The hierarchies of taste and knowledge are a thing of the past, but we haven’t stopped striking a pose

I don’t know since when we’ve become so cultured and refined, but snobbery has now become the prevailing sentiment. Perhaps it all began when we decided we wanted to dress in ‘quiet luxury’ too, as understated as the rich. Snobbery in these wretched times. It’s impossible to become a snob; there are (or were) only a select few. It’s a complicated attitude that comes from one’s lineage: you must have been accustomed to the very best without any effort, and most things in the world must bore you – but in a special way, a way that the rest of us can’t possibly grasp.

A literary precedent for clarification. One day, Prince Korsakoff took Julien Sorel – who was feeling dejected over minor romantic matters – aside and set him straight with a lesson in behaviour: ‘A melancholic air is in poor taste; what is needed is an air of boredom. If you are melancholic, it is a sign that something is lacking in your life, that you have failed at something. It is a clear sign of inferiority. Whereas if you are bored, it is the thing that tried in vain to please you that is inferior.” (Stendhal, The Red and the Black).

I recently came across a humorous article in the Washington Post about the snobbery we are currently grappling with: “It is generally thought that snobbery thrives in rigid societies, characterised by class hierarchies and shared codes. In the past, there were relatively clear criteria for respectability, elegance and good manners. The nouveau riche could attempt to learn them, reject them or be mocked. Those codes led to exclusion, but they also offered something to aspire to, to parody or to rebel against. Contemporary America, on the other hand, has dismantled the idea of a single hierarchy of taste. The result, however, is not the end of snobbery: it is its fragmentation into thousands of small forms – ‘microsnobberies’.” It is therefore essential to draw up a list of our own.

The snobbery of the naive. The snobbery of those who always think they know it all. The snobbery of those who go on holiday to the seaside in their second home and look down on others. The snobbery of those who set off for another continent. The snobbery of those who only go to the mountains. The snobbery of the person who mentions an obscure place and has invented a look just for us when they have to answer the question: ‘And where is that?’

The snobbery of the tanned. The snobbery of those who stay pale. The snobbery of those whose homes are furnished with pieces that cost as much as another flat, all in light, neutral colours and almost invisible. The snobbery of those whose homes are furnished by Ikea, but lack personality. The snobbery of homes with too much personality. The snobbery of those who paint their walls in bright colours.

The snobbery of those who understand contemporary art. The snobbery of those who consider contemporary art utter rubbish. The snobbery of those who say that contemporary art prices are determined by investment funds.

Educational snobbery regarding other people’s children. Snobbery on the part of those without children.

Snobbery towards those who dress up to the nines in the office even in summer. Snobbery towards the scruffy ones. Snobbery towards open-toed shoes even when it’s hot. Snobbery towards closed shoes even when it’s hot. Snobbery towards the food at the restaurants everyone’s talking about. Snobbery towards those obsessed with ‘authentic’ places. Snobbery in Milan. Snobbery in Rome. Snobbery in Naples. Snobbery towards new politicians like Mamdani – you’d have to be a real gullible fool to believe them.

The snobbery of the upstart. The snobbery of those who’ve been rich for generations and don’t realise how inappropriately they flaunt their privilege. The snobbery of those who post everything on social media. The snobbery of those with private social media profiles – who do you think you are, a Rothschild?

Grammatical snobbery. Snobbery on the part of those with a southern Italian accent. Snobbery on the part of those who pretend they can’t think of the Italian word but only the English one. Snobbery on the part of those who speak English with an Italian accent. Snobbery on the part of those who, because they know how to pronounce English well, say ‘Baàaston’ (cit.). Snobbery on the part of those who quote Flaiano. Snobbery on the part of those who no longer quote Flaiano because he’s now just an Instagram meme.

The snobbery of those who no longer watch television. The snobbery of those who don’t have a television in their new home. The reverse snobbery of those who watch everything and know all about the characters on Temptation Island.

The snobbery of optimists. The snobbery of artificial intelligence. The snobbery of entertaining cultural consumption. The snobbery of quoting a book by an obscure author to show you’re an Adelphi reader. The (terrible) snobbery of ‘just because everyone likes it doesn’t mean I do’, which is a very sad thing, because if everyone likes it, it’s usually because it’s good.