What follows is an account of following the “Old Money” Diet for a day. Results may vary. N=1.
While perusing Pinterest last week, the algorithm delivered a curious post to me.
“’Old Money’ Eating,” the post’s bolded title read. It was a collage. At the center of the image, French film star Alain Delon, sipping a glass of wine at a linen-covered table.
Surrounding the young Delon were various images of food and accompanying captions.
In no particular order: nocellara del belice olives, raw oysters, vino, heavy cream and butter sauces, espresso, fresh figs, tomahawk steak, foie gras, prosciutto, seeded grapes, caviar, parmesan, tiramisu, royal jelly, and real baguette.
There was the username in the middle of the post: “@rawroyaljelly.” I went to Instagram. I typed in the name.
“Old money never eats for macros.”
“They eat for life.”
A long, likely ChatGPT-generated caption accompanied a long slideshow of posts cribbed from X, interspersed with Jelly’s own X posts.
I pulled out my pencil and notepad and began taking notes.
“Zero cortisol,” captioned a photo of Europeans dining at an outdoor cafe.
“A study on Italians found that the more olive oil you consume, the skinnier you get. It’s olive oil maxxing summer.”
“My Italian grandpa owns an onion farm and occasionally decides to take naps in the middle of the field.”
I called my non-Italian grandpa, who does not own an onion farm.
“I heard it’s olive oil maxxing summer.”
“What?”
It was no use. If I wanted to join the ranks of Old Money, I would have to try out the diet for myself.
Jelly specifies that certain lifestyle changes are to accompany the diet. You must begin with a slow morning. You must have long meals. You must get daily movement, be “low stress,” and eat “real food.”
Jelly also clarifies: “Old money isn’t a diet. It’s a standard.” This did confuse me, seeing as Jelly’s own graphics referred to “The Old Money Diet.” So I ignored it.
With that, I went to bed, sound in my resolve to become an Old Money Dieter.
Breakfast
I took my breakfast at 10:30, having turned off my alarms and woken up naturally at 10:11. I ignored the many missed calls and texts on my homepage and reminded my body to keep my cortisol in check.
I made myself an espresso and put some seeded grapes in a bowl. I ate on the balcony. When I closed my eyes, the sound of traffic and rain seemed to soften, and at the far reaches of my hearing, I thought I might’ve detected the delightful tinkle of Euro-babble, French or Italian or one of those other inscrutable tongues.
Lunch
Lunch was a portion of real baguette and prosciutto.
As I took a bite of the open-faced sandwich, I heard the ring of my phone.
“Yes?”
It was my bank, alerting me that a trust fund had been created in my name. I asked my parents about this episode later, but they had no recollection of setting such a thing up.
“No, darling, I’m quite sure we set the fund up at birth. Now, hurry, or you’ll be late to tennis at the club.”
There was my daily movement. I had not realized we had a membership at the country club, nor had I realized how many matching-white athletic sets I owned. Nevertheless, I put one on and, upon consideration of the chilly weather, draped a Ralph Lauren sweater over my shoulders.
I was nearly late, on account of misplacing the keys to my 1987 Mercedes-Benz 560SEL, but arrived in time for doubles.
Dinner
Dinner was a sumptuous feast of parmesan and grapes.
As I ate, I considered my next philanthropic venture. A library for the deaf, mute, and limbless? Perhaps a gala to benefit a rare and dying species of bug. I would have to consult with the Gettys.
Dessert
An orange.
Not pictured in the collage, but pictured elsewhere on Jelly’s “Old Money” slideshow.
Results
Frankly, I was skeptical of the “Old Money” diet. I wondered how eating like a middle-class Italian family would initiate me into the ranks of families like the Rockefellers or Rothschilds.
But the results were inarguable. I was, however briefly, an Old Money European-American. I lost somewhere in the neighborhood of 37 pounds. I gained a trust fund.
The Old Money halo faded after three or four days for me, as did the weight loss, as did the trust fund, of which my bank could find no record. Your mileage may vary. Two dietary effects persist: an affinity for dressage and an aversion to contractions.
Admittedly, user error may have been to blame for my results. I did not drink a glass of wine, though a photo in Jelly’s slideshow notes one must drink “red whine at lunch” to properly “Euromaxx.” I did not eat every item pictured on the collage, including caviar, which seems like a serious omission on my part.
If you’re planning on trying the Old Money Diet, I urge you to proceed with caution. There are powerful forces at work.
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Natalie, you make me smile and head to the BBQ joint.