I did not have a lot of opportunity in my formative years to do much “fancy” stuff. And I guess by that I mean rich people stuff. Because we weren’t rich. And we lived about a half hour’s drive away from the city, which is where fancy things take place. And at that time, the city wasn’t even really that fancy. Downtown had devolved into an 80’s slump of old brick buildings that housed rubber cleaning companies or something like that.
Downtown has since made a 180 and is now way fancy, packed with a performing arts center, art galleries, wine bars and fancy eating places mixing together all kinds of sweet and salty crap that I’m sure foodies adore and not offering the basic staple of ranch dressing for their uppity salads.
Anyway, my husband and I went to not-so-fancy-yet-still-high-quality state universities, giving us decent-paying jobs so we can occasionally dip our toes into the world of wealth. My fanciest splurge is our ballet season tickets - the good seats. I danced ballet from ages 11-18 (not in the “I’m going to try out for the Joffrey School of Ballet!” but more in the “this is fun, some of the dancers are a little obese, and we have a recital in the spring” way). I’ve always loved it. Anyway, being a season ticket holder means I get invitations in the mail to be part of the ballet guild and attend their balls and other events.
As far as I can tell, the ballet guild consists of women with too much money to work, and they’re bored and want to apply their energy to something they can count as philanthropy but isn’t too dirty. I feel like they narrowed it down like this:
Homeless people: Just too unkempt with intractable problems.
Homeless animals: Fleas. Ringworm. No thanks.
Third-world country issues: Too hot. Lodging too uncomfortable. Good pictures for Instagram, though…
Child charities: Loud, snot-nosed brats running around who could break things.
Disease charities: Umm, maybe, but only if someone I know really well was affected. And sick people are sad …
Ballet Guild: Attractive, young, skinny people who entertain me? YES.
While I could technically afford two tickets to the ballet ball, I could more practically buy 1-2 months’ worth of food for my family for the $500-$600 price of one fancy meal at the ball. And sometimes they have these pre-dinners at guild members’ mansions. I want to roll up to one of those in my scuffed ’05 Ford Focus, dismissively toss the keys to the valet, carry in my purse from Kohl’s and act like I own the place. Then I’d make dazzling conversation about how I do my own taxes and what specials are going to be in the surprise aisle at Aldi this week. (It’s German foods week, in case you were wondering.)
I was recently invited to a charity dinner for a completely different, non-ballet foundation, but it was at a table bought by a company, so I didn’t have to front any of my own money. They did an auction of sorts, but more like, “We need some money for this thing. Who wants to donate $10,000 for that tonight?” And three people were like, “Oh, OK, I will. Yawn.” I could maybe carelessly throw $100 - maybe $200 - out there, but that’s kind of tops for careless money disposal. Who are these fancy people?! I could refinish my basement for $10,000 or maybe pay off our second mortgage.
Don’t get me wrong: we need rich people to donate to these things. We need them to pay more taxes to support those whose earning potential is far lower. We try to give a healthy percentage of our own income to people and organizations who need it more than us. And I guess percentage-wise, maybe $10,000 for the fancy folk is the same as $100 for us.
That said, I do like to pretend I’m fancy by renting expensive dresses. I need more fancy occasions to which I can wear them, so maybe I should try the ballet ball out, after all, and spring for an Uber X.
