A really tacky thing from ItalyThe most feared word in the South is the one that hurts so much if it is applied to you, something you wear, something you do, something you own. The scene would be perhaps a hunt club ball, with all the men in tuxedos and all the women in full-length gowns. One of the men from a semi-distinguished family decides to be flamboyant only in that he wears a ruffled shirt with his black bow tie, his real onyx studs and cufflinks, his nothing-but-cotton low-gloss black cummerbund, his black and polished wing-tipped shoes. He should not have worn that shirt. Someone comes up to him, someone from an older family with a fancier name, and says, loudly enough to be heard by those around them, "Fred, that just isn’t done." The women off to one side start chattering, and the fearful word comes up, tacky.
God help Fred. He must slink off to the corner of the ball or go home and change his shirt, right now. His wife is ashamed, blushing darker than her rouge or her lipstick. They will never live it down. In an earlier time, Fred would have had to challenge the distinguished gentleman to a duel the next morning, to save what was left of his honor. And all this was caused by his tackiness.
That was the law of the old South, and it is still around, say, in the wine selection at an exclusive local country club. You wouldn’t own a pink Lexus, would you, if you were from old money? Your swimming pool wouldn’t have a plastic liner, but a Gunite one, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t have a new yard ornament as compared with an ancient fountain, would you? --especially not a gnome with a funny hat. Your shutters (you do have shutters, don’t you?) have to be Charleston black-green. Your car should have leather seats, even if it is a Honda. You can eat rare tuna, but not Spam, certainly. And the family four-poster bed is less tacky than a king-size.
There is a variant on tackiness, and that is redneckedness. I like the sound of that made-up word which should be pronounced "rednekkid-ness," I have to admit, but I have heard "redneck" used as an adjective, in public, as in "Why, honey, that’s so redneck!" I think it was tacky to say that, but redneckedness, the state of being a redneck, is certainly perceived as being worse than being tacky. If you want the ultimate in irony, the very person who thinks rednecks (whatever they are) are awful might just be trying to save themselves from tackiness or separate themselves from rednecks. I sort-of resent the label redneck, because I have owned a farm, driven a tractor, and taken in the hay, and I have known a lot of gentlemen farmers and lady farm wives, basically and fundamentally decent and polite, hospitable people who worked hard for a living. Certainly they weren’t leering mountain men or Daisy Mae farm wives or Appalachian ignoramuses who had gun racks in their pickups and shot hippies on sight. But the backs of their necks might have been red from constant exposure to the sun. I don’t use "redneck" any more than I would the n–word, or any other racial or ethnic filthy and hurtful prejudicial tag, but that’s just me: "redneck" is a colorful word, and many local people, black and white, use it colorfully.
But what of the social distinctions made by the people who say "draperies" but would never say "drapes"? They think saying "drapes" is tacky, like saying "divan" (pronounced "dye-van") instead of "sofa," but is making those sorts of distinctions all bad? In Virginia, I was taught that saying "pee-can" was incorrect and of the lower classes; here in South Carolina, though, you had better not say "p-cahn." It may be bad to discriminate against fat people just for being overweight, which they may not be able to help because of glands or unhappy obsessive behavior, but what about letting fat people know that their being fat will kill them, or letting smokers know that smoking will do the same thing, quicker, to themselves and to those loved ones breathing secondhand smoke? These are all touchy issues, like purchasing hair-straighteners and skin-whiteners, painting your face according to Max Factor, using depilatories, having boob-restorations, buying wigs and toupees and hair-dye, having tummy-tucks and face-lifts performed (look at poor Michael Jackson, having to lie about that to Barbara Walters). Which of these things do we do or not do, for fear of being called tacky?
God help Fred. He must slink off to the corner of the ball or go home and change his shirt, right now. His wife is ashamed, blushing darker than her rouge or her lipstick. They will never live it down. In an earlier time, Fred would have had to challenge the distinguished gentleman to a duel the next morning, to save what was left of his honor. And all this was caused by his tackiness.
That was the law of the old South, and it is still around, say, in the wine selection at an exclusive local country club. You wouldn’t own a pink Lexus, would you, if you were from old money? Your swimming pool wouldn’t have a plastic liner, but a Gunite one, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t have a new yard ornament as compared with an ancient fountain, would you? --especially not a gnome with a funny hat. Your shutters (you do have shutters, don’t you?) have to be Charleston black-green. Your car should have leather seats, even if it is a Honda. You can eat rare tuna, but not Spam, certainly. And the family four-poster bed is less tacky than a king-size.
There is a variant on tackiness, and that is redneckedness. I like the sound of that made-up word which should be pronounced "rednekkid-ness," I have to admit, but I have heard "redneck" used as an adjective, in public, as in "Why, honey, that’s so redneck!" I think it was tacky to say that, but redneckedness, the state of being a redneck, is certainly perceived as being worse than being tacky. If you want the ultimate in irony, the very person who thinks rednecks (whatever they are) are awful might just be trying to save themselves from tackiness or separate themselves from rednecks. I sort-of resent the label redneck, because I have owned a farm, driven a tractor, and taken in the hay, and I have known a lot of gentlemen farmers and lady farm wives, basically and fundamentally decent and polite, hospitable people who worked hard for a living. Certainly they weren’t leering mountain men or Daisy Mae farm wives or Appalachian ignoramuses who had gun racks in their pickups and shot hippies on sight. But the backs of their necks might have been red from constant exposure to the sun. I don’t use "redneck" any more than I would the n–word, or any other racial or ethnic filthy and hurtful prejudicial tag, but that’s just me: "redneck" is a colorful word, and many local people, black and white, use it colorfully.
But what of the social distinctions made by the people who say "draperies" but would never say "drapes"? They think saying "drapes" is tacky, like saying "divan" (pronounced "dye-van") instead of "sofa," but is making those sorts of distinctions all bad? In Virginia, I was taught that saying "pee-can" was incorrect and of the lower classes; here in South Carolina, though, you had better not say "p-cahn." It may be bad to discriminate against fat people just for being overweight, which they may not be able to help because of glands or unhappy obsessive behavior, but what about letting fat people know that their being fat will kill them, or letting smokers know that smoking will do the same thing, quicker, to themselves and to those loved ones breathing secondhand smoke? These are all touchy issues, like purchasing hair-straighteners and skin-whiteners, painting your face according to Max Factor, using depilatories, having boob-restorations, buying wigs and toupees and hair-dye, having tummy-tucks and face-lifts performed (look at poor Michael Jackson, having to lie about that to Barbara Walters). Which of these things do we do or not do, for fear of being called tacky?
Really tacky thing from Italy, up close:
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