The destination is never the point. Anyone can go somewhere beautiful; the trick is to go somewhere beautiful that almost no one has heard of, stay in the one place that doesn't advertise, and return refusing to say exactly where it was. Vagueness, at this altitude, is a luxury good.

The posh traveller packs lightly and complains never. They know the concierge by first name and the housekeeper by kindness. They understand that the grandest hotels are graded not by their marble but by their memory — whether, a year later, the doorman still recalls how you take your coffee. That, and not the thread count, is the true five stars.

As for tipping: quietly, generously, and always to the people the other guests forget. The posh are unfailingly charming to anyone who cannot possibly benefit them, because they were raised to believe that manners cost nothing and buy everything. Which, in the end, is the whole philosophy — of travel, and of being posh at all.