“Sorry, I’m so used to,
like, playing a character that it’s like hard for me
to, like, be normal.” If you want to understand modern
celebrity and influencer culture, you have to look back to Paris Hilton —
the original “famous for being famous” icon of our era. “Paris Hilton is a new breed of
celebrity: famous for being famous.” She became the human symbol of 2000s
trends like the embrace of consumerism and materialism leading up to the
2008 financial recession; the dominant rail-thin female body
ideal; and the growing, reality-TV-inspired hunger
for content about celebrities offscreen. Paris was widely hated
as a scapegoat for these larger shifts
which she reflected. “She’s been branded the world’s
most overrated celebrity by the Guinness
World of Records.” Meanwhile, as a kind of
performance artist in a field that didn’t yet exist,
Paris crafted a self-mocking, ironic persona that was a cross
between a “dumb blonde” or a vapid rich girl. “Is it true that when you’re
not on camera that your voice drops and
you’re much more serious?” “Definitely, it’s a character
I developed for The Simple Life.” But many people took
Paris’ brand act at face value. “I just created this brand
and this persona and this character, and I’ve been stuck
with her ever since.” She was also subject to a shocking
level of misogynistic bullying by the 2000s media,
making her an important entry on the list of famous women
who deserve a big apology. In hindsight, Paris was a weird mix of
puppet master, opportunist and victim. “I've felt just so much pain
for a long time just feeling like a punchline
to so many jokes for people.” Here’s our take on why
the world blamed Paris, and how she helped usher in
the surreal world of famesque, pseudo-event driven
omni-celebrity we’re living in today. “You’re like the patron saint
of the selfie culture. Do you feel pride
or guilt about that?” “A little bit of both” While Paris is often credited with
inventing “famous for being famous,” the concept actually has
a longer history in America. “Long before the Kardashians,
she and her sisters, Magda and Eva, who starred in Green Acres,
were famous for being famous.” In the roaring twenties
F. Scott Fitzgerald novel The Great Gatsby,
Gatsby throws lavish parties and creates a cult celebrity status
around his fortune, even though no one
actually knows the real Gatsby. “Gatsby’s real name was James Gatz.
His parents were dirt-poor farmers.” He cultivates this persona
to woo his lost love, Daisy, symbolizing the American expectation
that you need to be rich and famous for anybody to care about you. In America’s booming post-WWII economy,
celebutante Zsa Zsa Gabor demonstrated what scholar
Neal Gabler calls the “Zsa Zsa Factor,” or “people who have gained
recognition for having done virtually nothing of significance.” “Our first guest tonight is
one of the great talk show guests.” “Please welcome Zsa Zsa Gabor.” Gabor leveraged the attention she gained
from her marriage to George Saunders to obtain movie roles,
but it was her fame itself and her glamour —
not her films — that defined her. “One of the world’s most
glamorous ladies — Miss Zsa Zsa Gabor,
here she is.” Neal Gabler writes that what turns
a famous person into a celebrity is “narrative” — He defines a celebrity
as “human entertainment,” or “a person who,
by the very process of living, provided entertainment for us.” Gabor (who would have nine husbands)
embodies this to a T, also demonstrating how
a key tool in increasing your fame is to date an
established star. Being the sibling or child of a famous
person works the same way, as we saw in Paris and
her other “celebutante” sidekicks who descend from
the rich and famous. “You’re famous because your dad
was famous and you have, now, a friend
who’s rich and she’s famous.” It’s natural that Paris would
follow in the footsteps of Zsa Zsa, who was the second wife
of Conrad Hilton — AKA, Paris Hilton’s
great-grandfather. Both women flaunted their
wealth and status, occasionally played into
a vapid persona for entertainment value, “You’re now, is this true,
you’re actually a princess?” “And a duchess.” and epitomized the key element
of “famous for being famous,” which author Daniel Boorstin defined
as “Well-knownness.” “She’s known really for nothing,
but she has everything.” Writing in the 60s, Boorstin critiqued
all celebrity as hollow in this sense; quote: “The celebrity is a person
who is known for his well-knownness.” In 2009, The Washington Post’s
Amy Argetsinger coined the term “famesque” to describe
the characteristic of being more famous than one seemingly should be
based on acting or music output alone. She wrote, “Sienna Miller is not famous.
