Why you should never set out to marry rich: And I know because I live in a world full of wives who wish they hadn't!

Remember the old adage ‘money talks and wealth whispers’? Not many do. Or so I think after a cursory scroll through TikTok.

The social media platform is rife with get-rich gurus boasting about their bank balances, but an insidious subset of these are often the most popular. Their top tip to a luxe life? Get rich not by earning it but by marrying it.

One, Dixie D’Amelio, a 22-year-old influencer with a 57 million strong fanbase, went viral for a video in which she complains about having to work and decides she is going to ‘marry rich’ instead. She is not the only one. The hashtag How To Marry Rich has 3.9 million views on the platform and an entire online industry loudly promising to help aspirants do exactly that.

I am not naive. Dixie and her ilk are not the first with plans to marry for money. But the advice was once whispered about discreetly. That civility is lost in today’s subtitled TikTok videos.

But it’s not just that they’re indiscreet. They are also plain wrong. Marrying for money alone simply doesn’t guarantee happiness, and I should know because I live my life among women who have done it.

One might imagine being described as a ‘trophy wife’ would be flattering, with all its connotations of decadent glamour, writes Shruti Advani (pictured). Instead, the first time I was assumed to be one, I was stung by how vacuous people assumed me to be until they asked me what I did.

I grew up with what is now fashionably referred to as ‘privilege’. And yes, notwithstanding the occasional rough patch, the years have been kind.

My husband knows I have always valued financial independence, and sacrificing it for a life of leisure never tempted me. Of course, I’ve enjoyed the holidays to the Maldives via the first-class lounge, the Knightsbridge boutiques and the Michelin-starred lunches, but I have never pursued that lifestyle for its own sake. And I have never relied upon a man for it.

Had I ever been tempted to give up my own earning power, the prejudice and derision levelled at the women in that situation would have angered me too much for me to truly enjoy it.

One might imagine being described as a ‘trophy wife’ would be flattering, with all its connotations of decadent glamour. Instead, the first time I was assumed to be one, I was stung by how vacuous people assumed me to be until they asked me what I did.

I’m a writer, specialising in financial journalism, but all too often people won’t bother to ask. A woman who ‘marries rich’ as the TikTokkers so ruthlessly advocate, loses her own identity and becomes just another part of her husband’s entourage instead.

I remember a man who parked in a resident’s bay outside my house in Kensington, telling me as I asked him to move on: ‘Don’t borrow the husband’s car unless he shows you how to park it, love.’ At an art gallery in St James’s, I was told it was fine if I wanted to reserve a piece until my husband had okayed it.

A salesperson at a furniture store on the King’s Road helpfully pointed out they were open on the weekend when my husband might be free to pop in and approve my picks. The list of minor humiliations is long.

Of course, this may sound irrelevant for thrill-seeking young girls seduced by the glamour of a wealthy man. Why do they care what others think as they flash their husband’s cash and never have to put in a day’s work? But let me add a word of caution.

I have known many Cinderellas in my lifetime and few, if any of them, get their happy ending. Yes, it might seem to start well. The summer wedding at a Tuscan castle is, indeed, straight out of a fairy tale, as is the couture dress and a ten-carat diamond ring.

I’ve known women whose husbands have given them £10,000-a-week spending money over the lifetime of the marriage.

What riches won’t buy, of course, is emotional stability or peace of mind. Neither for them nor their husbands. The near-constant dread of not being good enough or being replaced by someone who is better ensures neither party is happy.

It is often only a matter of time before private detectives are hauled in to follow spouses, or lawyers brought in to follow the money. When you take a transactional approach to relationships, you are asking to be treated like a commodity.

Inevitably, it starts to go wrong. And when the money tap is turned off, more desperate or inventive measures are sometimes required by women who marry for money and do not earn their own.

I recently learned of a shop on the Brompton Road that offers cash for designer handbags, bought at one of the many luxury boutiques in the vicinity. Wary of leaving a digital trail for their husbands to follow, women can walk in with a Hermes or Chanel handbag worth thousands of pounds, paid for with his credit card, and leave with cash.

Those who need to can build up quite a nest egg in this way, without a husband (or more likely, his accountant) becoming suspicious. It is a chilling reminder of the indignity of financial dependence and an iron-clad prenuptial agreement.

Because what Dixie and her fans must also recognise is that it is one thing to marry for money, and quite another to hang on to it should you get divorced.

Worrying as this is for the women in question, I am also concerned for the men who are knowing or unknowing participants in this tawdry trade.

