During a charity board meeting last month, I watched a fascinating dynamic unfold between two major donors.
Both had contributed the same seven-figure amount. One kept mentioning “our foundation’s impact metrics” and “ROI on philanthropic investment.” The other simply said, “We’re pleased to help.”
The difference wasn’t just vocabulary. It was something deeper, almost musical, in how certain words rolled off the tongue of someone whose family had been wealthy for generations versus someone who’d earned their fortune in tech.
After decades negotiating in rooms where subtle signals mattered more than stated positions, I’ve noticed that old money uses certain words with an ease that new money can never quite replicate.
These aren’t fancy words or aristocratic affectations. They’re simple terms that, when used naturally, reveal a relationship with wealth that goes back generations.
The fascinating part? New money often knows these words. They study them. They practice them. But there’s something in the delivery, the timing, the complete absence of self-consciousness that gives the game away every time.
1) Adequate
People from old money describe things as “adequate” without any sense of settling. A $30,000 kitchen renovation might be “adequate for our needs.”
A good state university is “perfectly adequate” for their children. When they say it, they mean sufficient, appropriate, exactly right for the purpose.
New money struggles with this word because to them, adequate sounds like compromise. They’ve worked too hard to settle for adequate.
So when they try to use it, there’s a slight pause, a subtle emphasis that betrays discomfort. They’ll say “adequate” but then quickly add qualifiers, explaining why adequate is actually quite good in this case.
Old money learned from childhood that adequacy isn’t about limitation. It’s about proportion, fit, and the confidence to not need more than what serves the purpose.
2) Worn
Watch how someone describes an old possession. Old money will say their grandmother’s pearls are “beautifully worn” or their father’s watch is “worn but working perfectly.” They say it with affection, even pride.
New money hesitates before “worn.” They might say “vintage” or “has character” or “still in great shape despite its age.” But worn? That word sticks in their throat. It sounds too much like the things they left behind.
The psychology here runs deep. When your family has had money for generations, worn things are proof of continuity. When you’ve recently acquired wealth, worn things are what you escaped from.
3) Sufficient
At a dinner party recently, someone asked about a mutual acquaintance’s new beach house. The old money guest said, “Oh, it’s sufficient for their summers.” No sarcasm. No judgment. Just a statement of fact.
New money rarely uses “sufficient” without context. They’ll say “more than sufficient” or “surprisingly sufficient” or explain what makes something sufficient. The word alone feels incomplete to them, like they’re being ungrateful for abundance.
But in old money families, sufficiency is a virtue.
Having exactly what you need, no more and no less, shows judgment and restraint. They learned early that excess is vulgar, but so is false modesty about what’s sufficient for your actual needs.
4) Modest
Old money calls things modest without apology or irony. Their 15-room house is “modest compared to the original estate.” Their child’s trust fund is “modest but helpful.” They use modest as a simple descriptor, not a value judgment.
New money can’t say modest without telegraphing something. Either they’re humble-bragging (“our modest little yacht”) or they’re anxious that modest sounds poor. They’ve fought too hard against modest circumstances to use the word neutrally.
I’ve noticed this especially in business negotiations.
Old money will describe their requirements as modest and mean it. New money will use the word strategically, either to lower expectations or to seem unpretentious. But strategy is exactly what gives it away.
5) Comfortable
Ask old money about their financial situation, and they might say they’re “comfortable.” Not rich, not wealthy, not successful. Comfortable. They say it like they’re describing a good chair.
New money finds this word almost impossible to use about money without additional commentary. They’re “very comfortable” or “finally comfortable” or “comfortable but still working hard.” The word alone doesn’t feel like enough.
The difference is that old money uses comfortable to close down money conversations, not open them. It’s a word that politely says “sufficient but not worth discussing.”
New money hasn’t yet learned that the most powerful thing you can do with wealth is not talk about it.
6) Proper
Old money uses “proper” without sounding like they’re from a PBS period drama. A proper breakfast. A proper funeral. A proper thank you note.
They don’t emphasize the word or use air quotes. It’s just the right way to do something, learned so long ago they don’t remember learning it.
When new money says “proper,” you can hear the effort. They’re thinking about what proper means, whether they’re being proper, if proper sounds too pretentious.
The word becomes self-conscious, which is exactly what proper never should be.
The tell is in the casualness. Old money tosses off “proper” like they’d say “blue” or “Tuesday.” New money handles it like fine china.
7) Appropriate
In my experience, nothing separates old from new money quite like the word “appropriate.”
Old money will call something inappropriate with the same tone they’d use for “unfortunate” or “Tuesday.” No heat, no judgment that needs defending, just a calm assessment.
New money uses “appropriate” like a weapon or a shield. They’re either defending their choices as appropriate or attacking others’ as inappropriate. The word carries weight, intention, sometimes defensiveness.
Old money learned “appropriate” before they learned why it mattered. By the time they understood class differences, the word was already neutral to them.
New money learned it as adults, as a rule to follow or break, which makes it forever charged.
8) Grandfather
This one’s subtle, but pay attention to how people reference their grandfather.
Old money mentions him casually in stories about boats, houses, or traditions. “My grandfather always said…” or “At my grandfather’s place…” The grandfather is context, not credential.
New money, if their grandfather wasn’t wealthy, either never mentions him or mentions him specifically to show how far they’ve come.
If he was successful, they mention him to establish lineage. Either way, “grandfather” carries narrative weight it doesn’t have for old money.
The word becomes a tell because old money assumes continuity between generations. Their grandfather is part of an unbroken chain.
New money sees generations as either something to transcend or something to claim, but rarely something to simply continue.
Closing thoughts
These words aren’t passwords to an exclusive club. Old money itself is changing, diffusing, and plenty of people from inherited wealth are insufferable in their own unique ways.
But language patterns that develop over generations reveal something about how we relate to money, status, and security.
The practical truth? If you’ve earned your wealth, own it. The awkwardness new money feels with these words comes from trying to be something they’re not.
Your discomfort with “adequate” might be exactly what drove you to achieve more than adequate results.
The real dividing line isn’t vocabulary. It’s the bone-deep security that comes from never having worried about money, versus the vigilance of those who created their own security.
Both have their place. But only one can be faked, and that’s where the tells show up.
