Paris: A Memoir for Young Women in the Age of Influencers

by Paris Hilton

They raged that I was breaking their hearts, becoming a bad influence on my siblings, throwing my life away, acting like a spoiled, out-of-control brat. It was the same dialogue over and over. THEM: “What are people thinking right now—that we let our children run around town all night? What are we supposed to do? Move to the moon?” ME: “Oh my god, leave me alone! I’m so sick of this conversation.” It was brutal. Mom literally locked me in my room at night, but I was pretty savvy and managed to escape a few nights a week. Sometimes I could bribe Barron with promises that if he would sneak the key from Mom’s room, I would let him come with me. Whispering through the locked door, I primed him with stories of the wonderland that is New York at night, telling him how we would dance and eat candy and have as much McDonald’s as we wanted. With total trust in me, he’d go get that key.