There is a certain kind of person who does not attend an exhibition so much as arrive at one. You know the type. They have opinions about lighting. They pronounce the sculptor's name with a confidence that dares you to correct them. And they have, somewhere about their person, a small card that got them past the rope an hour before everyone else.

This season the private view is back in earnest, and with it the delicate art of the society opening: the glass of something cold, the slow orbit of the room, the studied refusal to look impressed. Our advice, should you wish to pass, is simple. Admire the frame before the painting. Ask who did the hang. And never, under any circumstances, ask the price out loud.

The truly posh, of course, own nothing on the walls and everything in the conversation. They collect introductions, not canvases. If you can leave an opening having said almost nothing and been remembered by everyone, you have understood the assignment — and quite possibly the century.