Definitely. But availability is a function of demand, I think: if middle America was clamoring for Samuel Smith IPA or Mackeson XXX Milk Stout, I imagine every bar would stock it. Instead, when I go to a bar for the first time, I have to ask the bartender “What do you have in bottles besides Bud, Miller, Coors, Corona and Heineken?” 
I’m really starting to sound like a dork. Can we talk about something else? :smack:
I know a guy who works in a fairly snobby store’s wine department. When he started he didn’t know anything about the wines, but to deal with the condescending interrogations from the patrons, he made stuff up. He’d sample and ask the customer if they could taste the pine, or the oak, or whatever, and of course they could. He was usually dead wrong, but I guess someone who’s putting on airs would be afraid to be wrong.
He said he sold a lot of very expensive wine this way, just by asking them what they could taste and how the one wine really brought out certain flavors. And from this experience he learned a lot about wine from the real connoisseurs who’d call him on his bullshit.
Furthermore, lots of people in the rest of the world like Harp lager, but in Ireland it’s viewed with utter contempt: sometimes referred to as ‘Harpic’ (a brand of bleach).
I was walking across my college’s campus a few years back when I overheard one of the most pretentious sounding things I have ever encountered. There were two fellows talking about a movie that had come out recently (I have no idea what it might have been) and one of the two mentions something about enjoying the movie or some specific aspect of it and the second replies:
“I can see why most people would like it, but having taken a film class I know too much about what makes a good film to enjoy those kinds of things anymore.”
The sentence is pretentious enough as is, (note that he mentions a film class, not being a film major, or even something about studying film, just a single class and suddenly he is a master of the art), but what was even worse was the way he said it. He was actually treating the immense knowledge gained from this one class as a burden. He simply knew too much about the art of film and now he could not enjoy the simpler things in life.
For several years I was responsible for compiling the faculty/staff directory of a large public university. Unfortunately, many of the university employees – on both the faculty *and *staff sides of the fence – saw the directory not as a phone book, but as an opportunity for self-promotion. Year after year I strove to simplify the format, something that would have alleviated the herculean process of researching and revising the publication I came to call “The Beast.” In this effort I was repeatedly thwarted by those more interested in trying to make themselves and their departments look impressive, than in ensuring their respective phone numbers were made available.
One step I took was to set certain rules concerning the listing of academic degrees. Only one title was to be permitted per listing, and the more flowery titles were whittled down to a more accessible form. I procured a lengthy listing of academic titles and their more widely accepted abbreviations, and armed with this authoritative tome, whipped the listings into shape. The complaints were many and stentorian.
On phone call in particular stands out. A staff member refused to sign off on the draft of her listing that I had faxed over. She insisted that her degree was not a “B.A.”, but an “A.B.”. The ensuing discussion went something like this.
Me: So that’s an associates degree, ma’am?
Her: No, no. It’s a bachelor of arts degree.
Me: So it’s a B.A.
Her: NO! It’s an A.B.
Me: …Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I fail to see the difference.
Her: I attended a *very *prestigious university, and our degrees are in Latin. They are properly referred to as “A.B.s”. That probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but those who have a *proper *education will understand the significance.
Me: (after a pregnant pause) I have three points of significance, ma’am. First, I have had four years of collegiate Latin, and it is taught at the elementary level that word order in that language is largely insignificant. Secondly, I, too, attended a university whose degrees are in Latin. According to mine – which I am looking at right now – my degree is called a “Baccalaurei in Artibus”. In other words, a B.A. And finally, were I to list your degree as an “A.B.”, the vast majority of those seeing it would assume either that it was a typo, or that you had only earned an associates degree. That being said, I leave the choice to you.
Seeing the impeccable logic of my third argument, she grumpily gave in.
Good story. She’s on the staff of a university, and is getting snooty about having a Bachelor’s? In a place where PhD’s are a dime-a-dozen? Hoo boy.
That’s probably why she’s snooty about her Bachelor’s…trying to make up for her own feelings of inadequacy! 
If she had been a man, she would have compensated by getting the diploma printed on extra-large paper.
