I have pretty much always lived in Essex (the original one in England, that is), and have increasingly come to feel that it is an unfairly maligned county.
Since the invention of the idea of the Essex Man and Essex Girl in the 1980s, the county has had something of an image problem. When introducing myself to new people, I sometimes find myself pausing slightly before saying where I’m from, in case I am judged as an Essex Girl – cheap, tacky, orange-fake-tanned, loud, not all that bright. Instead of saying ‘I’m from Essex’ like one might say ‘I’m from Staffordshire’, it has to be said with a flinch at the impending ‘Oh, Essex Girl are you?’ jokes, or an ironic roll of the eyes to show that I’m in on the joke too and no-I-don’t-own-a-pair-of-white-stilettos. Some of my Essex friends say they are from ‘near London’ rather than admit to the county of their birth.
Undeniably, the stereotypes do fit some of the people who live here. But then it also fits some of the people who live EVERYWHERE. To say that all Essex people are loud, orange and money-obsessed, and that all loud, orange and money-obsessed people are confined to Essex seems rather unfair when I know for a fact that they exist in other places too.
But the reputation is something of a self-fulfilling prophecy: the more it is hyped up, the less it becomes myth and the more it becomes reality, as people behave as they are expected to (egged on by ITV’s The Only Way is Essex).
All of this leads to the county as a whole being totally underrated. We are seen as being a featureless, unattractive, flat, pointless sort of place, where it’s always chucking out time on Saturday night.
A year or so ago I was driving from the south of Essex north to Cambridge, and to avoid the M11 Saturday traffic I decided to take the old way – the B184 up through the western side of the county, which winds its way through the Rodings, Great Dunmow, Great Easton, Thaxted and Saffron Walden. It was a revelation – I had no idea that all this rural beauty and these ancient, charmingly higgeldy-piggeldy buildings existed right on my doorstep.
If you don’t believe me, here are some pictures from around and about, summer and winter:
Being unfairly maligned does at least have some advantages: those of us who know can enjoy these places in relative peace, instead of being overrun by tourists all flocking to the same places. And if I put aside my personal pique and step back to see the bigger picture, I guess most counties have their reputational crosses to bear.
Essex. It’s much better than you might think. Honestly.
toomanyphotos 