Instead, they decide to either keep quiet about their background or warp their origin story to align with working-class experiences

From Paris Hilton to the Kardashian family, being open about how much money you had started to be seen as cheap. (Picture: Issy Gladston)

For a long time, I considered trickle-up to be a win for progression

But at the opposite end of the spectrum, there is a whole host of fairly wealthy people who are desperate to conceal that they are surrounded by money. People who are eager to convince those around them of their working-class credentials, despite the fact that their parents supplement their income and paid their deposit when they bought a property. As I found myself speaking to more and more people from middle- and upper-class backgrounds, I realised that they don’t see being poor as a rigid socioeconomic standard dictated by your income and quality of life.

Instead, to many people, being ‘poor’ exists on an imaginary spectrum that genuinely hard-up people never have the pleasure to even consider. For some of them, it means not being able to afford dinner out multiple times a week, missing out on one of their four holidays abroad, or dipping into the savings accounts their parents set up for them. While growing up poor is actually debilitating in terms of opportunities and experiences, those who are rich have become ashamed to admit that their wealth may have helped them.

“No matter how genuinely interesting or original a piece of clothing, music, art or writing is, your success is capped – both monetarily and in terms of reach – unless someone further up the social food chain can profit from it”

Influential people struggle to accept that they are rich, and spend their time fetishising the experiences of those who aren’t. At the opposite end of the conversation, those who are poor or who grew up without abundance are left feeling gaslighted by the people they see wearing head-to-toe designer, living in their own flats and buying expensive furniture while in the same breath bragging about their latest claim to have no disposable cash left at the end wat is indiancupid of each month.

Until the fifties and sixties, trickle-down theory prevailed: working-class people were considered too culturally lacking to pioneer or create, and the upper classes dictated fashion trends and beauty norms, which then worked their way down into the mainstream. This is similar to how the high street operates now: we see the Miu Miu runway, and six months later, similar items start popping up in H&M. However, beginning halfway through the twentieth century, and continuing right up to the present day, trickle-up theory is thought to be more culturally relevant in contemporary arts and culture. It refers to trends originating in working-class or marginalised cultures that then penetrate class barriers and are adopted by those in the upper echelons of society. Denim becoming socially acceptable in the sixties, the grunge movement of the nineties, and even T-shirts transforming from military wear to everyday essentials are all examples of this.

Trickle-up theory can be observed in practically every cultural movement and trend we see today, whether it’s a fickle obsession with diversity, streetwear, or the thousands of micro-trends we see across our Instagram Explore pages on a regular basis. I understood it as a way for marginalised people to have their contributions recognised. But the longer I spent observing these trends, the more I understood trickle-up culture as another way to exploit people who innovate but do not have the resources to capitalise on their own ideas.