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When we believe a person’s authority on a subject we call them a connoisseur or specialist. If that knowledge makes us uncomfortable, we damn them as geeks or ‘self-appointed’ experts, we accuse them of lording their obscure tastes over our common, shared references.
- Dan Fox: Pretentiousness: Why It Matters
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Why do people associate going to the museum and ballet with being pretentious. Has no one ever heard of the arts? Do they not understand the irony of this being a fan of a musician who's a literal artist. I would use harry as an inspiration to try out new things in life not to shame him for it
Exactly.
In reference to this
Plagiarist: "The Art of the Handwritten Note" is by author Margaret Shepherd NOT Meghan Markle, Duchess of Sussex County
The Art of the Handwritten Note: "Corresponding on paper let's you elevate a simple pleasure into an artform." -Margaret Shepherd 2002
Plagiarism has become an artform for Meghan Markle Duchess of Sussex County who frequently quotes Margaret Shepherd (famed author and calligrapher) without crediting her book or work.
Photos from my own copy of The Art of The Handwritten Note (published by Shepherd in 2002):
Pretentiousness
MM obviously practiced her hand lettering and penmanship for this series because it looks much more polished and presentable. She really thinks her handwriting is the definition of "classy." Perhaps as a child it provided her with immediate praise that fed her narcissism. No thanks to Thomas Markle who contracted with Nickelodeon to film her writing the dish soap letter from hell.
Harry has to explain to the people of Sussex why it's taking such a long time for his wife to sign her name.🤪
"That's How I Paid My Bills"
She claims to have paid her bills by working as a "freelance calligrapher." Paula Patton did not hire Meghan Markle to address her wedding invitations, she hired Paper Source Retail Stores.
MEgain worked as a retail associate for Paper Source where they sell stationary, gift wrap, party supplies, etc. The associates are trained to teach customers how to use their products. Sometimes they offer mini workshops throughout the year: bookbinding as a craft, gift wrapping, hand lettering, and of course some stores will also address your invitations.
"Our kids have REAL sets" she bragged 🙄
What kind of parent recommends that toddlers play with REAL trowels in the backseat of the car as a "distraction" during the ride home from a toddler's birthday party?🏨🏥🚑 Oh and no candy in those bags, just a manuka honey stick gifted from a person who said she doesn't even like honey. 🤪
Moma Knows Best
Meghan Markle's handwriting is "faux calligraphy" with doodles & flourishes. Lady C described it as "pretension gone riot." In this episode she's obviously clapping back at her critics by revealing to the world she made an A- in handwriting due to "those little swirls."
"I'll take the minus for a bit of character."
Right there she's explained to us that it's her way or the highway. She knows what's required but chooses not to meet those expectations because in her narcissist mind, she actually knows best.
Soho House Tradwife plays Hostess
In the context of this lifestyle series, Lady C made some excellent points about how an experienced hostess doesn't have the time to spend on tasks that should be assigned to the hired help. When I reviewed the images from her luncheon, it was obvious that the guests didn't enjoy her food. Perhaps in part because the hostess covered up the table in those ridiculous flowers instead of creating SPACE for people to actually sit down at the table to eat their meals.
Revisionist History
This "SERIES" was another Solo Meghan attempt at an image make over and infomercial. With each new man, her adult life seems to be a transactional stepping stone of revisionist history. In the case of the Spare, Harry offered her his name, titles, family, country, wealth to erase her Soho House yachting lifestyle and launch her into global stardom. In exchange the Spare would receive his freedom from what he perceived as a trapped future and the rigors of royal service. The Spare made a deal with the devil, but that is a topic for another time.
There is something strangely poetic about the act of smoking a cigarette. This claim sounds gauche, maybe a little pretentious. It sounds oddly, like a justification, for why one should keep up an objectively terrible habit. However, in the mornings, when my eyes are still sleep filled and hazy, and the sun has crested over the rows of buildings neighbouring my house, I cannot help but feel somewhat holy. The temporary nature of a cigarette feels like capturing yourself in resin, or perhaps more similarly to molasses. The world stills, or slows, to the time it takes from the first spark of a lighter to the yellowing butt that is held surely between fingers. I am, as a principle, gluttonous. My hunger for things is continual, aggressive, and untameable in most moments. I am bred for overconsumption. Everything I have and see, I want in excess, overwhelming and whole. My jaw is loose at its hinge, and my mouth is ready for a feast I have skinned bare myself. There is a forced portion given to me when I smoke. There is the now, the singular moment, in which I become confined to. Inhale. Pause. One action, followed to completion. I could have another cigarette following the one I am currently occupied with, yet still, I would have to finish the action of smoking the first before doing so. In this addiction, I have somehow bred restraint. I could smoke hundreds of cigarettes, one after the other, and yet, even in my gluttony, I can only have one at a time. I have dieted my desire. Scheduled. Controlled. In the minute before I have finished smoking, I have tamed the beast.
Crucifixion.
Growing up religious, you become accustomed to the act of ritual, in whatever form that may take. There is a rigid structure, a way in which something must be done in order to receive sanctification. My God died, and so must I, even if it is the inevitability of the flesh alone. Gluttony is a mortal sin. Lust. Greed. I am afflicted with iniquity. I feel, and then I stretch that feeling to the greatest extent. As did Lucifer. So, here I must tame the spirit to prevent the fall. I have abandoned mass times, but I am religious in my attendance to tobacco. I rid myself of emotion, and I operate on instinct. Like the shaking of the body during prayer, so do my lungs heave. My fingers twitch, once, twice. I cycle air like incense in pews. I am prostrate to a hurt that saves. Stigmata. I am diseased, but I know it is for a greater cause. If Jesus were to abandon the cross, I would not be saved. If I were to abandon this affliction, my extremity would kill me rather.
"Fashion archivists"? This is just an alternative way to show a status symbol. They are so obviously buying it because of a name, not merely because of design, less because of sustainability. They're trophy purchases. I'm not saying you shouldn't buy vintage, all I'm saying is that there are way too many small independent labels creating beautiful things who need your support, many of them have gone bankrupt (Dion Lee, for instance), because people decide to purchase a big name or logo and make luxury conglomerates richer.
No, I'm not impressed if your shirt/skirt/shoes are vintage 90s Margiela/Prada/Lang/Yamamoto if they're ugly AF.
No, being a fashion archivist does not instantly convert you into a style maven, because if you have a hint of style, you won't discriminate something thrifted, second hand, no name, or from an unknown small independent label, since all you are mindfully buying is purely for the love of design, not names.
Stating that buying archive fashion makes you have a better style is like saying buying a Vermeer makes you a better painter. Knowing yourself and what you like is enough. While fashion history knowledge, like any knowledge, enriches your repertoire, it doesn't mean you need to be a collector to have the eye, talent, or skills to have a style.
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I literally feel so evil when someone says they have pretentious writing and it turns out it's pretentious in a disaffected YA novel way instead of the weird esoteric way I want. Pretentious stories should make me feel like there's a whole secret level to the narrative that I'm just not understanding.
Y'all gotta stop judging how much people like a character by how much they post about them.
I promise you gatekeeping is not activism.
