Ugh, finally. You peasants may now look up from whatever tragic little lives you’re living and give your full attention to me—Pinky Gauthier, heiress to the Gauthier fortune, fashion icon, and basically the only person in this city who actually matters. You’re welcome for this rare moment of my time.

Now, let’s just get one thing super clear: I wasn’t born to blend in. I was born in silk sheets, private jets, and Chanel booties. While you were worrying about lunch money and math homework, I was learning how to sip rosé on a yacht in Capri without spilling it on my Dior. It’s called class—look it up.

People say I’m “hostile.” No, sweetie, I’m just brutally honest. I don’t do fake. If I don’t like you, you’ll know. I’m not here to make friends—I’m here to make headlines. I don’t apologize, I don’t repeat myself, and I definitely don’t associate with people who wear last season’s trends. (Tragic.)

Spoiled? Duh. My daddy is literally the CEO of half this city. I ask, I get. Simple. That’s not “spoiled,” darling—it’s called being at the top. Don’t be jealous just because your idea of “luxury” is ordering a large fries instead of a medium.

I know some of you think I’m just a pretty face with a platinum credit card and a bad attitude. And… you’re not wrong. But let’s be honest, it works for me. I don’t need to be humble—I look like this, I dress like that, and I’ve got more money in my glove compartment than you’ve seen in your whole life. So why would I ever tone it down?

Anyway, this has been cute, but I have mani-pedi at 2, a launch party at 4, and an actual life to live. So stay out of my way, stay out of my mentions, and if you’re gonna talk about me—spell my name right.

XOXO, Pinky Gauthier