In my life, I have never done well with “classy”. It started in pre-school, where I would frequently show up to daycare with no shoes on. By kindergarten I was fully dressed, but would often tie a bandana around my head in order to look like a ninja.
In fourth grade, when Bryan Hart (the most eligible fourth-grader in town) asked me “to go steady”, I agreed… but only if he would date both me and my friend Cameron. He refused, breaking my little polygamist heart.
In eighth grade, I received office detention for beaning a boy in the head with a pencil. (He was reaching for a piece of candy but got a bleeding skull instead.) And in high school, my friends and I would often dress up in old-school wrestling onesies and run around campus wielding a stolen bullhorn: “PHIL, STOP PICKING YOUR NOSE! WE SEE YOUUUU!”
So, classiness is not in my nature. But now that I’m out of school and living in New York, I figure that I should learn how to be classy. After all, Coco Chanel once said, “A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous.” And while I’m obviously fab, I must admit: I need to learn class.
With all its museums, art, and ultra-exclusive, high-priced, high-brow culture, there is no better place than New York to teach me about being classy. Even in the most unlikely places, there are examples of the city’s refinement. For instance, I was graced by an elegant framed painting of cherubic angels while waiting in line for a Big Breakfast at McDonald’s (see photo). God and biscuits? How can that not be classy? Of course, there are some less-haute areas of New York, like the NYC subway system and its bombardment of GOT HEMMORHOIDS? and GOT BED BUGS? ads. But every city has some unfortunate, uncouth moles.
Still, classiness is something everyone can aspire to, even if you’re heinously ugly (you can always cover up ugly with J.Crew). From living in New York, I’ve learned that classiness is all about restraint. It’s not classy to showcase excessiveness, although it’s fine to do it subtly (hello, $400 unbranded umbrella). As a rule, collars should be semi-popped, bookshelves should be fully stocked, and you have to Just Say No to tequila shots. Pretentious words should be utilized in everyday conversation (“shall”, “ergo”, “apropos”), and exclamation marks should be used sparingly, if at all (unless you are describing a melee involving a bullhorn). Muted elitism is class.
Thus from now on, I will tap into the classier side of my fabulous personality. I will order martinis, eat foie gras, and hold civil conversations about politics. I will wear my hair in a stylish bun on Thursdays and write poetry about animal rescue shelters on Fridays. I will say no to Playboy. Ergo, I shall ensure that “classy” can be applied as an apropos keyword on my future eHarmony profile.
At the same time, I know it will be tough to shake old habits, especially with my penchant for ninjas and assaulting others. But, if a classy tree falls in an empty forest, does it make a sound? As in, if I leave the bathroom door open while peeing in my empty apartment, will anyone think I am less classy?…
…Just wondering, of course.
“WE SEE YOUUUU!”
