Daddy must be so proud.
Rachael Sacks is now embarking on Week Two of her “I’m Famous!” tour — an obscene public display of unearned wealth, colossal entitlement and designer clothes by an egregiously spoiled, semiliterate 20-year-old Manhattan college student. One whose sole claim to fame is penning a viral online essay in which Rachael orders poor people to stop making her feel rotten about being rich and fabulous.
I wonder — have we found the urban goddess of our age?
I reached Rachael as she sat in the hair-and-makeup chair of a tabloid TV show this week, yammering about the offers she’s received from the networks, and the exhaustion of having her lawyers search for a publicist. But Rachael had to speak loudly on speaker phone because, she whined, “my right ear sticks out.” A flaw?
So I asked — does she regret it?
Has Rachael, finally, thought better of the excruciatingly vapid piece she authored on the Thought Catalog Web zine titled “I’m Not Going to Pretend That I’m Poor to be Accepted By You”?
Does she regret being featured on Page One of The Post — an example of everything smug and scary and stupid about the next generation of brats?
And was she sorry about an earlier essay in which Rachael confessed to a chronic habit of self-pleasuring?
Not a chance, peasants.
“Why would I go back on anything I said?” she told me. “I don’t believe in flip-flopping.
“Society makes people more or less equal. That’s stupid! It’s a very stupid and shallow way to be.”
Rachael’s fertility-doctor dad back home in Maryland foots her $40,000 annual tuition at the New School, where she’s studying writing. (Study harder.) He also pays expenses and the rent for her apartment in swanky Greenwich Village.
But Rachael doesn’t believe in regret. Or clothes from The Gap. (She drapes herself in Marc Jacobs and Louis Vuitton, mainly.) And, of course, she lugs around her now-infamous sample-sale Mulberry bag.
That bag, she wrote, caused a crisis in Gristedes, when the checkout girl delivered what she calls “the look,” judging Rachael harshly for the pricey accessory. (Large Mulberrys retail for upward of $2,000; Rachael insists she scored a 70 percent discount, still too rich for my blood.)
Is she so self-absorbed she imagined an envious look from a minimum-wage slave?
Whatev.
“People shouldn’t hate anyone for having money, to be honest,” she continued. “Certain things money can get you. If you have money, you can bail yourself out of jail, cover it up easier . . .”
Lordy.
She went on to blast her many online haters for misunderstanding her words. Besides, they’re old.
“I go through their profiles. I say, OK, people criticizing me are in their 40s and their 50s. They’re like 55!”
Superficial traits are not just important. They are critical to one’s social survival. Rachael described nights spent in some of New York’s high-end nightclubs, though she’s under the drinking age.
“Do people care? Justin Bieber goes, and he’s younger than me. Miley Cyrus. No one gives them crap. Basically, anyone in college can get in, if not ugly.
“You don’t pay for anything. Guys buy you drinks.”
If that doesn’t make Daddy cut her off, nothing will.
Or am I getting Rachael Sacks all wrong?
Can we be witnessing a new crop of mean girls, born without the gene for tact? It begs the question — is Rachael Sacks a shameless hussy, or a trailblazer?
For here is a young lady so freakishly pampered, she has dug down deep into her empty soul, and come up with this: She doesn’t give a rat’s rump about what anyone thinks.
Rachael was not simply born, she was created — by a culture that treasures youth and wealth, but has lost its way on the stroll to the Chanel boutique.
This gal’s raging self-regard, her continued need to spend, spend, spend, to diss the poor and merely middle class, sends a message to us all:
Quit complaining, peons. You are staring the future in the face.
Soap Oprah at the White House
The thrill is gone.
The day voters elected President Obama in ’08, I watched, amazed, as heavy Chicago traffic was parted like the Red Sea by law enforcement to let through Oprah Winfrey and her entourage of SUVs. You won’t see anything like that again.
Today, Oprah avoids Obama like leprosy. She didn’t campaign for his 2012 re-election. And when Obama aide Valerie Jarrett asked Oprah to attend an Obama fete of A-listers last summer (Amy Poehler, Jennifer Hudson, Alicia Keys) to discuss ways to generate buzz for the health-care law, she refused the invite. Oprah instead sent a low-level rep, an insult, author Edward Klein wrote in The Post.
Did the beautiful friendship end over a girl fight?
In his book “The Amateur,’’ Klein argued that Michelle Obama was jealous that her husband sought Oprah’s advice. Oprah was then frozen out of the White Ho* se. Taking her grudge to the next level, O has banned the Obamas from her “O’’ magazine.
A star is treated like regular folk. What a pity.
Twits & ass get spanked
She almost had me. As performers from Rihanna and Kim Kardashian to Nicki Minaj post raunchy, near-naked selfies on Instagram, actress Rashida Jones shamed her sisters (without naming names) in a Twitter rant that ended with the hashtag: “stop acting like whores.’’
“There is a whole generation of young women watching,’’ tweeted the “Parks and Recreation’’ actress. “Sure be SEXY but leave something to the imagination.’’
But she also wrote, “calling on all men to show me dat ass.’’ So much for self-restraint from a starlet.
The mother of all outrages
Lindsay Lohan and horror mom Dina are in good company. The latest fad for newly single, middle-age momsters is dancing in nightclubs until 4 a.m. with their daughters, effectively using 20-something-and-under girls as man bait, The Post reported. Scary.
One Long Island gal reported dancing with her 49-year-old “best friend’’ in clubs from the Meatpacking District to South Beach. And she’s just 19. What happened to boundaries?
Get a life, Mom.
The skinny on modeling
Call it the Junior Mannequin Protection Act.
Under a new law just signed by Gov. Cuomo, models under 18 are to be watched by adults, supervised by pediatric nurses, and banned from working before 5 a.m. or after 10 p.m. on school nights. Plus, some of their earnings must be put into trust funds.
But there’s nothing in the rules that specifically forces a young girl to eat. Why can’t a model wait until adulthood before subjecting herself to torture?