I grew up as a typical middle-class kid in a very rich neighbourhood. Looking back, I still think it‘s ridiculous that rich mothers would dress their sons in unbelievably expensive clothes they grew out of within the blink of an eye. And most importantly: the kids didn‘t care what was thrown onto their back. That surely changed when we entered our teens: the „snobs“ – as we called them – had a uniform. The boys wore Barbour jackets and Ralph Lauren Polos. The girls wore the same, with two additions: pearl earrings and a Longchamp Pliage. I hated that bag. It stood against everything my rebellious, Nirvana-obsessed self was believing in. It was an evil symbol if you will.
