Much Ado About “Nepo Babies”

Happy “nepo” week to all who celebrate. At a time when we could be knee-deep in egg nog and grinding to “Carol of the Bells,” we’re instead asking who parented our most famous folk. The walls of our assumed meritocracy are crumbling as we sniff out the conspiratorially rife nepotism in our midsts. ’Tis the season to ask if that model’s mum modeled too? If the TikTok foodie’s father was the inventor of Toaster Strudel? Wasn’t that actor’s uncle William Shakespeare? He sure kept that quiet. 

The list of “nepo babies” is extensive and surprisingly female-skewed (don’t think I haven’t noticed), including but not exclusive to Zoë Kravitz, Lourdes Leon, Maya Hawke, Kaia Gerber. Maude Apatow’s in there, as are Gwyneth Paltrow and Lily Allen. Dakota Fanning got a mention. There’s a (Witherspoon-)Phillippe, a Spielberg, a little Björk. As you trawl wearily through nepos, the list seems longer than COVID lockdown felt.

I do understand the allure. A consumer society is built on acquiring new stuff, but we’re also keen on the heritage of our purchases. We love new things and we love a backstory. Nepos offer both—a fresh face and built-in myth, albeit parental. It’s intriguing to imagine being brought up by Lenny Kravitz or Victoria Beckham or Melanie Griffith. Journalists and designers and brands love a maternal reference or a paternal allusion—it’s just a way into the story, the moment before it unfolds.

Everyone I’ve named is talented in their own right, but the main rub, according to the mild internet uproar, is how this talent got noticed. It seems unfair that these kids are all just sitting about in relative opulence as opportunity knocks. The rest of us toil, desperate for a way into our chosen industry, and these guys have ins coming out their ears, their last names opening myriad doors, their social inheritance seeing them sail (more easily) through life. I don’t get the impression that nepo babies—as they transition into young adulthood and beyond—give two fucks about their way in. They play the hand they’re dealt. Hollywood’s door is ajar; who in their right mind doesn’t walk through it?

Not to sound like an old man looking back at his life at the end of a film, but fame has really morphed in our lifetimes and known for being known is now a tangible career path. People used to have a trade—actors acted, sportsmen sported—and fame was a mere offshoot. But the internet has democratized our entertainment and metamorphosed the idea of a “superstar” or a “sensation.” Fame is available so much more broadly. We still have actors and sportspeople and musicians and models, but we also have nice-enough looking strangers completely dominating social channels with a zillion followers. Where Hollywood used to dominate with its abusive charisma, we now also have underground hyper-fame. There are new spaces for non-famous offspring to flourish.