Vanity Fair Profiled the Brant Brothers Because Vanity Fair Hates You

Earlier this summer, we brought you the New York Times' feature on those lovable 18th century furniture humpers the Brant Brothers. And I bet you were wondering, "Well, just whose Ubermenschen are these two Junior Pattinsons pollinating today?" Thankfully, the good folks at Vanity Fair took time out from photographing Jackie O's collection of coffee tables to give these two pale shitheads another national profile. Let's dive in. After all, EVERYONE loves celebrity children!

The Brothers Brant (That's Peter and Harry) on the Pleasures of Being 1-Percenters, Sexuality, and Suri Cruise's Fashion Sense

That's the headline. I hope you've taped up your fists good and tight! Please note that Vanity Fair is trumpeting insights on sexuality from a 15-year-old, which would totally be creepy if the 15-year-old in question weren't a tiny, unthreatening dipshit.

"I feel like I'm in a bad episode of Gossip Girl," Peter, the elder Brant brother, moans to contributing editor Nancy Jo Sales, holding up his iPhone to show her a picture from a recent charity ball.

Is there any other kind of episode of "Gossip Girl"? Terrible Kristen Bell Voiceover says this ball is L-O-Hell, AMIRITE?!

Anyway, I'm glad that this article joins the Brants right in the middle of them being casually indifferent to their life of fabulous opulence. When they say MEH, it just carries more weight than a regular MEH, you know? It's like hearing from Oscar Wilde, if Oscar Wilde possessed no discernible talent of any sort.

"I might be gay," he now tells Sales. "I'm both, kind of, a little bit...."

"Call me 40% gayish."

"I do both, and, you know, I'm cool with everything. I don't like to be defined. I personally don't think that you can be. I'm undefinable."

You are so wrong.

"I'm undefined."

I am an ad for a fragrance. I am... UNDEFINITIVE.

"And I think that anyone who thinks they have me figured out knows nothing about me, 'cause very few people in the world actually know anything about how my mind works."

This is incorrect. I know exactly how Peter Brant's mind works. Join me for a brief exploration, will you?

(crawls into mind portal located behind filing cabinet on Floor 7 1/2)

What should I say to this woman to make me sound deep, even though I'm just an idiot teenager? JOAN CRAWFORD IS, LIKE, AMAZING. OMG, I'm gonna tweet that at Derek Blasberg right now. He's such a tacky European man. I don't know what tacky means, really. This matador vest looks great on me. I'm going to masturbate to that ottoman without actually touching my penis, because I think that would make me unique.

(spit back out by Lincoln Tunnel)

Are we all back now? Okay, let's move on...

"From now on when people ask me what I ‘do' I'm just gonna say icon," 15-year-old Harry wrote recently on the boys' joint Twitter feed.

Well, that's the thing about icons, Brother Brant Harry (Can I call you Brother Brant Harry? You know what, never mind. I'm just gonna go with Snow Twat.) The thing about icons is that icons DO things, and then they become icons because they've proven superlative at whatever it is they do. For example, Whitney Houston was an icon, because she was a very good singer. Joe Montana is an icon, because he was very good at football. That's how it works. You don't get to just jump right to icon status. You can't just buy a Degree in Iconship from the U. of Phoenix (though they're surely working on it). You have to be a productive human being, not some overprivileged dickbag who thinks having a job means cleaning out Daddy's horsey stall on Sunday morning before your polo match.

On the other hand, Peter reassures Sales, "It's not like we're Suri Cruise." Though he hasn't met her, Peter says he'd like to. "She's one of my idols," he says.

Suri Cruise is six years old. You're an idiot.

Both boys agree that Suri is something of a fashion guru.

(goes back through the portal)

If I say that Suri Cruise is my idol, it'll be tres outrageous!

(back out the Lincoln Tunnel)

"And it's all coming from her," Harry remarks. "She's always got some 'do. I love her hair." "Clearly she's just an awesome person," Peter agrees.

What you, the reader, are experiencing right now is the sensation of insincerity taking on a tangible form, covering you in a thick grey film that you can feel leaching down into the roots of your teeth. It's as if you'll never hear anyone saying anything genuine ever again, and I'm deeply sorry for that. All I can do to make it go away is to be as honest and direct with you as possible when I tell you FUCK THESE PEOPLE.

"And she always has some, like, sassy frog slippers." Harry continues, "And, like, jammies in the restaurant." Or as Peter remembers, "Didn't she have some ladybug boots? I was like, I need those."

You don't have them already, dear Brother Snow Twat?

Harry knows the ones he means: "I have them in gray."

HOORAY! You are now in the very WORST episode of "Gossip Girl".

There was, the boys tell Sales, one major disappointment to their spring social calendar:

No one who maintains a social calendar is allowed to be disappointed with anything in life. These people are aliens. I would like Curiosity to land on them and take photos of the empty, craterous landscape inside their skulls.

"complications" with their tickets to the annual Met Ball.

OH NO! Met Ball complications are the worst complications of all!

"I had arranged for the baby panther and everything," Peter complained.

"I was going to sodomize mother with its head!"

"What could be better than diamonds and exotic baby animals?"

What if that baby animal were to grow to adult size and then eat you? That could be better.

Sales reports that the boys had also cued up a gold-plated Rolls-Royce to deposit them and their baby panther on the red carpet.

Let's all just take a moment to step back, count to ten, maybe walk around in the forest for a moment. If I don't personally do that right now, I'm gonna burn my own house down.

Indeed, Harry observes, "You're nobody until PETA either loves you or hates you."

Again, this is not the proper path to iconoship. Renting a baby panther and then using it as a fucking stole doesn't guarantee you Somebodyhood. But no, continue on with your plan. Wear a necklace of live hamsters and see where it gets you in life.

Because of their parents, the boys explain, fashion and art are a part of their everyday lives."There's just no way around it," Harry says.

I CANNOT HELP BEING THIS FABULOUS.

"We wake up and see beauty everywhere. Both my parents bring such a unique element to it. They've both devoted their lives to beauty."

"From now, I'm going to harbor an unhealthy obsession with superficial looks. FIRE THE FAT MAID."

Though things went sour briefly in 2009 and 2010, during what became their parents' highly publicized gossip-column divorce, the boys say their family life is better now. "We have lengthy dinner conversations," Harry says.

STEPHANIE SEYMOUR: Harry, eat your graffiti eggplant.

HARRY: Mother, please don't define me as an "eater".

"It can be about anything-whether we went to a show, or an auction, or an option sale."

It can be about, like, Maxwell Simpson. Maxwell Simpson is one of my true heroes.

"It can be about gardening or fashion or magazines." Peter chimes in, "We're, like, a very aesthetic family."

Things that aren't discussed as the Brant family dinner table: God, education, war, anything book-related except for leather book covers, responsibility, charity, the "November Rain" video.

"We have so many adventures," exclaims Harry, despite the Met Ball snafu. "We stayed at an island with Naomi [Campbell] not too long ago. It was like a private island," in the Bahamas, Peter tells Sales.

Did she hit you with a phone? Please tell me the bitch hit you with a phone.

"We were all, like, on one of those little rafts in the bay. We were, like, lying around talking, and the rope that connected the raft to the beach got broken off.… And we just started drifting, but we didn't notice. And then one of us got up to get water or something from, like, a cooler, and we were, like, Where are we? We had drifted way out into the ocean. We all started freaking out and, like, waving our arms." They were towed back to shore eventually.

And we are all poorer for it. DEATH IS THE ULTIMATE IN UNDEFINEABILITY.

[Image via Getty]