She is famesque.” While Miller is an actress,
Argetsinger argues that most will know her due to
her romance with Jude Law rather than her movie roles —
one of which happens to be in Factory Girl
playing Edie Sedgwick,
another iconic “famesque”
celebutante from the 60s. “You play Edie Sedgwick
who was dubbed the it girl.” “There’s something intangible
and amazing about her.” In the 2000s, the anxiety and backlash
around Paris in part came from growing awareness that fame
and obvious accomplishments were more divorced than ever, “I don’t know what your
underlying talents are and we haven’t seen any
great display of your musical abilities.” something many fiercely protested. Perhaps the deeper reason
Paris’ fame made people uncomfortable was that it exposed the extent to which
celebrity was a manufactured, at times absurd-feeling commodity. “I don’t get it, what does she do?” “She's super rich.” “But what does she do?” “She's totally spoiled and snobby.” “What does she do??” And while Paris may not have been the
first example of famous for being famous she was by far the biggest example of
the phenomenon the world had ever seen. “It was a f****** circus, for lack of a
better term, anytime you went anywhere.” This was due to cultural factors
that converged around her: the peak power of the paparazzi
and tabloid machine met the dawn of reality TV,
which maximized interest in the celebrity’s
behind-the-scenes life. Another key feature of the
“famesque” celebrity, which Boorsin highlighted,
is “pseudo events” — which he describes
as planned occurrences, usually for the purpose of being
reported on or viewed, with an ambiguous
relationship to “reality.” Paris was a master of
creating “pseudo events” in tabloid and pop culture,
playing pranks and doing vapid stunts like faking a plane crash
to manufacture hollow entertainment. “Was she in on it?” “Yes she was, I told you so. Paris Hilton
is the biggest faker out there.” Since then, the Kardashians
and countless Youtubers and social media stars
have run with pseudo-events to create a steady
stream of content. According to Boorstin, the celebrity
is ‘“the human pseudo-event.” “Can you put this more
like shinier and cuter?” “We have a request to make
this shinier and cuter.” In many people’s minds,
Paris came to define this figure of the celebrity devoid of substance —
and this was in part because of the specific persona she cultivated:
the rich bitch. “Paris Hilton’s brand is
luxurious and rich and wealthy.” “Paris designed the doggy mansion
as a copy of her own home.”
In Paris’ reality TV show,
The Simple Life, she put on an
over-the-top ditzy schtick. “What is Walmart?
It’s like they sell wall stuff?” But the dumb blonde
or “rich bitch” were calculated, artificial personas she actively
cultivated to create a brand identity, “I’m not a dumb blonde I’m just
very good at pretending to be one.” thereby enhancing her fame
and earning potential. “First time I was really introduced to her
I saw a real life barbie, and that’s what intrigued me.
If Barbie breathed air what would this brand actually be?” Paris astutely applied her brand
to all aspects of her public life, from her trademarked catchphrase — “That’s hot.” to her wardrobe, which frequently
featured her wearing Juicy couture and carrying a designer bag
with her chihuahua. The Sofia Coppola movie, The Bling Ring
(which Paris blessed with a cameo) humorously pointed out she was so rich
she was robbed multiple times without even noticing. “How many times have
you guys been up here?” “This is, like, our fifth time.” “And she never noticed?” “I mean, come on. It's Paris Hilton.”
