10 items in an upper-middle-class person's home that they don't even realize are status symbols

I was at a friend's place in Silver Lake last weekend, admiring what I thought was just a nice kitchen setup. Then it hit me: that wasn't just any coffee maker on the counter.

That was a $3,000 statement about priorities, taste, and yes, economic standing.

The thing about status symbols is that the really effective ones don't announce themselves. They whisper. And nowhere is this more true than in the homes of the upper-middle class, where displaying wealth too obviously is considered tacky, but displaying nothing at all suggests you haven't made it.

So let's talk about the quiet flexes. The items that signal "we're doing well" without screaming it from the rooftops.

1) The espresso machine that could fund a used car

Walk into certain homes and you'll spot it immediately: a gleaming espresso machine that looks like it belongs in a European café. We're talking La Marzocco, Rocket, or Slayer territory here.

The owner will casually mention they "just like good coffee," which is technically true. But what they're really saying is they have the disposable income to drop several thousand dollars on a appliance they could easily replace with a $30 French press.

I've been guilty of this kind of thinking myself. When I transitioned to veganism eight years ago, I convinced myself I needed a high-end blender for smoothies. Did I need a Vitamix? Absolutely not. Did it make me feel like I was taking my plant-based journey seriously? You bet.

The espresso machine serves the same psychological function. It's a daily reminder that you've arrived, disguised as a simple preference for quality.

2) Books arranged by color

This one makes me laugh every time I see it. Someone has taken their entire book collection and organized it by spine color, creating a rainbow effect that looks stunning on Instagram.

Here's what this really signals: you have enough books to make this worth the effort, enough space to display them, and enough time to maintain a system that's actively hostile to actually finding anything you want to read.

My own apartment in Venice Beach has books scattered everywhere, organized by a system only I understand. They're stacked on my desk, piled next to my vinyl collection, wedged between photography equipment. It's chaos, but at least I can find what I need.

The color-coded bookshelf isn't about reading. It's about aesthetics. And having the luxury to prioritize aesthetics over function is its own kind of privilege.

3) Kitchen appliances you've used exactly once

The Instant Pot gathering dust. The spiralizer still in its box. The bread maker that saw action for two weeks before retirement.

Upper-middle-class kitchens are graveyards of aspirational purchases. Each appliance represents not just money spent, but a certain vision of domestic life: the person who makes fresh bread weekly, who meal-preps like a professional, who has time for elaborate culinary projects.

The status isn't in using these things. It's in being able to afford experiments that don't pan out. It's having kitchen space to store your failures. It's the cushion to say "well, that was a waste" and move on without stress.

4) The "I just threw this together" cheese board

You know the one. It appears at casual gatherings, featuring multiple cheeses you've never heard of, arranged on a wooden board that costs more than most people's weekly grocery budget. There are tiny jars of fig jam, marcona almonds, and honeycomb that looks like it was harvested by artisanal bees.

The host will insist they "just grabbed a few things," which is code for "I spent an hour at Whole Foods and $80 on appetizers."

Since going vegan, I've had to get creative with my own contributions to these gatherings. I'll show up with cashew cheese I've made myself, various hummus varieties, and whatever interesting plant-based spreads I've discovered. My partner, who's been with me for five years and still loves pepperoni pizza, finds this hilarious. But the principle is the same: we're all performing a certain level of culinary sophistication.

5) Furniture that prioritizes form over comfort

That mid-century modern chair that looks incredible but feels like sitting on a wooden plank? Status symbol. The minimalist couch that photographs beautifully but offers no lumbar support? Status symbol.

Upper-middle-class homes often feature furniture chosen for its design pedigree rather than its comfort. These are spaces curated for how they look, not necessarily how they feel to live in.

I learned this lesson when furnishing my own place. The minimalist aesthetic influenced by California lifestyle looked great on Pinterest, but some of those pieces were torture to actually use. Eventually, I had to admit that style points don't matter if you're dreading sitting in your own living room.

6) The "casual" bar cart

It's stocked with craft gin, artisanal bitters, and multiple types of vermouth. There are copper cocktail tools and specialty glassware. Maybe even a cocktail recipe book positioned just so.

This isn't about being an alcoholic or even particularly enjoying cocktails. It's about projecting a certain lifestyle: sophisticated, worldly, always ready to entertain. It says "we have people over" and "we know the difference between well gin and the good stuff."

The bar cart has become such a recognizable marker that it's now being co-opted by non-drinkers who fill theirs with elaborate mocktail ingredients and kombucha. Same performance, different beverages.

7) Throw pillows that serve no actual purpose

Walk into an upper-middle-class living room and count the decorative pillows. I'll wait.

These aren't the pillows you rest your head on. These are the pillows you remove before sitting down, then carefully replace before guests arrive. They coordinate with the room's color scheme. They might have trendy sayings or patterns. They cost $40 each at minimum.

The status symbol isn't the pillows themselves. It's having a home where things can be purely decorative. It's the labor of maintaining this aesthetic. It's caring about how your couch looks when nobody's sitting on it.

8) Organic everything, including cleaning products

The cleaning supplies under the sink tell a story. If everything is from brands like Method, Mrs. Meyer's, or Seventh Generation, you're looking at someone who can afford to pay extra for values alignment.

I get it. Since transitioning to a plant-based lifestyle, I've become more conscious of what I bring into my home. But there's no denying that ethical consumption is easier when you have economic cushion. The person buying conventional cleaning products at the dollar store isn't making a moral choice; they're making a financial one.

Upper-middle-class homes signal their values through purchasing power. Every organic label is a tiny flag saying "we care, and we can afford to prove it."

9) The "mudroom" that's cleaner than most kitchens

This is the entryway with built-in storage, individual cubbies for each family member, a bench with hidden compartments, and hooks that probably cost more than the coats hanging on them.

The mudroom represents a very specific kind of family life: one with enough square footage for dedicated transitional space, enough stuff to require elaborate organization, and enough attention to detail that even the room where you remove dirty shoes looks magazine-ready.

It's Martha Stewart energy applied to the messiest part of the home. It's control and order extended to every corner. It's having so much space that you can dedicate an entire room to the act of coming and going.

10) Plants, but make it expensive

Not just any plants. We're talking fiddle leaf figs, monsteras, and bird of paradise plants in designer pots. Maybe there's even a vertical garden wall or a greenhouse window for herbs.

The upper-middle-class relationship with houseplants goes beyond basic greenery. These are statement plants that require research, maintenance, and financial investment. They signal that you have time to care for living things, space to accommodate them, and taste to select the trendy varieties.

When I started growing herbs on my balcony, I thought I was being practical. And I am! Fresh basil for cooking, mint for tea, cilantro for my Thai curries. But I'd be lying if I said there wasn't also a satisfaction in having that visible green life, in being able to say "oh, I grew this myself."

The bottom line

Here's the thing about status symbols: recognizing them doesn't make you shallow or judgmental. It makes you observant.

We all signal our identity through our possessions, whether we mean to or not. The upper-middle class just happens to have refined this into an art form where the signals are subtle enough to maintain plausible deniability.

I've mentioned this before, but understanding the psychology behind our choices is crucial for self-awareness. These items aren't inherently bad. That espresso machine makes genuinely better coffee. Those plants do improve air quality. The organic cleaning products probably are better for the environment.

The question worth asking is: are we choosing these things because they align with our actual values and needs, or because they signal something we want others to believe about us?

There's no wrong answer, by the way. Just honest ones and dishonest ones. And if you're reading this while sipping a latte from your $3,000 machine, surrounded by color-coded books and perfectly arranged throw pillows? Well, at least now you know what you're really displaying.