I read an article about the Brant Brothers on Gawker a while back and it still haunts me. Vanity Fair profiled these pretentious, spoiled little sh*ts in September of 2012, and God I wish they hadn’t. I could’ve lived my entire life never knowing these things exist.
The sons of mogul Peter Brant Sr. and supermodel Stephanie Seymour are—I’m convinced—devils. Peter is 18 and Harry is 15 and they say things like this (quoted from the New York Times interview they did earlier in the summer of 2012):
- “I might be gay,” he now tells Sales. “I’m both, kind of, a little bit….” “I do both, and, you know, I’m cool with everything. I don’t like to be defined. I personally don’t think that you can be. I’m undefinable.”
- “From now on when people ask me what I ‘do’ I’m just gonna say icon,” 15-year-old Harry wrote recently on the boys’ joint Twitter feed.
- Speaking about Suri Cruise: “And it’s all coming from her,” Harry remarks. “She’s always got some ‘do. I love her hair.” “Clearly she’s just an awesome person,” Peter agrees. “And she always has some, like, sassy frog slippers.” Harry continues, “And, like, jammies in the restaurant.” Or as Peter remembers, “Didn’t she have some ladybug boots? I was like, I need those.”
Kill me. Kill me now. This is horrible. Why? Why do I give a crap about these douchebags? I don’t, but I know about them and since I don’t like to suffer alone now you know about them. I really can’t figure out why this country is so obsessed with celebrity. They’re just people with more money and a better life than you. Are we so masochistic in this country that we have to rub our own noses in thing we don’t have? I don’t know anymore…now if you’ll excuse me I have to go prowl the Richkidsofinstagram tumblr and cry while I count 34 Dom Perignon bottles floating in an indoor pool. That’s a year’s rent.