Perhaps it stems from time spent editing, which, in turn, requires a greater attention each word; perhaps it is a result of coming from a country where having material and societal comfort is only normal, but this obsessive emphasis on exclusivity and luxury that Bulgaria places on things is disturbing.

Take, for example, a new housing development at the base of Vitosha Mountain billed – granted, in an advertorial – as a “VIP village” complete with a “luxury hotel” and “central discreet security”, designed by “prominent young Bulgarian architects”.

Or the “reserve VIP” sections in numerous bars and clubs (because they’re just too good to hang with the rest of us). Or the “prestigious award” for whatever (or is it just that people are not aware that a Nobel prize is prestigious?), or the “world-famous consultancy firm” or the “most-luxury series” of wines.

“Prestigious,” “world-famous” “most-luxury”, “VIP”, “prominent”: what do any of these terms actually mean? If something was really so “prominent”, should we not already know that? Besides the fact that such terms have little meaning in themselves, and would seem to indicate that if something is not famous or prestigious or luxury or VIP, then it is nugatory. (Please forgive the use of the word nugatory: meaning “of no value or importance; useless, futile”, it simply the most fitting word; it is not an attempt at appearing intelligent.)

[And not to mention “young”, in a society where old is equated with démodé or worthless – both in terms of objects and of people. (Cultural history is not valued: what other society would throw 100-year-old books in the trash, or even records from the 1950s? Neither valued are people who no longer look like spring chickens: too many times have I heard the elderly talked at like three-year-old idiots.)]

A note on wines: they seem to, inherently, be associated with snobbery (though winemakers themselves are the most down-to-earth people). Too many times has the phrase “any wine under 10 leva is not considered wine” been heard coming from the mouths of otherwise reasonable wine lovers. And then there is the “if you really know and love wine, you’ll prefer reds to whites”, followed by “white wine is for sissies” and “Bulgaria makes good reds, but iffy whites”. (We’re talking here about the stuff bottled by some licensed winery, not the domashno vino sold in re-used – clean – plastic bottles by babas on the streets.)

To continue: there are some very good wines available for less than 10 leva: Logodaj’s Maglet line offers both reds and whites, and their Melnik 55 is fabulous; Katarzyna Estate has its Mezzek label (currently only reds); the rosé from Svishtov is a steal; and that is not to mention almost any traditional bottle of mavrud from Assenovgrad, particularly the КНП, which are good everyday bets.

This conviction that if something is not expensive or luxury, then it is shoddy or not worth considering, or just plain second-rate (which means that if you buy/use it, you, too, are second-rate) would seem to reflect on the whole culture. Bulgaria claims a lack of self-esteem; Bulgaria does nothing to counteract this lack of self-esteem. Foreigners (European Union or property investors, anyone?) come in and tell Bulgaria to get it together, to whip out the progress, to start taking measures against or for X, and only then will this country start to see change.

But has this push for change and modernity been evaluated, or is it only valued because it comes from the West? I’m not saying that things do not need to change, nor that all foreign influence is undesirable, but simply that words need to be analysed before being accepted.

It turns that sitting in front of a computer, editing, scrutinising each turn of phrase is not such a tedious thing, after all.