Even those who cannot afford the champagne and cars (the majority: this style is particularly popular among low-income teenagers) will do their best to acquire at least a few items of the correct designer clothing, and will boast to anyone who will listen about how much they cost. The 'bling-bling' culture is not so much an exception as a deliberate challenge to mainstream rules of Englishness; it is sticking up two heavily be-ringed fingers at all our unwritten codes of modesty, restraint, diffidence, polite egalitarianism and general hypocrisy. In its own way, it provides confirmation of the enduring importance of these codes - assertion by negation, if you like.
Youth sub-cultures come and go, and this particular example may well already be passe by the time you read this. The next one may pick on some other aspect of mainstream Englishness to rebel against.
Class and Shopping Rules
The shopping-as-saving rule applies across class barriers, and even the bling-bling exception is not class-bound: this style appeals to young people from all social backgrounds, including some upper-class public schoolboys, who seem quite unaware of how silly they look, trying to dress like pimps and walk and talk like tough black 'gangstas' from American inner-city ghettos.
Most other aspects of shopping, however, are deeply entangled in the complexities of the English class system. As might be expected, where you shop is a key class indicator. But it is not a simple matter of the higher social ranks shopping in the more expensive shops, while the lower echelons use the cheaper ones. The upper-middle classes, for example, will hunt for bargains in second-hand and charity shops, which the lower-middle and working classes 'would not be seen dead in'. Yet the upper-middles and middle-middles would be reluctant to buy their groceries in the cheap supermarkets, with names that emphasize their price-consciousness such as Kwiksave and Poundstretcher, favoured by the working classes. Instead, they shop in middle-class supermarkets such as Sainsbury's and Tesco, or the slightly more upper-middle Waitrose.
Not that anyone will admit to choosing a supermarket for its class status, of course. No, we shop in middle-class supermarkets because of the superior quality of the food and the wider range of organic and exotic vegetables, even when we are just buying exactly the same ubiquitous brand-name basics as the working-class shoppers in Kwiksave. We may have no idea what to do with pak choi or how to eat organic celeriac, but we like to know they are there, as we walk past with our Kellogg's corn flakes and Andrex loo paper.
The M amp;S Test
If you want to get an idea of the convoluted intricacy of shopping class-indicators, spend some time observing and interviewing the shoppers in Marks amp; Spencer. In this very English high-street chain, you trip over invisible class barriers in every aisle. M amp;S is a sort of department-store, selling clothes, shoes, furniture, linen, soap, make-up, etc. - as well as food and drink - all under its own brand name.
* The upper-middle classes buy food in the very expensive but high-quality M amp;S food halls, and will also happily buy M amp;S underwear and perhaps the occasional plain, basic item such as a t-shirt, but will not often buy any other clothes there, except perhaps for children - and certainly not anything with a pattern, as this would identify it as being from M amp;S. They would never buy a party dress from M amp;S, and are squeamish about wearing M amp;S shoes, however comfortable or well made they may be. They will buy M amp;S towels and bed-linen, but not M amp;S sofas, curtains or cushions.
* The middle-middles also buy M amp;S food, although those on a lower budget would not do their entire weekly shop here. They complain a bit (to each other, not to M amp;S) about the high prices of M amp;S food, but tell themselves it is worth it for the quality, and buy their cornflakes and loo paper at Sainsbury's. They will buy a much wider range of clothes from M amp;S than the upper-middles, including things with prints and patterns, and they are happy to buy M amp;S sofas, cushions and curtains. Their teenage children, however, may turn up their noses at M amp;S clothes, not for class reasons but because they prefer the more youthful, fashionable high-street chains.
* Lower-middles and some upwardly mobile upper-workings buy M amp;S food, but usually only as a special treat - for some, particularly those with young children, an M amp;S 'ready-meal' is an alternative to eating out at a restaurant, something they might have as an indulgence, maybe once a week. They cannot afford to food-shop here regularly, and regard anyone who does as extravagant and quite possibly 'stuck-up'. 'My sister-in-law buys all her veg and washing-up liquid and everything from Marks, stupid cow,' a middle-aged woman told me, with a disdainful, disapproving sniff. 'It's just showing off - thinks she's better than us.' M amp;S clothes, on the other hand, are generally regarded as 'good value' by the thrifty, respectable, genteel sort of lower-middles: 'Not cheap, mind you, but good quality'. Some lower-middles feel the same about the cushions and duvets and towels, while others regard them as 'very nice, but a bit too pricey'.
If you need to make a quick assessment of an English shopper's social class, don't ask about her family background, income, occupation or the value of her house (all of which would in any case be rude): ask her what she does and does not buy at Marks amp; Spencer. I say 'she' because this test only works reliably on women: men are often blissfully unaware of the yawning social gulf between M amp;S knickers and an M amp;S patterned dress.
Pet Rules and 'Petiquette'
Keeping pets, for the English, is not so much a leisure activity as an entire way of life. In fact, 'keeping pets' is an inaccurate and inadequate expression - it does not begin to convey the exalted status of our animals. An Englishman's home may be his castle, but his dog is the real king. People in other countries may buy luxurious five-star kennels and silk-lined baskets for their pets, but the English let them take over the whole house. The unwritten rules allow our dogs and cats to sprawl all over our sofas and chairs, always hogging the best places in front of the fire or television. They get far more attention, affection, appreciation, encouragement and 'quality time' than our children, and often better food. Imagine the most over-indulged, feted, adored bambino in Italy, and you will get a rough idea of the status of the average English pet. We had the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals long before the establishment of the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, which appears to have been founded as a somewhat derivative afterthought.
Why is this? What is it about the English and animals? Yes, many other cultures have pets, and some, particularly our colonial descendants, are in their own ways as soppy about them as we are, but the English inordinate love of animals is still one of the characteristics for which we are renowned, and which many foreigners find baffling. The Americans may outdo us in gushy sentimentality and extravagant expenditure on pets - all those cheesy, tear-jerker films, elaborate pet cemeteries, luxury toys and dogs got up in ludicrous designer costumes. But then they always outdo us in gushiness and conspicuous consumption.
The English relationship with animals is different: our pets are more than status indicators (although they do serve this purpose) and our affinity with them goes well beyond sentimentality. It is often said that we treat them like people, but this is not true. Have you seen how we treat people? It would be unthinkable to be so cold and unfriendly to an animal. OK, I'm exaggerating - a bit. But the fact is that we tend to be far more open, easy, communicative and demonstrative in our relationships with our animals than with each other.
The average Englishman will assiduously avoid social interaction with his fellow humans, and will generally become either awkward or aggressive when obliged to communicate with them, unless certain props and facilitators are available to help the process along. He will have no difficulty at all, however, in engaging in lively, amicable conversation with a dog. Even a strange dog, to whom he has not been introduced. Bypassing all the usual stilted embarrassments, his greeting will be effusive: 'Hello there!' he will exclaim, 'What's your name? And where have you come from, then? D'you want some of my sandwich, mate? Mmm, yes, it's not bad, is it? Here, come up and share my seat! Plenty of room!'