She got the nick-name yonks ago - though why, I will never know.
The only things that were remotely posh about her was her bobbed hair and her po face.
And it has taken Victoria Beckham a long, long time to prove that her monicker’s no longer ironic.
Finally, at the age of 37, Beckingham Palace and those wedding day thrones notwithstanding, she’s officially clarsy.
Vics is victorious; she has been accepted by the snootiest closed-rank institution in the world... the fashion industry.
At long last, the former Spice Girl can put a whole welter of hideous style faux pas behind her.
The lollipop head look, all those silicon-spilling corset tops, the Lurch boots and the orang-a-tan... all have been forgiven.
Even the fact that she had the audacity to launch her own couture label without a single fashion qualification to her name has been deemed unimportant.
This week, the ex pop star was presented with the award for Designer Brand of the Year at the ultra-prestigious British Fashion Awards.
Small wonder she burst into tears as she accepted the trophy from her friend, feted designer Marc Jacobs.
This is, like, Major (to quote a Posh-ism). The ‘creative souls’ at the big, Trad Brit labels who once fought to dress the Beckham brood cast disdainful looks at her attempts to become one of them.
I think it’s great news, this; Vics may not have so much as an O level in sewing under her teeny little belt (about the only accessory she ever does small), but she does know what ordinary women want.
Because she was ordinary once.
She has long had a knack of dressing the way un-posh young women would like to look, if only they could - glam, sexy and a little bit edgy.
The micro minis and the hotpants; we scoffed, but any girl with a decent pair of pins copied the look.
Her fashion sense has grown up dramatically of late. The simple, sleek, on-the-knee frocks, the slender evening columns: the Spice is definitely getting it right and it’s not just a bid to be taken more seriously by the rag hags; it’s about being older and wiser and understanding the true meaning of less being more.
She’s taken that onto her catwalk.
And while the likes of Gaultier, Westwood and Versace strive for art and clad stringbeans in costumes that range from pure theatre to sheer madness, her womanly clothes, designed to flatter the female form not ridicule it, are selling in their droves.