Congratulations, Frances Bean Cobain. You’ve taken the whole spawn-of-celebrities thing in stride. You may have had some rough patches growing up in the shadow of your late father and your, let’s say, unpredictable mother. The custody battles, the strained relations, the tabloids, your mother’s alleged pill bottles as art, and the persistent Ono-like rumors about the cause of your father’s suicide cannot have been easy, but you’ve sailed past them in style.

Now you’re all grown up, you’ve lost your baby fat, you have matted and tousled hair suitable for rock progeny, you smoke, you make grown-up art, and you have more tattoos than your mom — almost as many as Marc Jacobs. And boy, are they doozies. A large portrait of writer and gay icon Quentin Crisp? We never would have thunk it. You’ve even posed for Hedi Slimane. So here’s to you, Frances Bean Cobain. Happy 21st birthday.