Nicki Minaj’s Baby Boy Is Already Wearing Designer Clothes – But What’s Wrong With That?

Proof that 2021 is happily picking up in the weird place that 2020 left off: there is now a three-month old baby who is more pulled together than you or I. The baby in question? Nicki Minaj's son - still known only to fans as 'Papa Bear' - who made his debut on his proud mum'sInstagram this weekend wearing a succession of designer looks. 'Thank you so very much for choosing me to be your mama,' she wrote. 'Becoming a mom is by far the most fulfilling job I've ever taken on'.

He might be only weeks old, but 'Papa Bear' already has an enviable array of designer threads (well there has to be some payoff for being born in 2020): Burberry, Versace and Fendi babygrows (he also has two of the matching monogrammed prams); a diddy Gucci tracksuit; a toy Bentley; and even a bit of bling, like the glittering Papa Bear necklace and bracelet. These are clothes to pop Cristal in or, you know, Aptamil.

Nicki isn't the only one with a soft spot for mini-me designer garb. Last year, Kylie Jenner took to Instagram to show off her daughter Stormi’s new Louis Vuitton bag (days later she showed off the two-year old's collection of Prada mini bags). She was trumped by Cardi B who has scooped up an Hermès Birkin, AKA the trophy bag for any generation, for her toddler Kulture.

In instances like these, judgement can be as swift as it is predictable. But – and I say this tentatively knowing I run the risk of sounding like North West London’s very own Marie Antoinette – I don’t have a problem this extravagance. What I do have a problem with is that we are constantly holding up other people’s parenting – women's in particular – for forensic analysis, judgement and derision. Let’s remember, nobody was harmed in the making of these Instagrams.

So, what is it that makes women like Nicki, Kylie and Cardi fair game? Sure, it’s the Faustian pact you make when you catapult yourself into the world of global fame; the scrutiny is the bill for the wealth and privilege. But I also I happen to think there is a class issue at play here, and a hefty dollop of snobbery.

At the beginning of the first lockdown I wrote about how status symbols hadn’t disappeared but, thanks to Zoom, simply shape-shifted into the home– tasteful art, expensive candles, luxury blankets, and so on. When we buy into these, in whatever guise, we allow people to make assumptions about us and fill in the gaps about our taste levels and bank balances. Fashion people – the gatekeepers of so-called ‘good taste’ – are just as guilty of this as anyone else, it’s just that they often veer towards quieter pieces. The messages are still there, but they’re being whispered rather than announced in neon lights. We turn a blind eye to that and yet we feel entitled to mock the unapologetically obvious ostentation of reality stars, rappers and footballers, which makes me feel uncomfortable. It might not always feel like it, but there isn’t really such a thing as ‘good’ or for that matter ‘bad’ taste. It’s all a matter of opinion and invisible, ever-changing lines.

I completely understand why people find this kind of peacocking particularly gross right now. We are on the cusp of a savage economic downturn, with many of us terrified about the fundamental support structures of our lives, like how to keep food in the fridge and a roof over our heads. But this brings me to another point of my defence: don’t we all have other issues to be worrying about, other causes to be rallying behind, other, bigger things to be getting angry about than some baby's clothes, however expensive they are? On social media, outrage can often be the default setting, but by channeling it into things that don’t matter, we miss the things that do.

There’s a starkness to this kind of ostentation that I wouldn’t say I admire but that I can accept for what it is (if you’re on Instagram, you’re already buying into the comparison culture machine). It’s crucial to retain a sense of perspective. After all, most parents spoil their child in some capacity. It’s just that the boundaries, context and, yes, budgets are different in the A-List world of private jets, mega mansions and bodyguards. Privilege is rampant in society, it is what (wrongfully) props up our clunkiest institutions, stymies progress and puts us all on different starting lines. Where we get into trouble is when we deny it; at least in the case of Nicki et al, you can see it. She's earned her money, why shouldn't she enjoy it?

Clothes are essential, fashion is an indulgence, and some of us can indulge more than others. I don’t have a toddler for whom to buy a Birkin, and to be frank I am more likely to get hold of the former before I do the latter, but that doesn’t mean I resent Kulture for having hers. Celebrities have never existed on the same planet as the rest of us, they’re not ‘just like us’ – but that’s the nub of their appeal.

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