Moreover, the frequent accusation
that she was famous for being rich “You have now a friend who's rich
and she's famous and so you all are
famous for being rich.” also wasn't really true. Paris was famous for making a career
out of partying; for performing her wealth
a certain way; for taking an older idea
of the "socialite" and making it something modern;
and for picking up on a deeper sea change in the climate of fame
and the media. “The great-granddaughter of Hilton
empire founder Conrad Hilton could simply have sat back
instead of devoting herself religiously to the cause of becoming
the world’s most celebrated socialite.” She created a famous
for being famous formula - which included, for example,
having the sidekick - someone who’s playing the same type,
but a slightly lesser star who won’t outshine you. “Could jetsetter Paris Hilton
and her best friend, Lionel Richie's daughter Nicole,
last 30 days with no money?”
The harsh misogyny of 2000s tabloid,
media and comedy culture spared no famous woman, but it had a special
target on Paris Hilton’s back. “I love you Paris!” “Love you too.” “Alright, somebody you met in prison?”
Paris was a "sex symbol"
who established a style of behavior in her speech, wardrobe,
and appearance that many young women
emulated in her time. “Many people thank you for helping to
start this trend of showing the midriff” Her much-parodied 2005
Carl’s Jr commercial incorporated her mix of playful irony
and overt sexuality (and her “that’s hot” catchphrase),
but perhaps most saliently it captured the impossible
2000s beauty standards. Women were expected to be a size zero,
while being able to chow down like
one of ‘the guys.’ Still, even the women who managed
to attain that ideal were treated like pieces of meat
and — because they performed the uninhibited sexuality
that was expected of them — were assumed to have
no inner value or brains. “Sorry if I’m a little spent,
I did a lot of partying last night with a lot of different guys.”
Paris gained attention for her sex appeal
and her infamous sex tape, and she used her time’s beauty standards
and tabloid culture to mold her brand in a sort of
under-the-radar Girl-Boss enterprise — but she was ultimately hurt
by those same forces. “This company wanted to make
Paris Hilton sex dolls.” “Woah.” Paris’ tense relationship
with the media reflected a deeply misogynistic time
where powerful men (and women) felt completely comfortable
roasting Paris to her face “How’d you like being in jail?” pushing her to the point of tears,
talking down to her and treating her
basically like an idiot. “I heard when the cops gave Paris
the breathalyzer test they told her to blow
and she started sucking.” The total lack of sympathy
and explicit ridicule directed at Paris seemed to assume
that she deserved this backlash because she’d shamelessly
chased celebrity by being ‘famous for being famous.’ And they were condemning
her in order to condemn the cultural trends she represented. “Did you ever hear from
any of the girls you parodied in the music video
for Stupid Girls?” “Paris was upset with me.” “She said, ‘I just want you to know
that I get it, like I’m not dumb I just play like I’m dumb.’
And I was like, ‘that’s kind of my point.’” There are good reasons to dislike
some aspects of what Paris’s persona seemingly embodied, like being famous
for being rich; playing dumb to seem sexy; “(mispronounced) river is 49 degrees,
and salsbury is 47. This is boring” and presenting a
transactional view of the world. But it was as if people thought
that by disparaging her, they demonstrated their own integrity
and refusal to worship at the altar of empty materialism,
or as if their insults could restore an older "moral" hierarchy
of who "deserved" to be famous. In reality, she made people
uncomfortable because she exposed what the public wanted
from the rich and famous. “America has embraced Paris’ brand.” “What is it you do again?” “I’m sort of famous
for being almost famous…” Paris’ greatest flaw as puppet master
of her own story was actually not thinking big
or radically enough. She created the template for a new type
of celebrity and originated what would become today’s highly lucrative
and ubiquitous influencer culture — yet in her early years,
she still showed a lot of deference to the old Hollywood rules
that a famous person had to be in at least some
movies or music. “It’s really interesting to be able to do
acting and singing at the same time.” Meanwhile, the Kardashians —
who famously got their start due to Kim being Paris’ sidekick — “She literally gave me a career.”
