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BOOKS | SOCIETY

Bad Taste by Nathalie Olah review — fashion snobs, beware!

From leopard print to all-grey interiors: who decides what is tasteful, and why it matters

Kim Kardashian in her monochrome living room
Kim Kardashian in her monochrome living room
SKIMS/PLANET PHOTOS
The Sunday Times

Listen, the rule is simple: if the book cover features leopard print, I assume I’m going to have fun. Nathalie Olah’s Bad Taste is covered in the stuff, and it felt like a good sign.

The author is a nanny and tutor turned accidental marketing creative then writer. Despite her working-class roots, she has observed the elites from up close. Her new book promises to take us on a journey from fashion and beauty to homes, food and leisure, explaining along the way why “taste” corrodes everything it touches.

Although advice in fashion magazines and absurd dishes in expensive restaurants may seem frivolous, Olah argues that the problems run much deeper. By dictating how normal people ought to live their lives, the ruling class gets to conserve its special status and plunge everyone else into a state of constant anxiety. “In the way of religion and the promise of the afterlife,” she writes, “style and acceptance are never destinations one reaches, but always yearns for and seeks to attain through continual study, maintenance and up-keep”. It is an exhausting way to live.

Take that old mantra “less is more”. According to Olah, it seeks to achieve “a minimalism that conceals the efforts of its creation”. It is now chic to look like you aren’t wearing anything on your face and are naturally glowing. But, she asks, does “the conscious effort to drink over two litres of water a day constitute something more natural than the application of heavy foundation or powder?”

It is an interesting question. False eyelashes and bright pink lips seem tacky because they imply that the wearer has put too much thought into her appearance. Aiming to look “naturally” beautiful involves just as much work, but the labour behind it is hidden.

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When discussing interior design, of all-grey palettes she notes that “what began in fashionable urban enclaves soon found its way into the luxury spaces as well as the suburban mainstream”. While monochromatic and minimalist interior design was once a sign of class and subtle wealth, the “50 shades of grey” look is now mostly associated with Essex-based influencers, ie tasteless.

Later on Olah points out that the tech industry seems “to actively reject any indication of its wealth or power through dress”, but doesn’t seem to know why. There is little in there about the male domination of the industry, the psychological profile of people drawn to coding, or how being taken seriously despite refusing to look smart can be a form of power.

Silicon Valley men-children became rich beyond belief without having to bend to the demands of tastemakers, and in the process became tastemakers themselves. Olah mentions elsewhere that the man who designed Bill Gates’s house then became the architect of choice for celebrities like Kim Kardashian. Nerds influencing TV celebs may seem absurd, but, ultimately, wealth always wins.

Influencers like Mrs Hinch favour the grey interiors look — but how did it become fashionable?
Influencers like Mrs Hinch favour the grey interiors look — but how did it become fashionable?

Frustratingly, some of the book’s arguments get watered down by irrelevant tangents. Take Olah’s tirade against Tough Mudder, an endurance event series apparently beloved by people who work for Deloitte. It is true that the sight of white-collar workers seeking extreme adventures is bleakly amusing, but, ironically, it may also show a hint of snobbery on Olah’s part.

There are also a number of dour (and unnecessary) asides. The Financial Times’s HTSI (How to Spend It) supplement “encapsulates the blind march of late capitalism”. Elizabeth Taylor’s jewellery line is “problematic of course for its inclusion of many diamonds”.

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I wonder who the book is for. People who enjoy endless remarks on capitalism and its many ills probably already agreed with the wider thesis before even opening it.

At the end Olah writes that one can only conclude that “the fixation with taste constitutes a form of violence”. Again, there lies the issue at the centre of her work. If you already thought taste was one of the many ways in which the ruling class sought to keep everyone else in check, then you were on board already. If you didn’t, the comparison to violence will seem outlandish.

Bad Taste by Nathalie Olah (Dialogue £18.99). To order a copy go to timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members.

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