Then there is the food and drink. Ascot restaurants can cost a party of four £700 for a measly lunch of cold poached fish, cheese and chocolates.
I have been lucky enough to be entertained in a private box at the Royal Enclosure with hot food, smoked salmon sandwiches and champagne for guests throughout the day.
But I soon realized that there were many uninvited guests, either brought by friends or simply by interlopers, one of whom improbably claimed to have been sent there by the late Queen. Everyone drank and ate freely, devouring and gobbling down hundreds of pounds of food and alcohol.
The truth is that rich people tend to be stingy, and that’s why they stay rich.
A racist lady takes a nap next to a case of wine during Royal Ascot in Berkshire.
At Wimbledon, bring a bottle of your own wine or champagne to avoid paying upwards of £40 to £120 at an official bar. Although strawberries are still reasonably priced at £2.50, they sell their own fruit and sandwiches in plastic bags. (Wimbledon allows this, if there is no food and drink in the basket). In Glyndebourne, opera tickets cost over £200 per person.
I have known members of the aristocracy who tried to get free passes by using their contacts, or even by posing as members of the press. One count, with the instincts of a hurried Berlin hausfrau, used to call the press office and complain: “But I MUST have free tickets.” I’m writing about opera for Country Life.
If these attempts to obtain free admission fail, their picnics during the interval make up for any outlay by being extremely parsimonious.
A millionaire acquaintance of mine once invited me to share what he hoped would be a sumptuous meal. I politely contributed Ruinart champagne and Fortnum & Mason smoked salmon. She served me Tesco Chardonnay and a container of mini pork pies. He must have paid ten pounds for the lot. I, on the other hand, had foolishly forked out about £100.
When summer vacation begins, there is more savings to do and more people to take advantage of financially. Rich people who own villas abroad often rent them out during July and August for up to £50,000 a week. With nowhere to go, they scan their contact lists for friends who have chosen to spend the summer at their own retreats and try to get invitations by claiming that they “will be in the area” and could come and stay “for a couple of nights.” . .
This ploy is often successful, but their reluctant hosts often display a degree of meanness that would disgrace a breed of stray cats.
At Glyndebourne, where revelers are seen enjoying a picnic, opera tickets cost more than £200 per person.
A wealthy aristocrat who once owned the Italian villa used in the TV series Succession apparently gave his guests frozen meals from M&S.
One of his victims included the then Prince Charles. Another host refused to serve anything for breakfast except coffee and dry toast, while the wine served at dinner was chianti left over from being used in bolognese sauce.
Some desperate guests made up for this by going to the local supermarket and buying their own food and drink.
The host also insisted that each guest take the entire house party to different restaurants each night, so after dinner the villa owner would have conveniently forgotten his credit card, thus saving approximately £500 on each chance.
Another gave guests a bill for food and electricity at the end of their stay. He made an enviable profit of £400 a week per person. It doesn’t change, that old saying. In summer, the rich get richer, or else they don’t get poorer like the rest of us.
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