Geli Raubal hates the word ‘celebutante.’
“It’s not even a real word!” she protests.
When I point out that ‘celebutante’ is a word—a portmanteau word, in fact, Geli sticks her tongue out playfully and says what she always says when the absurdity of the word flies smack-dab into her flawless, porcelain face: “Pish-posh. What does it mean anyway? That I should get special treatment because I have a famous relative? That I should get into clubs ahead of the line or get free clothes from designers just because of the family I was born into? Pish-posh!”
But like other young ladies in her caste—Paris Hilton, Bijou Phillips, Kimberley Stewart, and the Bush twins come to mind—she does get special treatment and free clothes. She even gets into clubs ahead of the line. All because she’s the favorite niece of her famous, well-connected, powerful uncle. And who is her uncle, the man who dotes on her like she’s his own? Well, you’ve certainly heard of him, unless you’ve been living in a bunker.
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