Ah, I assume she went to the same college as I did. They changed it around a couple of years ago, so I actually have a BA. My husband has an AB, though. No one I knew was likely to get pretentious about it; we generally laughed about how pretentious the school was for holding on to the Latin.
My nomination for the thread: When I was a junior in high school (a tiny, podunk high school, no less), I was talking to a really snobby senior who sat next to me in choir. “Is that a Harvard keychain?” I asked, surprised to see someone from my school with one. It was hanging prominently from her backpack.
She turned up her nose and said, with crisp enunciation, “yes, it’s from Harvard, hopefully my future alma mater,” she said.
“Good luck with that,” I said, trying not to sound like I was laughing at her inside. I mean, “future alma mater?” Who says that?
The kicker…she didn’t get in!
A few days ago at our Casino an elderly man was dressed rather dapper…Fedora on his head at a jaunty angle, sportcoat draped over his sholders; he wasn’t wearing it with his arms in the sleeves, the coat was just hanging on his sholders, like a cape. He pulls out a cigarette case from his vest and lights up the cigarette in a long, jet black holder.
I immediately thought of Addison DeWitt from the movie All About Eve, but the other guys just dubbed him The Pink Panther.
So it was fashionable to drink really shitty beer? I don’t even drink beer and I still know that Schlitz and Coors are seen more as piss water than anything else.
I think that’s one of the hallmarks of pretention: slavish devotion to something that tastes bad, or is inconvenient to do, or that you secretly don’t like (as in jjimm’s example). Like the guy at my college who declared a fondness for cognac, but you could see him wincing every time he took a sip.
What startled me was simply the idea that jjimm’s mates didn’t recognize the “trendy American” beer as piss water, but were presumably impressed by someone who carried a bottle of it. I thought Brits had more sophisticated palates. That’s certainly what I get over here from people who favor microbreweries.
If that’s the case, it makes the story even funnier. Here they were, pretending to be all with it and hip by drinking the beer we usually associate with Larry the Cable Guy types.
Huh? That’s not pretentious. That’s style baby! 
Not a nomination for a great moment in pretension-- but an anecdote inspired by another.
One of my classmates came back from a visit to the college of his choice (or at least a school he intended to apply to) with a pair of boxer shorts emblazened with the name of the school. Best as I can recall, he offered to take off his pants to prove it–I believe I averted my eyes, and thus can not even vouch for whether he took the pants off, let alone whether his shorts waid what he said they did.
Eavesdrop on conversations at an art gallery and you could fill the thread. I did this at the National Gallery in London once. My own friend said “those sunflowers… they’re so… MALEVOLENT” :rolleyes: and two women gazing reverently at the Virgin of the Rocks were murmuring “look at her face… so spiritual… you can tell she’s a gentle person…” :rolleyes: :rolleyes: .
I also know a family who not only gave their house a pretentious name, they also answer the phone by giving the name. Instead of the usual “hullo?” or “5555555”, they say “Snotface House!” in a commanding tone.
As for stuff people came out with during the student years, that’s another thread in itself, and I’m not exactly pleading innocent either.
Some brits do. Most brits will drink anything that’s cheap, cold, fizzy and alcoholic. The best selling beers in Britain are probably Stella Artois and Carling. Ick.
I don’t really see the pretense in this one. Talking about art makes you pretentious? Even when you’re in an art gallery?
No. Referring to sunflowers as malevolent probably does, though. Same as people talking about a cigar’s “oily finish and honeyed afternote.”
I was having a conversation with the manager of a wine store I go to. I was picking up drinkable weekend with the gang wine - quite a bit of it - and looking for recommendations - I know what I like, but since I was buying for a crowd…
So I asked him for drinkable wines and how hard it was to recommend wines for others and we got to talking. He said “I just had to fire a women the other day. People would ask her for recommendations and she had real wine snob taste - she’d poo-poo the $12 a bottle wines for the $60 bottles that were very dry and frankly - undrinkable for most people. I was getting so many complaints, and she wouldn’t take correction.”