A preppy guide for hard times

When asked what book changed your life, you’re supposed to answer with something serious and respectable: “The Catcher in the Rye,” “Invisible Man” or, if you’re being clever, “Goodnight Moon.” I’ve offered up such titles plenty of times, but they’ve always been a lie. The book that really changed my life was “The Official Preppy Handbook.”

That dapper little paperback, which sold 1.3 million copies, was published 30 years ago this fall. If you’re of a certain age (i.e. if you’re wearing reading glasses right now), surely you remember the plaid cover and its promise to enlighten readers about “the Legacy of Good Taste, Proper Breeding and the Right Nickname.” I was 10 back then, not quite old enough to get all the jokes but impressionable enough to take very seriously the idea that lacrosse was more respectable than soccer and that nothing went better with a pink (ideally Lacoste) shirt than a green (definitely L.L. Bean) sweater. As I got older, everything from my college choices to my taste in cars (rusty Saabs) was influenced by the tongue-in-cheek yet strangely practical advice doled out by coauthor and editor Lisa Birnbach and her able collaborators.

Now there’s a sequel, written by Birnbach and the writer and book jacket designer Chip Kidd (who reveals in his bio that “The Official Preppy Handbook” changed his life). “True Prep” hit the shelves Tuesday. Packed with everything from a ham-and-cheese recipe to tips on to how to distinguish a Brooks Brothers tassel loafer from a Ralph Lauren belted loafer, “True Prep” stays loyal to the WASP-worshipping, summer-house-owning, seersucker-loving milieu so deliciously deconstructed in the first book.

In other words, it has nothing to do with the way we live now.

At least that’s what I suspected when I heard about “True Prep.” I mean, come on — is a nation coping with a nearly 10% unemployment rate going to get excited about dog portraiture? Given the state of the housing market, what are we to make of lines like “just because you inherited that old Stanford White house doesn’t make you house proud”? And what about all those kids who wear their pants below their knees? Could they possibly be receptive to tutorials on hand-stitched belts with needlepoint whale designs?

Whales may be asking too much. But there’s something very interesting going on in “True Prep.” It’s not just that it suggests how to act dignified in the face of certain contemporary indignities (Daddy’s new girlfriend, Mommy’s new face.) It’s that it has taken the conceit of the first book — the idea that preppies are gatekeepers one must charm and emulate if one wants to get ahead in life — and turned it on its ear. Instead of telling the reader how to spot a preppy, it’s showing him how to be one.

Over the course of 30 years, it seems this has become more of an equal-opportunity venture. One need no longer be white, Protestant, heterosexual — or even accomplished at tennis — to be a preppy. According to the authors, President Obama and his wife are both preppies, as are Stephen Sondheim, writer Paul Rudnick and fashion designer Vera Wang. Granted, all these folks attended prep schools or Ivy League universities, but there’s a sense in the book that the contemporary iteration of preppiness has far more to do with savoir faire than pedigree. Cellist Yo-Yo Ma, for example, is cited as a preppy not because he went to Harvard or, as a second-grader, performed for President Kennedy, but because he once left his $2.5-million cello in the back of a taxicab.

Granted, at first glance this kind of blunder suggests a carelessness born of entitlement. And preppy as that may be, it’s also glaringly out of step with the times.

But to dig beneath the surface of this thing that’s been labeled “prep” is to arrive at a surprising and perhaps even counterintuitive theory about the whole gestalt. Perhaps preppiness is less about demographics and style than it is about living decently in an often indecent world. As stuffy and elitist as its preoccupations can be, preppiness at its core is ultimately about self-respect. It’s about pulling your pants up. It’s about being able to come up with an acceptable answer when asked what book changed your life. It’s about knowing that you don’t necessarily need to have money to have class.

And what better time to be reminded of all this than now?

mdaum@latimescolumnists.com