As a mother of two boys, I baulk at the idea of a prospective partner who sees them as little more than a lifestyle upgrade, even though neither is old enough to date yet.

If I suspected someone was after my boys for their money, I would rather write a cheque and send the young woman packing.

That may sound harsh (and just a little neurotic) but in the long run it will save both parties from the hassle and the heartbreak. My advice to young men is the same as it is for young women. Marry because you want to, not because you want to impress people.

If none of this persuades the young women of TikTok not to follow through on their ‘marry rich’ plans, I suggest they work on developing Kardashian-levels of self-confidence.

Without it, they may find themselves losing their grip on reality as well as their prize catch. Imposter syndrome is as crippling for the woman in the bedroom as it is for the one in the boardroom.

Every look and every word said to them will trigger insecurities fed by the fear — nay, belief — that they do not belong. That they are not living up to the standards they imagine they are being held to. There is an accompanying frenzy to be thinner, prettier, politer, funnier — whatever it is that you think will help you finally fit in.

Dixie D’Amelio, a 22-year-old influencer with a 57 million strong fanbase, went viral for a video in which she complains about having to work and decides she is going to ‘marry rich’ instead 

To feel like you deserve your newfound status and therefore are more likely to keep it. It’s a cruel game and ultimately an unsuccessful one. The women caught in it put themselves through an unrelenting regimen of grooming and self-improvement, and are always running faster to stay in their place.

Some pay to foster this self-confidence. In London, as in New York or Beijing or Dubai, there are enough psychics, personal trainers, aestheticians or etiquette coaches to help vulnerable young women become the version of themselves they think they need to be, while relieving them of thousands of pounds in fees.

It’s all a sham. These women are told that confusing a pastry fork for a dessert spoon or asking for the toilet instead of the loo are the kiss of death for any status seeker. But the truth is much less complicated. Be who you are, and the world will accept you for what you are.

In fact, a lack of pretence will often get you a place at the table — quite literally in the case of one friend.

She is one of the most charming women I know, one who had a short-lived career in entertainment before she married a very successful and wealthy producer.

I was completely disarmed when — on a night out together — she congratulated the manager at a smart restaurant in Piccadilly for its success, saying: ‘The past five years have been good. I have gone from waiting at these tables to eating at them and you have added another [Michelin] star.’

No one present thought anything less of the woman. Indeed, we laughed along with her, happy for her good fortune. Her lack of pretence showed she had the one thing money cannot buy: authenticity. It was clear to everyone at the table that night that she married for love, not cash.

When you do get something wrong, which all of us do regardless of whether we went to finishing school or failed to finish A-levels, how you handle the situation is most telling.

It’s often thought that posh people are obsessed with status and who they let in or keep out of their tribe. But this isn’t true either. They do not lay tripwires across their estates, lying in wait for the next person to pronounce the ‘g’ in Magdalene.

Kindness or good manners prevent most people from making a point of another’s real or imagined shortcomings. And good manners, like almost everything else in life, come easily to those with healthy self-esteem. A chip on the shoulder, rather than an improper accent, is the undoing of so many in this world.

So, my advice for those TikTokkers who cannot be put off the pursuit of a rich man is to focus on bolstering their self-esteem. Without it, young women can feel threatened or exposed and turn defensive.

I’ve heard them lash out with passive-aggressive comments of the ‘I could never wear that, but it is lovely on you’ variety. Others go all-out nuclear. They put down a person or a place because they fear their lack of knowledge will expose their humble beginnings.

‘I cannot believe you are going to the Maldives for Christmas again,’ is one I heard most recently. Perhaps they feel being condescending goes with the territory of being wealthy. It doesn’t. It’s a hackneyed and inaccurate prejudice about how wealthy people behave. This approach is tiresome and also guaranteed to alienate the very people whose approval an aspirant craves.

Ultra-high net-worth individuals do not cultivate friends — or romantic partners — because of their perceived usefulness to them either.

They’re not looking for a prospective wife who speaks Mandarin or plays professional tennis. When they want to make a connection for work, they have business networks on hand to help. When they want an invitation, whether it is to a private island or on a trip to space, they reach out to their concierge.

For all the messy things in between, they want a partner in the truest sense of the word. But then so do we all.

It’s a point aspiring billionaire wives would do well to remember as they follow the latest step-by-step guide to bagging a billionaire. My top tip? Opt for the man who makes you happy, not the one you think will make you rich.