Hello, Architectural Digest. I am an A-list celebrity who has agreed to show millions of people the inside of my home—an intimate place that few eyes have ever seen… except this isn’t my home, because I don’t actually live here. In this episode of Open Door, I will give you a tour of a giant estate that I own but have never visited until today. Watch me pretend that I had any input on the decor while my interior designer stands behind the camera and tells me what to say.

This foyer was modeled after the French provincial style and reveals zero meaningful details about me. While most entryways have shoes, coats, dust, and other visible signs of life, mine does not. My architect accomplished the incredible feat of making this room feel completely lifeless. If you look closely, you’ll see inspiration from both Claude Perrault and sensory deprivation chambers.

Follow me into the kitchen that has never been used. Let me draw your attention to this pile of lemons. This is a normal pile of lemons. This pile of lemons was placed here to convince viewers that I know how to turn on an oven. (I do not.) My publicist invented a cute story that made it seem like I don’t have a private chef who prepares all my meals. Here it is:

I love to cook for my family, a group of people who have seen this house in real life. My favorite dish to make them is macaroni and cheese, which is a down-to-earth meal that should offset the fact that we’re walking around a million-dollar mansion that looks like it was copied and pasted from Pinterest.

Check out this La Cornue stove. Check out these vintage Murano glass sconces. Check out my willingness to spend thousands of dollars on luxury amenities that serve no purpose other than to show off on a magazine’s YouTube channel.

This is the “living” room, which is ironic because we are the first people to step foot in here who are not hired contractors. Look at this sorry excuse for a couch—it could be in a museum for brutalist furniture and also in a medical textbook about chronic back pain. The previous owner tried to take a nap on it and damaged their sciatic nerve. Watch me sit on it. I’m the first person to do so since the 1960s.

We are standing on a nineteenth-century Persian rug that costs more than the average American home, and we are all still wearing our shoes. My home in LA has a strict shoes-off policy, because I actually live there and am invested in keeping it clean. This place is like the set of a movie. It is artificially constructed scenery, and it would be awful to spend more than an hour in here. It also smells bad, which doesn’t matter, because you can’t smell through the internet.

Quick PSA: If anyone needs to use the bathroom, do not. The plumbing system has not been installed yet. It would be a waste of money to outfit this place with anything that doesn’t directly translate to positive impressions on social media.

Home is a very special place. It is somewhere you can relax, be yourself, and let your guard down. It is where messes happen, and memories are made. It is a deeply personal space that I would never show you. That is why we are standing here, in a house I bought three months ago filled with beautiful yet impersonal stuff and countless items meticulously curated to fit my brand.

Thanks for coming, AD, but it’s time for you to leave. Please delete the clip of me throwing wooden logs into the electric fireplace. I didn’t realize that was also a façade.