I have been called many things in my life, but never boujee. I didn’t come across this “term” until last month when my childhood friend came to visit Toronto from LA. We were walking through the University of Toronto campus and talking about preferring neighborhood coffee shops to chains like Starbucks and Sam James – to which she exclaimed “I don’t even know what you’re saying. You are so boujee!”
Naturally, I was mildly offended but also confused because what is boujee anyway? It sounds derogatory at the time. Let’s discuss right now.
According to some entries of the trusted UrbanDictionary.com, boujee is:
3. Ghetto Fancy
Ok, obviously I am both shocked and appalled at my behavior. I had no idea. I feel that my ignorance in my blatant portrayal of this characteristic has offended and perhaps hurt some people and as such, I would like to apologize properly and specifically.
Here are a few things I would like to apologize for:
I apologize for all the times I told my friends that I’m going to dress casual for a night out but showed up being more dressed up than everyone else. I’m sorry that my casual is not standard casual. Please forgive me Valerie, Mary, Paolo, Jessilynn, Ashley, Nissen, and everyone else.
I’m sorry that you don’t know what a Crémant is and you’ve had no term to use for the subtle bubbly white wine from France that is made with méthode champenoise outside the boundary of the Champagne region. I’m sorry Matt.
I’m sorry that I spell the term boujee as “bougie” because I thought that since it’s derived from the word bourgeois, it should be spelled similar to the root word. I’m sorry Migos.
I’m sorry that I had condoned my friend on ordering a glass of Prosecco at a divey pub because it was hot outside and she preferred to drink something lighter than a pint of beer. I apologize for not setting you straight Kendra.
I’m sorry that I took my childhood bestfriend and her boyfriend to a vegan brunch spot in Venice beach despite him saying he wants some eggs and bacon because I really want to try the avocado toast that GOOP raved about. I’m sorry Jazz and Aumi.
I’m very sorry that I put you on blast on social media because you made me drink warm Rosé and chilled it by plopping an ice cube in the glass like a savage. I’m sorry Trevor.
I’m sorry unnamed friend in university. I’m sorry that I skipped your birthday because I thought your choice of venue is utterly disastrous and RSVP’d to your invite as “No thanks”. Apologies.
I’m sorry that when invited to go to the pool, I wore stylish swimwear that included a bandana, chandelier earrings, and matching matte lipstick. So sorry.
I’m sorry that I ordered a nice Bordeaux to drink at a sporting event and said “Wow, odd how this pairs nicely with the manchego (which I also ordered)”. I’m sorry unnamed Englishman I went on a date with.
I’m sorry that I deprive my staff of delicious happiness by only keeping gluten free and sugar free snacks in the office. I apologize.
I’m sorry that I used the words: art collectif, Bordeaux, isle off the coast of France, and artisanal in one sentence and the day isn’t even half over yet.
Apologies for stating that I’m into lofi hiphop and tropical indie when asked what I’m currently listening to on Spotify. Oh also, I’m sorry for paying for Spotify.
And finally, I’m sorry but not really that sorry because I love liking what I like and thanks for coming up with a new term for it. Love you haters.