Satirical monologue on old moneyfrom @wyattderman

Transcript

Nobody warned me about this when I moved to Europe. I'm becoming an old money guy. I don't have old money. I don't have new money. I have a rented flat and a desire for a signet ring that means nothing. So it's just a costume with the confidence of a man who's never seen a price tag. Best started with a jacket. Saw a man in tweeds no beaten up. It looked like it survived a war. Shoes resold six tier. A jumper with a hole he clearly refused to fix. And I thought, that man is extremely rich. That's the code. Wealthier they are, the more they dress like they lost a best. No I see a frayed collar and think, ah, generational wealth. I've started trying to look effortless, which is the most effort I've ever expended on anything. I bought a jacket. It looked too new, too hopeful. So I've been quietly beating it up in my flat. Someone complimented my coat and I said, oh, I've had it forever. I've had it since Tuesday. But vintage and bought it on Tuesday and lied? Produce the exact same jacket if your voice doesn't waver. And now I've gone somewhere rank. Started shopping for a signet ring. Signet ring has a ring with your family crest on it. I have no family crest. I'm from Minnesota. Yes essentially, I'm trying to buy a fake heirloom to pass down a bloodline I'm inventing in real time. But here's the thing nobody warns you about. It's easy to laugh at all this. The tweed, the fake bloodline, the horse I don't have. Strip away the costume and the idea underneath is quietly good. Buy one thing that lasts, wear it till it falls apart rank try to keep it. That's not wealth. That's just refusing to choose everything you own as disposable. Turns out the look was never the point. Caring about what you keep, that was.