Heir Style

Vapid, pouty-lipped, sullen-faced, blank-eyed bored heiresses and heirs, dressed not just to the nines but to the tens, elevens, and beyond, find themselves languishing atop an enormous jagged black rock just after dawn, poufy party dresses only slightly less poufed than when the festivities started seemingly yesterdays and yesterdays ago, neckties undone to an effect somewhere between rakish and debauched. Shoes in hand, anywhere but on feet. No one has anywhere to go. None of these overprivileged eternal revelers ever has anywhere to go but the parties that land them on these rocks.
Oh, how I loathe luxury lifestyle billboards.