Roasted Jun 2, 202690 views90 pts
We're sorry. Actually, no we're not.
Imagine being so eager to lick the boots of British royalty that you name your town after Charles Lennox, 3rd Duke of Richmond - then drop a letter from his name and call it a day. That's peak Lenox energy: desperately aspiring to grandeur while tripping over your own spelling.
Nothing screams 'working class insecurity' quite like naming your sports teams after the rich tourists who built summer homes here 150 years ago. The kids wear the name like a costume, a bunch of locals cosplaying as the Gilded Age cottagers who used their grandparents as the help for Boston Symphony patrons.
Lenox transforms from a sleepy town of 5,000 into a cultural Disneyland every summer when wealthy Bostonians and New Yorkers descend to eat overpriced cheese on manicured lawns while pretending to appreciate classical music. The locals spend the rest of the year serving lattes and bragging about that one time James Taylor waved at them.
The Mount exists as a monument to when Lenox attracted actual literary talent instead of yoga retreats and spa weekends. Now it's just another stop on the 'culture vulture' tour for people who think owning a vacation home in the Berkshires makes them intellectually superior to their suburban neighbors.
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