Welcome to The Assignment. I'm Adi Cornish.

You know, yacht season is a meaningless term to me, but this year it feels like the people

enjoying yacht season won't shut up about it.

We're not allowed to say the word yacht, but like a yacht.

For example, this is Bethany Frankel, Grand Dame of reality, TV Housewives.

Listen closely, and you hear something very specific in this post.

She's talking about the yacht as a public milestone of aspirational success.

I'm not broke anymore, and I work hard, and I'm getting a boat for me in the Nepo Baby,

and I'm so excited. I recognize that people are not in this

position, but I'm really excited, and it feels really good, and I can't believe it. I can't

believe I did this, and one day you'll do it too. This month, the Ritz Carlton launched a new

super yacht with a literal boat full of celebrities and rich kids of Instagram.

It's imagery that goes beyond paparazzi long-lens shots of A-listers sunning themselves.

These are daily reminders that the super-rich, they're not like us.

It's because these objects have become these symbols of the ultimate level of exclusivity, of luxury, of indulgence, of satisfaction, all of these quite abstract concepts that companies are desperate to try to be

associated with have sort of settled and distilled into this one very distinct world of

of yachts that are the most expensive objects that our species has ever figured out how to own.

So what makes this gilded age so different from the last one?

Why is extreme wealth being disguised as aspirational yet relatable social media content?

Just what is the message for all of us normies?

Evan Osnos, the New Yorker, has the answer.

Back in a moment.

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