In my corner of Oxfordshire, it seems Christmas is a competitive sport. It’s always easy for the truly posh to spot the nouveau riche trying just that bit too hard – and this year, the upstarts have a new name. Trying-to-be-posh pretenders are now known as HENRYs, or to give them their official classification: High Earning, Not Rich Yet.
Some play a convincing hand most of the year, but at Christmas, their inner Hyacinth Bucket often gives the game away. Not to be confused with the classic Hooray Henry, who is proper posh and couldn’t hide it if they tried, HENRYs can be identified quickly and easily at any Christmas gathering – here are the top eight instant giveaways…
DECK THE HALLS WITH DEAD GIVEAWAYS
Nothing says HENRY like a strict colour theme and/or excessive and super-neat decoration. They’re trying too hard. Elaborate outdoor decorations are a giveaway, and none more so than those done by the professional decorators they hire. (It’s no coincidence that many of these decorators’ websites show mock-Georgian, not real Georgian houses). For the truly posh there must be nothing outside the house except a chic wreath on the door. Or at a push, a Cox & Cox garden tree lit with white lights. Only.
Inside, the Hooray Henrys will have a real tree that’s a hotch-potch of baubles and hand-made decorations passed down through a pedigree of generations – the older the better – and possibly gathered on their jaunts across Europe. Expect hand painted baubles once belonging to great grandparents that today are worth a bomb but tossed on the tree as if they cost nothing at all.
The newer and matchy-matchy they are, the more HENRY the owner will be. Everything blue and silver? A dead giveaway – as is tinsel, unless, a very smart friend caveats, it belonged to a cherished relative and is wrapped up in tissue paper every year.
Posh greenery involves holly, ivy and mistletoe cut from the garden (or estate). HENRYs tend towards wedding-level floral displays or fake flowers.
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE . . .
A Hooray Henry household will spend Christmas Eve prepping the veg, eating a big ham and baked potatoes, then it’s all off to midnight mass, terribly sloshed, singing loudly and always filling in the descant on O Come All Ye Faithful. Food intolerances are not tolerated. Gluten-free is for the fussy.
HENRYs are more likely to be hosting a cocktail party with expensive fizz, canapes and uniformed waitresses.
HENRYs will be cracking out a brand new silver service or an obviously expensive and matching (ie not inherited) dinner service
CRACKERS TABLES
Some tablescaping is always inevitable – it is the festive season, but again, Hoorays will not adhere to a theme. If everything is new, then everything is nouveau.
And it’s not a table without a bit of tarnish, because the proper posh will be getting out the mismatched family silver and the old – possibly stained, and defintiely threadbare – linen tablecloths.
HENRYs on the other hand will be cracking out a brand new silver service or an obviously expensive and matching (ie not inherited) dinner service. Other clues are sauce bottles on the table (absolutely not if you’re posh), and matching glasses (ditto). The cook always gets the odd glass.
HENRYs have also managed to buy the entire supply of stratospherically over-priced Liberty table crackers.
IS YOUR PUDDING POSH?
On the day, it’s turkey – Kelly Bronze is the posh person’s poultry of choice – with the traditional veg. HENRYs are more likely to have Ottolenghi Brussels sprouts (delicious but not Christmas, darling), while the truly posh will peel their own chestnuts (Merchant Gourmet at a push).
For the Hooray Henrys, roast potatoes are made with goose fat, and cranberry sauce and bread sauce are made from scratch. Christmas pudding is homemade if you’re eating from the family silver and more likely to be Harrods or Harvey Nicks for the Loadsamoneys. Subtle nuances, but instantly obvious to those in the know.
DRESSING UPWARDLY MOBILE
The older the house, the less reliable the heating, and if the house has been inherited, the posh party will be layering their velvet dresses with thick jumpers and 60 denier tights, and bringing Hunter or Chameau wellies and the Barbour for the after-church walk. More is more.
A HENRY house will naturally be as warm as toast and riddled with such luxuries as under-floor heating and heated towel rails. To this end, clothing will be more sparse; a cold-shoulder top, bare (self-tanned) legs, a sequin boob tube. Keep up. Less is more.
PRESENTS AND CORRECT
This is where HENRYs are very quickly exposed; stockings in the morning and presents after the smoked salmon and fizz is posh. Opening them all in a flurry the second you open your eyes is not. The posh like reasonably inexpensive, thoughtful gifts. Anyone who bought everyone a Tiffany bracelet has committed a serious faux pas. Not only is it showing off, it’s emphasising your wealth. Really not the done thing, darling.
TO TV OR NOT TO TV?
No matter how palatial the pile or large the telly, the only TV that’s high-society acceptable on Christmas Day is the King’s Speech, for which everything else must stop. Watching it on catch-up doesn’t count. Posh person entertainment consists of games: charades (not Give Us A Clue), the Hat Game and Sardines. According to The Crown, the Royal Family says yes to Ibble Dibble, and plenty of Old Etonians (and the like) say yah.
A pug is a very HENRY dog – as is anything that fits into a handbag. They’re far more likely to be locked in the utility or boot room away from food and fun
TOP DOGS
Posh dogs include labs, spaniels and, if the house is large enough, great Danes. Everyone buys presents for the dogs (children might not buy anything for their mother, but they certainly will for Nala), such as pigs’ ears from the butchers, which have to be wrapped. And, of course, dogs ‘buy and wrap’ surprisingly lavish and always practical gifts for all guests. Dogs are allowed on the sofas, to pee on corners, moult everywhere and to tear apart wrapping paper so it’s all over the place.
HENRY dogs are more likely to be cockapoos, pugs or anything that fits into a handbag, and far more likely to be locked in the utility or boot room away from food and fun.
- Annabel Roberts is a pseudonym