Are our parents rich or something? Um, remember those days of yester-year, where social etiquette dictated at a dinner party one didn’t discuss certain topics? I recall, many politics and religion. Or as I prefer sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.
But it’s all much of a muchness. There is a huge misconception from people who meet me or see my home that prompt people to ask “Are your parents Rich?”
Um, define rich? And in any way, shape or form. No, my parents were not rich.
I was raised in a single income family and when I was about thirteen my mum also returned to work for a few years before having my youngest sibling. Mum would say that income she had clothed us. I recalled being fifteen and having one pair of jeans, one shirt and I don’t recall what I wore the rest of the time.
Anyway, again people visit my home and they assume someone has given me all the nice things in my home. I don’t have expensive furniture, some of my furniture is even second-hand. I just have an eye for “things” and I like to collect things. I have pine furniture (so cheap) that for my bookcases and when you enter my front door, you are greeted by my Artbook collection and my Vogue Living collection, which I’ve been building on both for 20+ years. It didn’t happen overnight, but consistency is the key.
Not only is it that they see I’m doing better than they are, however, they see that they want what I have.