Naff 

A Rumination on Taste and Tastelessness 

Grace Plowden 

Last summer I went on a Hinge date with a guy from New Jersey. We sat outside a Williamsburg restaurant that called itself an “eatery” and tried to suss each other out over frozen margaritas (mine) and fish tacos (his). At some point, he asked me what kind of music I listened to. I told him I loved shitty music: corny country and sappy pop. He was surprised. Apparently I didn’t give off that kind of vibe. 

The kind of vibe I did give off likely had something to do with how he received my cut-glass British accent. I have been told that in America, my accent lends me a cool aura of authority. I have also been told that it sounds clunkily polite, in a way that suggests I want everyone to like me.