Lourdes and Maddox and Miley, oh my! In this brand-obsessed time, a famous last name is a ticket to fame and fortune and nepotism is no longer a dirty word

This article is from the May/June issue of Radar Magazine. For a risk-free issue, click here.

At Gucci's $11 million party at the UN in February, the A-list—including Tom and Katie, Ashton and Demi, Gwyneth, and a very pregnant J. Lo—turned out in force. But it was a sixth grader, albeit one with an unimpeachable pop pedigree, who stole the show. Clad in a modest black Gucci dress with sensible tights, black Mary Janes, and hip black nail polish, Madonna's 11-year-old daughter, Lourdes Ciccone Leon, strode the red carpet, thrusting her elbow out to give the paps a studied quarter turn. During the post-dinner charity auction, Lourdes put her considerable allowance to work, raising a paddle to bid thousands on a first-edition Harry Potter book. The next day, the tabs judged her debut a success, and with that, a new Aristo-brat was born.

After spending a decade observing the antics of George W. Bush, the Hiltons, and the Osbournes, one might have thought we'd had our fill of nepotistas. No such luckThey're everywhere these days, privileged offspring with fresh faces and familiar surnames, chasing the limelight while the rest of us look on. When two-year-old Cruz Beckham took the stage this winter at the Spice Girls' Madison Square Garden show, break dancing live for an audience of 15,000, the crowd went wild. At the Oscars, a freakishly poised 15-year-old Miley Cyrus (who recently added Ray to her name to match Dad's) presented an award, wearing a jarringly adult Valentino gown. Around the same time, Frances Bean Cobain was modeling Dior in Harper's Bazaar, and Bindi Irwin, the nine-year-old daughter of the late "Crocodile Hunter," was touring America, charming Larry King, rapping (yes, rapping) on the Today Show, and yukking it up with Ellen. Over in Milan, Pier Silvio Berlusconi (the dashing 39-year-old son of the Italian media mogul) was hosting James Murdoch (the dashing 35-year-old son of the Australian media mogul) at his estate, presumably to discuss how they'll divvy up control of the world when their old men kick off. Several weeks after the Gucci gala, Jennifer Lopez welcomed her twins, Max and Emme Anthony, into the world with a People cover. A few decades down the road, they're doubtlessly destined to become, say, noted painters like Ally Hilfiger, the subject of a recent gallery show at the Chelsea Art Museum; radio talk-show hosts like Luke (son of Tim) Russert; or real estate magnates like Ivanka Trump.

Meanwhile, MTV, which previously hit Aristo-brat pay dirt with The Osbournes, Run's House, and My Super Sweet 16, recently premiered Rock the Cradle, an American Idol–style competition show starring the children of famous musicians, including Lil Al (son of Al) B Sure, Landon (son of Bobby) Brown, Jesse (son of Eddie) Money, Crosby (son of Kenny) Loggins, and Lucy Walsh, platinum-haired spawn of Eagles guitarist Joe Walsh. "This show is not about nepotism," insists MTV development exec Maira Suro. "These kids really have a right to be up there on the stage."

After spending a decade observing the antics of George W. Bush, the Hiltons, and the Osbournes, one might have thought we'd had our fill of nepotistas. No such luck. Forget America's long-standing image as a great meritocracy; these days, an aristocratic chill is gripping the nation as never before. Fame, the chief commodity of our era, is now being passed from generation to generation.