What makes a “good” nepo baby?
Only a select few earn the “this is how you nepo right” praises. Let’s unpack why.
I, like many others, am regularly amused by Romy Mars’s social media presence. The 18-year-old is the eldest daughter of film auteur Sofia Coppola and is often celebrated for the inside look she provides at what life’s like as the child of the rich and famous. I love her TikToks from private jet flights with Adam Driver. I’ll quickly double-tap photos of her link-ups with Lana Del Rey. And most recently, a video of her casually dancing with Jacob Elordi—now sitting pretty at 32 million views—is what’s furthered the internet’s pro-Romy agenda. Reactions along the lines of “This is how you nepo right” or “Me if I were a nepo baby” are easy to find in her comment section.
It’s widely understood that while being a celebrity nepo baby offers valuable industry connections and advantages, it comes with certain social expectations online. Many social media users maintain that being born into a famous family is a privilege that nepos should always acknowledge and maybe even apologize for. Should they opt for fake humility or misrepresent their come-up—acting as though their success was only the result of hard work and sheer talent—they’re held under fire by the Stan Twitter Tribunal. (At most, that “fire” is a few snarky or dismissive tweets.)
But certain names narrowly avoid that treatment. They reap the benefits of their last name and are praised by online stans who actually venerate their nepo status. So what traits leave you immune to nepo shaming—as Romy, Tracee Ellis Ross, and a select few other children of celebs seem to be? Well, if you happen to be the child of a megastar looking for some guidance or are just generally curious, I’ve outlined the unofficial rules.
At the bare minimum, this can be a cheeky acknowledgment of your privilege and access (see: Hailey Bieber’s “Nepo Baby” tee). But a certain mystique surrounds the 1 percent. We think, Surely they have it all, so any semblance of denial that they don’t triggers resentment.
What “good” nepo babies do is shatter the already pretty weak illusion that they will ever be relatable. Romy can charter a helicopter on a whim, and Tracee Ellis Ross has childhood anecdotes about her family playing tennis with Cher and Michael Jackson. They are not at all like you and me and refuse to insult their audience’s intelligence by pretending that they ever were. By providing a clear look at the glamorous perks of nepo life rather than trying to awkwardly obscure the benefits, you let fans—like those in Romy’s comments—live through you, unhealthy as that may be. Which brings me to the next rule.
Have Good Taste or a Ridiculous Amount of Talent
Growing up around people paid to be cool helps, but you cannot manufacture aura. People love seeing those with the means to execute their inherently great sense of style do so to the fullest. (See also: “this is how you rich right” comments under the billionaire Becca Bloom’s extravagant wedding videos.) That’s why Tracee Ellis Ross has become such a fashion icon, totally separate from Diana’s impact.
On that note, it also helps to carve out a public image unassociated with your parents’. And the safest way to do so is by making projects that are impactful enough to leave their own distinct imprints on people. Growing up in an artistic household surely means you’re encouraged to foster any smidgen of talent early, with plenty of resources to help—but if you deliver quality work, like Lily-Rose Depp’s Nosferatu performance, or Willow Smith’s Grammy-nominated record Empathogen, even the most cynical posters among us must put aside their grievances and give you your tens. So just try to outsell your parents artistically. Light work.
Remind People That Charm Can Be Genetic
Now, this rule may seem like it contradicts the previous one, but there’s a fine line to walk here. Cheap attempts to cash in on your parents’ legacy are a no-go. But say you’re Mark Ruffalo’s son who just so happens to share many of his father’s adorably awkward mannerisms in a red-carpet interview or one of Steve Irwin’s kids, whose passion for wildlife feels incredibly reminiscent of the late conservationist. That likeness allows fans to adopt a weird parasocial auntie position. “He acts/says this just like his dad here,” remarks are a common form of praise for the good nepo babies. Or the even more oddly familiar: “It feels like he was born just yesterday…where has the time gone?” If a fan who has never—and will never—interact with you can assume a semi-familial role in your comment section, that’s one less person using your nepo status against you. Congratulations.
Humble Your Parents
This rule is an underrated but surefire way to earn public support. There’s a widespread assumption that celebrities have oversized egos, so it humors us commoners to know that they’ve raised someone who forces them to confront their regular-degular humanity. North West and Kim Kardashian’s dynamic is a great example. Kim, the cultural icon she is, cannot avoid candid critique from her eldest daughter, which amuses fans so much that there are full YouTube compilations of her most biting digs.
If there’s anything I’ve learned from how “good” nepo babies are received, it’s that fans are actually ready to support these children of famous people—they just need some permission. In a post–New York Magazine “nepo baby” cover universe, everyone’s aware that it’s not “cool” to root for them, yet people will seek out ways to veil their stanning, including a backhanded “she’s one of the good nepo babies” tweet once in a while.
Many nepo babies fall into the self-defense trap. They’ll insist that they’ve worked twice as hard to combat preconceived notions or that they walked into audition rooms using a fake last name to shed any unearned industry cachet or that they were financially cut off at some implausible age—so how privileged could they really be? So if you want to avoid the trap that’s caught plenty of nepos throughout time, don’t answer a question about being a nepo baby by having your publicist shut the subject down or, even worse, treating it like an actual slur.
The real key to being one of the good ones is to own your status to a fan-fictitious degree. If you’re going to wield privilege and access, people respond better when you let them live vicariously through you, rather than shying away from the label entirely and all that makes the life glossy and exciting. Like the fact that you can force Jacob Elordi to do a TikTok with you on a random Saturday.
Credit: Cosmopolitan