Pixie Curtis, the 11-year-old child of PR princess and socialite Roxy Jacenko, was interviewed about her life as a millionaire who “hasn’t even graduated from primary school yet” and the profile is, quite possibly, the most bonkers yet amazing piece of literature I’ve ever read.
Now — before we dive in, I just want to make it clear that this is not an attack on dear, sweet Pixie. Get that fairy bread, I say. I wish I had her chutzpah when I was 11 instead of, like, going to the office at lunchtime to call my Mum because no one would eat with me and I was lonely.
Rather, you just have to laugh at the idea of profiling a child millionaire to find out what they get up to when they’re not playing duck, duck, goose at recess and being forced to learn “Hot Cross Buns” on the recorder. It is an objectively funny concept and I, for one, am absolutely obsessed. J’adore.
“Pixie Curtis is a millionaire and hasn’t even graduated from primary school yet,” the profile on news.com.au read.
“The child has made millions before most of us even got our pen license at school but to be fair, she was practically born with a little black book in her hand.”
Pixie, a girlboss through and through, built her empire — which she’s since “semi-retired” from, mind you — selling bows and launching a fidget spinner business during the COVID-19 pandemic.
She also admitted to being a nepo baby, which I’m sure helped with the whole empire building.
“My parents have given me lots of opportunities, so, I suppose I am a nepo baby,” she said. We stan a self-aware queen.
But enough business! We want to know what it’s really like to be a Year 6 student who owns a $270,000 Mercedes Benz GI, even though she can’t drive it, and is currently saving up for either a Range Rover or a ute!
Pixie told news.com.au she’s a “night owl” who usually hits the hay around 11pm, and she’s not a morning person. You and me both, doll! Do NOT come to me until I’ve had my java!
The relatability doesn’t stop there ‘cos her diet is “pretty typical for a child”, according to the profile. The wee lass feasts on “rice crackers with Vegemite, TimTams [and] chicken crimps” for lunch. Yum yum piggy bum!
Ever the relatable queen, however, Pixie “offloads” the fresh fruit and cucumbers her Mum packs in her lunch box to her mates.
Speaking of friends, her ability to maintain relationships with Da Galz hasn’t been affected by her roaring success.
“Just like Taylor Swift, she’s still managed to harness a strong girl squad,” the profile read. Truer words have never been spoken.
“My friends have been the same since kindy as I have been at the same school since I was five. They don’t think I am any different to anyone else, and I’m not; if anything, they love to hang at my place because they love to hang out in mum’s glam room and I wash and blow-dry their hair,” Pixie said.
I’ve got one question for Pixie’s mates, and one question only: how does it feel to live MY dream?
As for her worldly goods, she’s “still like many young Australians relying on the bank of Mum and Dad” as the profile puts it. Multi-million dollar empire be damned, she’s really just like you and I!
“My dad puts money on my Spriggy for when I go to the shops with my friends on the weekends, but any splurges are for a birthday or as a reward for doing well on something or a bribe,” Pixie said.
Firstly: what on Earth is a Spriggy? Back in MY day I was given $5 to buy lollies at the deli and was warned that if I lost it, it was my own damn fault.
Secondly: I am sobbing at “splurges” being used as part of the bribe negotiation process. Again, back in MY day an adequate bribe was being given, like, a packet of Tiny Teddies on the proviso that I shut the fuck up in Kmart.
But the luxuries don’t stop there for young Pixie.
“The Goyard bag that I got for Christmas from my parents was really cool and pretty pricey. I put it on my list, but I didn’t think I would actually get it,” she said.
But you did, dear girl! Because you’ve earned millions of dollars selling hair bows and fidget spinners and your parents are loaded. That’s simply the nature of the game. ‘Nuff said.
Thus concludes the deep dive into the life of an 11-year-old child millionaire. Do you hate yourself even more than you did before, and also feel exceptionally poor? Because I do!