never tried at all to be actors, or singers. Instead, they were forward-thinking
entrepreneurs who saw opportunities that didn't yet exist. “At 19 like you took something
and turned it into this empire.” Paris failed to evolve to maintain
the same relevance that the Kardashians did. Still, even if she’s not quite
Kim Kardashian, Paris has said her businesses have brought in
billions of revenue and she’s been reported to have
a net worth of up to 300 million. “Not only am I involved in
making my own products, I'm also involved in
some major tech deals.” Meanwhile, beneath Paris,
Kim and Kylie, there’s an entire ecosystem
of “created celebrities” on YouTube, Instagram
and TikTok. “Pewdiepie, congratulations
on passing 100 million subscribers.” Behaviors that Paris was criticized for,
such as performing a semi-outrageous persona to court attention
or flaunting wealth, are now the norm. “Today, we are doing the
ultimate dream house tour.” So what can we make of
Paris Hilton’s legacy, and her impact on celebrity today? Let’s start with some notable downsides
to today’s influencer industry that grew out of Paris’ fame: One - chasing clicks:
in today’s culture, influencers become ever more outlandish
to keep getting views to build their brand
and earn money. Paris understood this need
to be a little performatively ridiculous, “Thanks b**** have a great day.
This is fun.” and that’s only escalated
in the years since, as influencers like Logan Paul
pull off increasingly shallow, ridiculous, and sometimes
highly offensive stunts. “Logan Paul is facing a fallout
after posting a video That showed the body
of an apparent suicice victim.” Two- emphasizing material wealth:
There’s also the critique that Paris capitalized on her wealth
to signify her importance to society. She helped establish an
American fame culture that prioritizes attaining wealth
as the ultimate goal — when it’s neither an
attainable goal for most people, nor a great value system
on which to base a culture. Three - lack of substance:
Influencers seeking attention through viral videos eventually
took away eyeballs from others, including those thoughtful movies
and cultural touchstones that used to give
American culture meaning. Obviously you can’t blame youtube
for the death of medium-budget high-quality hit films,
but it’s also striking that the 2021 Oscars ratings
recorded fewer than a quarter of the viewers as watched
this Mr Beast video about selling houses for one dollar. “This house right here
is for sale for just one dollar.” Four - blurring the lines
between public and private life: By making her every move
a “pseudo event,” Paris set up the expectation
that celebrities should live in a fishbowl, their whole lives on display
and open to judgment from the public. “Did you lose a lot of weight
while you were in prison?” It also trickled down to regular people
sharing everything about themselves — an erosion of the value
of privacy for us all. On the positive side, though,
we’ve evolved from an old-school model of celebrity controlled by gatekeepers
to a more open world where nobody has to give you
permission to be famous. Influencers nowadays can push the
envelope for good and challenge restrictive beauty
standards in a way Paris could not. “If someone says you're not beautiful in
your own skin I'm here to tell you that you are.” Yes, she was ultimately a rich heiress
who got richer, but Paris Hilton blew the fame game open
and exposed its inner workings, making new kinds of
direct-to-fan paths possible.
Most fundamentally, she exposed
just how silly and fake celebrity is — she cheapened the value of fame
in our eyes — and that’s good. Ironically, while the perception of
“Famous for being famous” was always that these people
were lazy and lucky to get paid for doing nothing,
being a modern influencer can be quite a lot of repetitive,
unglamorous work. In recent years, Paris has carved out
a career for herself as a top DJ — or as she’s framed it,
what she’s always been: a professional partier. “We’re live, what’s up?
I’m Paris here at Slivington Manor. Excited to be playing for
Boohoo’s party tonight.” But while she clearly doesn't need to
work another day in her life, stories about her also emphasize
her long hours and her identity as
something of a workhorse. "You are a workaholic,
which we learn in the documentary.” And even if most in her field
are a lot less wealthy, this offers a suggestive window
into how being an influencer who wants to stay relevant
can be a pretty constant grind; “If you want to get in on this game
of celebrity you need to be seen everywhere.
Out of sight out of mind.” it’s yet another iteration of hustle culture. So the true legacy of Paris Hilton
was turning fame itself into a business like any other —
success for modern influencers comes from putting in the time,
turning out steady, consistent work,
and continuing to show up to the job. “One two three — that’s hot. This is Paris.”
