You know you weren’t raised rich if you still think these 7 outfits are “fancy”

As a kid, nothing made me feel fancier than stiff shoes and a too-tight button-up at family parties. I hated how they felt, but to me, that outfit meant rich.

Years later, I laughed when a coworker wore sneakers with a silk skirt to a wedding. Sneakers! Meanwhile, I was still convinced patent leather heels were the only “appropriate” choice.

That’s the funny thing about “fancy.” It’s less about the clothes and more about where you grew up.

Why “fancy” becomes armor

For many of us, “fancy” meant sequins for parties, suits for church, and shoes you only wore once a year. Those memories stick, so we cling to the idea that effort equals elegance.

But wealth plays by different rules. People with money often choose comfort that whispers—cashmere sweaters, soft tailoring—over outfits that scream.For the rest of us, overdressing becomes armor: proof we belong, even if money stress sits in the background.

The seven outfits that give us away

So, what are the classic giveaways that you weren’t raised rich? Here are seven I’ve seen, lived, and yes—worn:

1. Shiny dress shoes you never wear otherwise.

My cousin once polished his shoes with Vaseline before a wedding, convinced they had to gleam like mirrors. He strutted in like he was auditioning for Saturday Night Fever, but by the end of the night, he was limping. Those shoes looked rich, but they felt like punishment. True wealth hides in comfort—a pair of well-kept sneakers or loafers soft enough to bend with your foot. Wealthy people don’t limp home from dinner; they glide.

2. Overly stiff blazers.

I’ll never forget wearing my first blazer to a job interview. It felt like armor, except instead of protecting me, it pinned my arms like a scarecrow. I smiled through clenched shoulders, praying the seams wouldn’t pop when I shook hands. Blazers that scream “fancy” often betray our roots—they’re boxy, itchy, and bought last-minute. Wealthy folks? Their blazers have already molded to their bodies. You can’t tell where the fabric ends and the person begins.

3. Sequined “party tops.”

For years, my go-to “night out” look was a glittery top that left a trail of sequins everywhere I sat, like a sparkly breadcrumb path home. It felt glamorous at the time—like I belonged in a Destiny’s Child music video. The catch? Sequins read as effort. They shout, I tried! In contrast, a wealthy woman may toss on a plain silk blouse that costs as much as a month’s rent. No sparkles needed—the fabric itself whispers elegance.

4. Logo belts that scream instead of whisper.

My first “big girl” purchase was a belt with a buckle so oversized it could double as a dinner plate. I thought it was my ticket into sophistication. Instead, it was like wearing a billboard across my waist: See? I can afford this! The truth is, the richest people I’ve met rarely wear logos at all. Their belts are buttery leather with invisible branding. It’s a quiet flex: if you know, you know. If you don’t, that’s the point.

5. The “church suit.”

Every family had one. Mine was a powder-blue skirt suit that came out for Easter, Christmas, and any wedding within a 50-mile radius. I loved it—it made me feel grown-up and proper, like a young First Lady. But outside those events, the outfit looked like a relic. Wealthy circles don’t recycle “event uniforms.” They mix and match timeless pieces that work anywhere. A church suit, no matter how sharp, tells the world: this is my one fancy outfit, and I’m using it.

6. Over-coordinated outfits.

My mom believed matching was the holy grail of elegance. Shoes, purse, belt—all the same shade of burgundy. To her, it was proof of polish. But too much coordination looks less like chic and more like a department-store display. Meanwhile, watch how wealthy people dress: they pair neutral bags with bold sneakers, or muted coats with unexpected pops of color. Their secret? The confidence that comes from not needing everything to line up. Over-matching says, See, I worked hard at this. Understated mix-and-match says, I didn’t have to.

7. Anything that feels like a costume.

This one stings. I once wore a floor-length gown to a dinner I thought was black-tie. Everyone else showed up in cocktail dresses or chic trousers. I spent the night tugging at my hem, feeling like a kid in a school play. That’s the giveaway: when an outfit feels like you’re playing a role instead of being yourself. The wealthy rarely wear costumes; they wear clothes that look effortless because they fit their lives. Real luxury isn’t looking like you belong in a movie—it’s looking like you belong to yourself.

Final words

The next time you’re tempted to pull out the blazer that feels like armor or the glitter top that only shines under fluorescent lights, pause. Ask yourself: Am I wearing this because it reflects me—or because it reflects who I thought I had to be?

Recently, while reading Rudá Iandê’s book Laughing in the Face of Chaos, one line landed hard:

“When we let go of the need to be perfect, we free ourselves to live fully—embracing the mess, complexity, and richness of a life that's delightfully real.” 

His insights reminded me that authenticity is richer than any outfit.

Your definition of “fancy” might always carry traces of where you came from. That’s okay.

But the real wealth is in updating the story, choosing comfort and authenticity, and letting your style reflect who you’ve become.