An Adelaide girl has become renowned for namedropping her wealthy dad into any conversation she possibly can.
But Grace, 20, who can barely tell her Dolce from her Gabbana, admits she doesn’t exactly know what her dad does for a living.
“I don’t know what Daddy does but he’s really high up,” she said.
“He’s always wearing suits — I think he’s like a businessman or something.”
While Grace’s time jumps between talking about boys and how wealthy she is, her Dad, Paul, says her daughter has utterly the wrong idea.
“She doesn’t understand that I run a shady financial firm and that I’m actually in debt,” he said.
“The Jet Ski, Porsche, holiday home down at Victor, my overseas assets — they’re all tax write-offs … it’s all a facade.
“We even tried claiming the $10,000 expense of Grace’s upcoming 21st birthday party as business.”
But Grace’s current concept of wealth constitutes of what brand of car one drives, how big one’s pool is and how often one can get their hand on Daddy’s Amex.
Her warped way of thinking is a shocking reality facing many families in Australia’s highest socioeconomic suburbs.
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THE MANKAD 