Welcome to our new world of po-mo-po-mo ouroboros, in which 2015 has warped into some kind of psychedelic sick joke: Donald Trump is dominating the headlines, Chipotle gives you e.coli, The Walking Dead still hasn’t killed off Carl (or, in Rick parlance, COORAL). Thankfully, there has been at least one constant in American popular culture since the turn of the century, and that constant is Paris Whitney Hilton.
Ms. Hilton is on the latest cover of Paper magazine, a publication acutely aware of this perpetual importance (even though some had written her off despite her gig making literal millions through her Ibiza DJ residency). Unlike the tack less visionary magazines might take—covering her because it’s 2015 and we’re just about due for 2002 to slide back into style—Paper recognizes Paris for her pop cultural importance and cast her in the pomo-pomo-pomo light under which she deserves to glow: in next-level garments she would never choose by herself, recasting her as a trust fund goth who’s really deep in her feelings by tossing off her Miami-floral frocks in favor of more severe designers like Rick Owens and Mugler.
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