Hmm...

[ksmith]

So yesterday, justinelavaworm discussed a panel she and matociquala, among others, participated in during which discussions of class were attempted/danced around/not quite followed through on. Then I saw this line in today's entry in Jane Espenson's blog:

You know how, in this country, the most visible, and most reliable, indicator of a person's social class is the condition of their teeth?

and I started thinking about outward indications of social class.

Not sure about teeth. A former manager, who came from upper-middle PacNorWet money, had one of the worst sets of choppers I had ever seen. But then, he had a casual attitude about a lot of things, including money. In a way, this casualness typed him as surely as Jane's perfect teeth.

Hands are supposed to be another indicator--their condition and the style of manicure. Shoes. Hair style. Weight.

I don't have time to go into this now, and I'm not sure what I'd say if I did except that I find it all pretty interesting.

Comments

[mt-yvr.livejournal.com]

See, I'd noticed that in the books. (grin) I'm learnin', I is.

And I'm only half kidding when I agree they probably would.

I guess one of the reasons it fascinates me is that I've run through several different classes in my life. My father was born poor Irish trash in NY city, married the daughter of Old Moneyed family that slowly was sliding into upper middle class. So I grew up with the strong push to live as upper class (which they achieved as Michael - father - became acclaimed for his career) and yet there was always an underlying fear of poverty. And living in rural areas, much of my childhood was surrounded by people who were born of labourers.

And so on. I've never enjoyed a particular class over an another, but I feel comfortable in almost any setting.

I think it's why I tend toward writing characters that could live in wealth and privilege.. but don't. A sense of perspective seems to be something hard to hold on to, I personally value it in people.

[kristine-smith.livejournal.com]

My dad was blue collar. Mom was pink collar. Farmers, shopkeepers, and working stiffs on both sides. One distant relative on my dad's side apparently used to own land that either became an important intersection in Buffalo NY or part of the University. In any event, they apparently sold the land for a fraction of what it was worth because they were of the type that believed that a penny in the hand now was worth more than a dollar in 20 years.

This tells you all you need to know about my dad's side of the family.

One distant relation fell off a boat and almost drowned in the Niagara River. Turned out she was weighted down by a money belt filled with gold coins.

I watch from afar. I find it fascinating. Certain accoutrements--a good handbag, a good coat--give me a sense of security in meetings.