All's fair in love, war, and the love-strewn war of getting your kid into private school around here. Interview's playboy publisher Peter Brandt knows this, and via an awesome Stalker Spy, went to new extremes in order to do so.
The wars to get rich rugrats admitted into one of the Tri-State Area's legion chichi private schools are themselves so legendary—and such a wellspring of great material—that the New York Times found them one of many reasons to seek out their own reporter on the private school beat. In comes our tipster, with this gem:
My child is interviewing at private schools in Greenwich. Guess who was there for pre-K interview day yesterday? Peter Brant and Stephanie Seymour. Together. Don't they hate each other and are divorcing? [Ed. Correct.] He was unbelievable, everyone dressed casually and he's in a British shirt with purple velour (yes, purple) vest and jacket. He's big, his hair is dyed poorly (like black shoepolish), and he barreled around trying to impress the teachers there. Stephanie was right there with him. Smaller than you'd expect, but certainly there voluntarily.
It is the hypocrisy of Peter Brant (he is such a dirtball, and that is from personal family experience!) hating his wife but showing up with her to get a 3-year-old into a school is just too rich.
Now, credit where credit's due: in a war of the roses-esque battle, it's wonderful that two parents can come together to ensure their child has the richest, most moneyed edumacation one can find in the terrible, South Central: Atlantic Edition-esque hood of Greenwich, Connecticut. On the other hand, this just illustrates the continuing desperation of parents so patently insecure about where their kids are and what they're doing, even when they can ensure the guilt of neglecting them is off the table (school hours), that they'll do anything to make sure they get into the "best" one. Parenting advice for Peter and Stephanie, from someone without kids: send 'em to the School of Hard Knocks (AKA, Public School). They may not be given Spicy Tuna Crunch rolls for lunch, but if you send 'em off with a brown bag, they'll at least stand a chance of learning how to relate to the majority of humans on this planet, a fleeting, damaged capability amongst that set.