September 01, 2010

They say she’s an heiress, but I say she’s more like trailer trash. She wears a lot of Pepto Bismol pink and prances around like an innocent little doll, but make no mistake about it, Paris Hilton is a naughty girl. Before the age of thirty, not only has Hilton served time in jail for a misdemeanor DUI, she has produced a pornographic video, been busted with weed at an African airport, and most recently, been charged in Vegas with felony possession of cocaine. She is claiming the handbag the drugs fell out of belongs to somebody else. I wonder who she thinks she’s fooling? The bimbo act is fine if you”€™re hanging out on the Sunset Strip with Brandon Davis, Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan, but in the real world, not everybody is as idiotic as Barbie.

The problem is Paris grew up in Beverly Hills. She grew up thinking celebrity is important, and that living that sort of life is cool. Of course it isn”€™t, as anyone who has read Less Than Zerocan attest to. Having lived in Los Angeles for the better part of a decade myself, I can assure you, the only education you get out there involves drugs, parties, marginal values, and the sort of vapid socializing Bret Easton Ellis writes about in Imperial Bedrooms, the sequel to Less Than Zero. It’s really no surprise Hilton behaves the way she does, why would she behave any other way? America idolizes Hollywood, and Hollywood sells itself brilliantly. She’s nothing more than one of many dolls on the factory’s production line.

“One evening in a Manhattan club I saw her dry hump a support column for several hours while flashing her pantyless crotch to everyone around her. Poor Paris was desperate for something.”

Paris and her less ridiculous sister, Nicky, showed up one summer in the Hamptons in the late 90s. I remember meeting them for the first time at a benefit at the Parrish Art Museum. They looked like Eastern European hookers, decked out in Versace, or some such vulgarity. They were not even twenty. Their horribly pushy mother came to me—I was then the managing editor of Hamptons magazine, and she wanted me to give Nicky a summer internship, which I did. Nicky was reserved and efficient, though I could never quite make heads or tails of her. I imagine if Nicky had been prettier, she would have ended up much like her sister. I would only see Paris out at night; she thought she was somebody, and was clearly peculiar. One evening in a Manhattan club I saw her dry hump a support column for several hours while flashing her pantyless crotch to everyone around her. Poor Paris was desperate for something.

But Hilton couldn”€™t quite crack the social scene in New York. Her low-rent star-seeking ways were too cheap for the East Coast. On the other side of the country Hilton fit right in with all the other lost peroxide blonde bimbos hungry for Hollywood. She found success with Rick Solomon, an Angeleno who made a sex tape of his then “€œgirlfriend”€ and sold it on the internet. From the looks of it, poor Paris was too innocent to know how to screw; nevertheless, she snagged a lot of very hot guys, including several Greek billionheirs. Additionally, she made silly essays at acting, singing, writing, and splashing her name on perfumes and god knows what else. But I doubt she has ever been taken seriously, except perhaps by E! Entertainment Television, the network that gave her a reality show called The Simple Life, in which she starred with her childhood friend, Nicole Richie, who has also been busted for DUI and served time in jail. The two had a lot in common, among them, their wild child ways and remarkable lapses of judgement, all courtesy of their Hollywood upbringing.

Anyone who rolls in vaguely the same circles as Hilton knows she likes the cocaine. Of course, this is all hearsay, but her other childhood friend, the late Casey Johnson, was, as far as I know, also into the stuff. It is not exactly uncommon to take drugs in Hollywood, or New York for that matter. If you”€™ve seen any TMZ videos of Hilton and the people she goes out with, well, the truth is all too apparent. Brandon “€œGreasy Bear”€ Davis, whose real name is Brandon Zarif—he took his mother’s name because, like all classy people, you go where the money is—is no stranger to narcotics. Paris often stood by his side while he went on belligerent tirades disparaging people like Lindsay “€œfirecrotch”€ Lohan. I”€™m sure scores of Hollywood paparazzo can attest to the drinking and drugging. Why else would these kids spend so much time in nightclubs and going to parties? Unless you”€™re wrecked, it’s a terrific bore.

The whole princess act isn”€™t really fooling anyone anymore, except maybe Paris herself and her ghastly mother. The drug busts and the jail time are nothing more than symptoms of a sad story we’ve all heard before. Hilton is your typical nouveau riche poor little rich girl who never got a proper upbringing and was seduced by the lure of fame and the sleaze of Hollywood. Apparently her mother’s failed aspirations to make it in the business were also at play, and pushed Hilton into the limelight early on. Paris is a pretty girl, far prettier than her mother. She came of age in the right place at the right time, or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on how you look at it. If what they say is true, and her grandfather bequeathed most of his fortune to charity, well then, like La Lohan, Hilton is her family’s meal ticket. Her father is allegedly one of the dumbest men on earth, so it’s unlikely he will ever make enough to support his dependents. Paris is only 29 now, but she looks a little used up. I don”€™t see her twenties ending on a high note. Her recent appearance on a red carpet dressed like Marilyn Monroe was more of an Anna Nicole Smith moment than a glamorous one. Paris is probably not as dumb as she acts, she’s made a lot of money. If only she would cut back on the partying and the sleazy men, she might have a shot at turning things around for herself. But then, she has only ever known a Hollywood life.

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