Growing up working-class outside Manchester, I thought I understood English pretty well. Then I moved to London for university and discovered I’d been speaking a completely different language my entire life.
During my first week, a classmate casually mentioned their family’s “place in the Cotswolds” where they went for “exeats.” Another talked about their gap year “interrailing” before starting at their “backup uni” after missing their Oxford offer. I nodded along, pretending to understand, while frantically googling these terms on my phone under the table.
What struck me wasn’t just the unfamiliar vocabulary. It was how effortlessly these words rolled off their tongues, signaling membership in an exclusive club I didn’t even know existed. My father, who worked in a factory and taught me everything about how power operates through his union work, had never prepared me for this particular lesson: that language itself could be a form of social currency.
After years of observing and researching this phenomenon, I’ve discovered there’s an entire vocabulary that wealthy families deliberately pass down to their children. These aren’t just fancy words for everyday things. They’re linguistic markers that instantly communicate class, education, and belonging to those who recognize them.
1. The geography of privilege
Wealthy families don’t just talk about places differently; they reference an entirely different map of the world. While most of us might say we’re going on holiday to France, upper-class children learn to specify they’re “summering in Provence” or heading to “the house in Bordeaux.”
They don’t go skiing; they go to “Verbier” or “Courchevel.” Not the beach, but “the Hamptons” or “Martha’s Vineyard.” These aren’t just destination names. They’re carefully curated signals that communicate not just wealth, but the right kind of wealth.
I once heard a colleague mention offhandedly that her family always spent August in their “usual spot” without ever naming it. The assumption was that everyone in the conversation would understand these coded references to second homes and annual traditions that span generations.
The real power move? Never explaining these references. The expectation is that if you belong, you already know.
2. Educational encoding
The vocabulary around education might be the most revealing of all. Wealthy families don’t send their children to private school; they send them to “public school” (in the British sense) or “independent school.” They don’t talk about college; they discuss whether Johnnie will “read” history at Cambridge or economics at LSE.
There’s “Michaelmas term” instead of fall semester, “tutorials” rather than classes, and “going up” to university rather than simply starting. Children learn to casually drop in their “prep school” experiences or mention their “housemaster” from boarding school.
What fascinated me when I started noticing this was how these terms create instant recognition among those who share similar backgrounds. It’s like a secret handshake performed entirely through vocabulary.
3. The subtle art of understatement
Perhaps the most sophisticated aspect of upper-class vocabulary is what isn’t said. Wealthy families teach their children the art of the euphemism and understatement. They’re never rich; they’re “comfortable.” They don’t have a mansion; it’s just “the house.” That million-pound renovation? Simply “doing a bit to the place.”
This extends to achievements too. Getting into Harvard isn’t a big deal; it’s “rather pleased.” A successful business venture that nets millions is “doing reasonably well.” The family company that employs hundreds is “the little business.”
I’ve noticed this creates a particular kind of power dynamic. By understating everything, they force others to already know their status rather than having to announce it. It’s the opposite of nouveau riche ostentation, and it’s devastatingly effective.
4. Cultural capital in conversation
Wealthy children learn early to pepper conversations with references that assume shared cultural knowledge. They don’t just mention going to the theater; they reference “catching the matinee at the National” or “popping into the Royal Opera House.”
Art isn’t just art; it’s “the new exhibition at the Tate Modern” or “the Venetian Biennale.” They don’t watch sports; they attend “Henley” or “Wimbledon” or discuss their “box at Lords.”
These references do double duty. They signal not just the financial ability to access these spaces but the cultural sophistication to appreciate them in the “right” way. It’s assumed you know what these places are, when their seasons run, and why they matter.
5. Professional positioning
The vocabulary around work and careers operates on an entirely different level in wealthy families. They don’t look for jobs; they explore “opportunities.” They don’t network; they “catch up with father’s old friend from the club.”
Internships aren’t internships; they’re “work experience at Goldman’s” or “a stint at the Foreign Office.” Career paths aren’t discussed in terms of salary or stability but whether something would be “interesting” or “worthwhile.”
What struck me most was learning that many wealthy families teach their children never to ask directly what someone does for work. Instead, it’s “What keeps you busy?” or “What are you up to these days?” The assumption being that work might not be the defining feature of someone’s life if they’re sufficiently wealthy.
6. The dinner table difference
Food vocabulary might seem trivial, but it’s one of the most consistent class markers. Wealthy families don’t have dinner; they have “supper” at home and “dinner” when it’s formal. It’s not the living room; it’s the “drawing room” or “sitting room.” The bathroom is the “loo,” never the toilet.
They teach their children to understand the difference between “pudding” and dessert, to know what “elevenses” means, and to never call the evening meal “tea” unless it’s actually afternoon tea with sandwiches and scones.
These might seem like ridiculous distinctions, but they serve a purpose. Each one is a small test, a way of instantly identifying whether someone shares your background or not.
The bottom line
After years of observing and adapting to these linguistic codes, I’ve come to realize that this secret vocabulary isn’t really about the words themselves. It’s about creating and maintaining social boundaries through language.
These verbal signals work because they’re taught informally, absorbed through countless family dinners and casual conversations rather than studied from a book. You can’t fake the natural ease with which someone who grew up with this vocabulary deploys it.
Does this mean those of us who didn’t grow up with this linguistic inheritance are forever locked out? Not necessarily. But it does mean recognizing that language is never neutral. Every word choice, every reference, every casual mention carries social weight.
Understanding this secret vocabulary won’t magically open all doors, but it does help explain why some doors seem to open more easily for others. And sometimes, just knowing the game exists is the first step to changing it.
