Kara Kennedy

Where is Jared Kushner? In the first Trump term, as senior advisor to the President, he was everywhere and into everything. At home, he designed policies and plotted re-election efforts. Abroad, he orchestrated the Abraham Accords, which normalized relations between Israel and several Muslim nations. This magazine even produced a 2020 cover (pictured) examining the pervasive power of “Prince” Jared. In 2025, however, Kushner seems to have learned what most people don’t understand: to call the shots in Trumpland, it helps to operate behind the scenes.

Every morning, a swarm of black SUVs deliver a 6’ 7” freshman to classes at NYU's Stern School of Business. The journey from Trump Tower takes about 20 minutes, which is enough time for 19-year-old Barron Trump to check his cryptocurrency wallets before settling into the back row of a lecture hall, flanked by Secret Service agents in hoodies and jeans, attempting (and failing) to blend in with students. The scene captures a peculiar tension in the youngest Trump's coming of age: between assimilating and standing out. While his classmates stress over student loans, unpaid internships and how to make their weekly grocery budget go further, Barron has assembled a digital fortune independently of his parents.

Here we are again, Meghan’s latest cringe-inducing social media offering: an 80-second video of her twerking in a hospital delivery room while heavily pregnant with her daughter Lilibet. The clip, posted to mark her daughter’s fourth birthday, shows the Duchess of Sussex doing what can best be described as suggestive dance moves beside her hospital bed, complete with shimmies and rowing motions, while Haz joins in wearing a hoodie. It’s peak Meghan, really – simultaneously oversharing and attention-seeking while complaining about the invasion of privacy.

For years, Eric Trump perfected the art of strategic invisibility. In the grand theater of Trump family politics, he played the understudy: the dutiful son who minded vineyards and managed golf courses while his older brother courted Twitter controversies and his older sister pursued power. It was a calculated public persona. Eric appeared refreshingly uncontroversial and unbothered – and relatively non-political – compared to the rest of his family. But here’s what everyone missed: while his siblings were soaking in the limelight, Eric was quietly orchestrating moves of far greater consequence. His dutiful pose, it turns out, was the perfect cover for building an empire.

There’s something admirable about Melania Trump’s commitment to doing absolutely nothing. While America obsesses over her husband’s latest provocations, the First Lady has opted for absence – and turned it into a pretty lucrative enterprise. Consider this month’s rare emergence from her self-imposed exile. As rumors swirled that Donald’s vendetta against Harvard stemmed from the university rejecting their son Barron, Melania was finally compelled to issue a public statement. The denial was characteristically terse: Barron never applied to Harvard, and all such assertions are “completely false.

On the ground floor of Georgetown Park, Donald Trump Jr. is putting the finishing touches on his invitation-only club, the Executive Branch. When the doors open, reportedly in the next few weeks, it will become Washington’s new power hangout. Cabinet secretaries will mingle with tech billionaires and foreign investors, each having parted with $500,000 for the privilege. The launch party last month included Secretary of State Marco Rubio, Attorney General Pam Bondi, SEC Chairman Paul Atkins, and FTC Chairman Andrew Ferguson. David Sacks, the President's crypto and AI czar, proudly announced himself as member number one. This tableau – celebrity, politics, profit – perfectly captures the Trump dynasty’s particular brand.

When Donald Trump installed himself as chairman of Washington’s Kennedy Center, the progressive arts community reacted with predictable hysteria. Artists threatened boycotts and donors withdrew their support. The Guardian reported the news as “anti-woke MAGA populism on a collision course with America’s progressive cultural scene,” while the usual suspects emerged from their Brooklyn brownstones and Malibu beach houses to decry the “assault on democracy” and predict the death of artistic expression as we know it. But as with most things Trump, the reality has proven far more interesting. Since opening in 1971 as a memorial to John F.

Somewhere atop the sun-drenched hills of coastal California, failures go to rebrand themselves, and rebrand their rebrands as "pivots." There, Kamala Harris and Meghan Markle are busy writing the next chapter in the book of blaming the system for the personal failures of wealthy and powerful people. Harris, fresh from discovering that Democratic strategists had invented the America that was enthusiastic about her, now contemplates her political afterlife. She does so from the same region of the same state where Markle, having learned that royal traditions don't yield to Instagram aesthetics, crafts multi-million-dollar deals to explain why it's everyone else's fault. Welcome to the Golden State, where yesterday's rejections become tomorrow's empowerment memoirs.

When Karoline Leavitt, the buxom blonde 27-year-old White House press secretary landed the gig, not everybody was convinced. Scott Jennings, the Bush speechwriter turned TV star, had the resume. Megyn Kelly had the fire. But Leavitt? She was a gamble, at best. But Donald Trump wasn’t concerned about her youth and inexperience. “When I was 21, I was building buildings in Manhattan,” he told her. “I believe you can have this job.” He has been vindicated. Since taking the podium, Leavitt has quieted some of her detractors with a performance that’s part combat sport, part masterclass in messaging. Like her boss, she is combative and spunky. Sometimes she mocks the legacy news reporters she feels are asking particularly bad questions.

The most important man in the palace of King Donald Trump looks set to leave the court. According to several media outlets, the President has told both his inner circle and the wider cabinet that Elon Musk will be stepping back in the coming weeks from his role in dismantling major parts of the federal government. There were obvious difficulties and time constraints from the outset when Musk started running the new Department for Government Efficiency. A person can only serve as a “special government employee” for a period of 130 days each year – time that is dwindling fast, as we approach the 100-day mark of Trump’s second term. There are also strict rules around conflicts of interests, of which Musk risks having many given all his business operations.

"Sorry, super busy,” replies someone from Lara Trump’s media team, after I texted to ask for an interview. "I’m working on her music stuff.” The Trumps love to multitask and, in the President’s first 100 days, King Donald’s favorite (that is, only) daughter-in-law has been showing off how hard she can work. Since the inauguration, and now free from the burdens of campaign politics, Lara has released a song called “No Days Off” with the rapper French Montana; a Saturday night show on Fox News; and an activewear collection in the color “MAGA red,” alongside her already established podcast, The Right View. Unfortunately, she has a different press person to dodge questions over each venture.