BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. — The Getty family is known for many things. A welcome to prying eyes is not one of them.
Invite a reporter to run a tape recorder in the living room? Are you insane? Like other journalists over the decades, he will delight in dredging up their darkest stuff — the drug addictions, the Shakespearean dysfunction, the tragic kidnapping and ransom drama that they’ve spent 45 years trying to forget.
Yet there I was, sitting across from Ariadne Getty, 55, at her dining room table as she took careful sips of chicken noodle soup. She was flanked by her son, August, a budding fashion designer with a substantial spray tan, and by her daughter, Nats, a tattooed, terrifyingly no-nonsense artist and street wear entrepreneur.
Also seated at the table on this spring day were two publicists, a brown Chihuahua named Bandit and Sarah Kate Ellis, the chief executive of Glaad, the L.G.B.T.Q. advocacy group.
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/23/style/getty-family.html
The only member of the entire Getty family ever worth a shit is the old man, J. Paul. The rest of them are worthless trash who inherited old money.
