Paris Hilton’s 8-month-old daughter, London, is visiting the capital of England for the first time. The socialite shared some adorable posts from their trip to the city that shares her daughter’s name. Fans gushed over the little girl’s cuteness, and people were quick to share their opinions about her posts.
The 43-year-old heiress posted an adorable video of herself showering her baby daughter, London Hilton Reum, with kisses during their inaugural trip to England’s capital. “London is in London!” exclaimed Paris at the start of the video. She then added, “Hi, smiley girl!”
Paris’ post served as a glamorous promotion for her family’s renowned hotel, The London Hilton. She included hashtags such as #ItMattersWhereYouStay, #HiltonPartner, and #HiltonForTheStay to highlight the partnership.
A few days later, the TV personality shared a series of new photos featuring her husband, Carter, their daughter, London, and their son, Phoenix, posing at the entrance of The London Hilton. She captioned the post, “London Hilton at The London Hilton!” and once again included the promotional hashtags.
Fans quickly showered the star with compliments about her adorable family, especially noting how cute the little girl is.
One person remarked, “Can we talk about how cute London looks in pink?” while another added, “London is already a sliving icon.” A third exclaimed, ’’Your family is ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL!!! Little Miss London Hilton looks just like you and your siblings when they were babies!!!
While the photos are undeniably sweet and picture-perfect, people online expressed concern about the socialite leveraging her family to promote her business, as one observer noted, “Using her baby to promote her business. Classic.”
Our hearts are warmed by looking at this beautiful family. Another celebrity child who recently captivated attention with her stunning beauty is Jason Momoa and Lisa Bonet’s 16-year-old daughter Lola. You can see her gorgeous photos here.
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
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