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Aaron Gell

The Eight-Day Week

Susan Miller.

To Do Wednesday: Hairs of the Dog

Today should be a national holiday in recognition of the two-day hangover. Let’s raise a glass of something—anything—to the enduring collective headache. And cheers to New Year’s Eve, whether you were in Millbrook for shooting and scotch (on scotch on scotch)or in Palm Beach for a party hosted by the Coconuts—that super-special club of just 24 men, including David Koch, Leonard Lauder and Wilbur Ross—wearing a carnation and a white jacket for the occasion.

Whatever you did on December 31, yesterday was a joke. Read More

The Art World

Illustration by Amy Melson

Deconstructing Larry: Defections and Lawsuits Chip Gagosian’s Enamel

Tom Wolfe’s new novel, the Miami-set Back to Blood, has not been particularly well-received by book critics, but at the balmy, prosecco-soaked doorbuster sale and glad-handing jubilee known as Art Basel Miami Beach in early December, attendees armed with e-readers passed around one brief passage with gleeful approval. The scene, which comes midway through the book and is set at the same fair, introduces a character in whom many see an eerie resemblance to dealer Larry Gagosian—the art world’s widely admired, widely feared and widely resented top dog. The character, a gallery dealer named Harry Goshen (the name is perhaps a tip-off) is described as “a tall man with gray hair, although he doesn’t look all that old, and eerie pale-gray eyes like the slanted eyes of a husky.”

A bit mesmerized, Mr. Wolfe’s narrator circles back to Goshen’s eyes a few lines later: “So pale, those eyes … they look ghostly and sinister …”

Several fairgoers who encountered Mr. Gagosian in his booth in the Miami Beach Convention Center took note of his eyes as well. Not sinister, they said, just tired.

“Maybe it’s getting to him,” one art adviser surmised. “The travel, the expansion. At some point, it hits you the wrong way. It’s hard to satisfy everyone and keep all the balls in the air, and when you go to the top like that you become a target. People love to get the giant.”

It’s been an unusually challenging period for Mr. Gagosian, the art world’s silver-maned dealer-emperor, whose sharp eye for talent, business prowess and aggressive style of deal-making propelled an ascendancy from modest beginnings as a Los Angeles street peddler—hawking cheap posters in Westwood—to a position of unrivaled dominance in the international art trade, a sovereignty that some are predicting, a tad eagerly, may soon come to a close. Read More

Survival Mode

Illo: Robert Grossman

New York to Sandy: ‘Blow Me’

As The Observer was going to press on Tuesday, the death toll from what appeared to be the most devastating storm our city has ever experienced was up to 18, after 80 mph winds battered the city and waves as high as 14 feet washed through its streets. Among the storm’s victims were Jessie Streich-Kest and Jacob Vogelman, a pair of friends in their early 20s who were found under a fallen tree in Ditmas Park, having ventured out to walk Jessie’s dog. The subways were slowly draining of water and nobody knew when the system would groan to life again. More than 80 homes had burned to the ground in Breezy Point. As many as 750,000 New Yorkers were without power. The financial markets were down. Schools were closed. People were throwing around estimates of losses in the many, many billions.

A giant crane dangled limply, forebodingly from the side of the most prestigious new address in town.

Eleven years after the World Trade Center attacks, our city was again under siege. The sun was up there, somewhere, but the recovery was just beginning.

Not too long ago—or was it forever?—back when the name Sandy brought to mind a loyal mutt beloved of a plucky red-haired orphan and a tropical depression without a name was just stirring to life in the Caribbean Sea southwest of Jamaica, it was fashionable to complain that New York was getting soft. Read More

The Transom

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Dancehall Days: The Vybz Kartel Record Release Party

A crowd of music fans, including Fab Five Freddy, spilled out onto West Houston Street on a clear night last week. The occasion was the record release party for Kingston Story Deluxe Edition, the latest album by Jamaican dancehall superstar Vybz Kartel, a k a the World Boss, a k a Gaza Don, a k a the Teacher, a k a Adija Palmer. Read More

Unintended Consequences

Veep of faith: Romney and Ryan. (Getty)

How the GOP May Have Just Lost the Election and Won the Future

In selecting Rep. Paul Ryan as the next would-be President Vice President of the United States, Mitt Romney has rolled the dice on a risky, game-changing candidate (with all the baggage the term implies), a good-looking running mate with serious policy chops, who could nonetheless cost him the race. Meanwhile, however, the move appears to tee up a new era of GOP dominance that could find Mr. Ryan in the White House come 2016, while his erstwhile patron looks on from the private-sector sidelines. Read More

I Wuz Robbed

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Ex-Nazi Twins Prussian Blue Confirm: Daily Mirror Ripped Off Murdoch’s The Daily

On June 27, the Daily Mirror, a London-based tabloid, published a fascinating story about Lamb and Lynx Gaede, who several years ago fronted their own teen pop band, Prussian Blue, that gained some notoriety for its espousal of Holocaust denial and White Nationalism.

Now all grown up, the Mirror reported, the Gaede girls had “had a radical change of heart—and are now singing a different tune.”

Having moved from Bakersfield, California, to small-town Montana, they had experienced some rough times. Lamb had come down with serious health issues, and had begun using medical marijuana to treat the pain. Meanwhile, they had renounced racism completely. It was a fun bit of news, and a number of other newspapers picked it up. The National Ledger ran a piece linking back to the Daily Mail, which cited the Mirror. The Algemeiner, a Jewish newspaper based in Brooklyn, also cited the Mirror. Hollywood Life linked to the Daily Mail.

But the story sounded familiar. Read More

Class Distinctions

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Has Avenues Mastermind Chris Whittle Learned His Lesson?

One evening in late March, the entrepreneur H. Christopher Whittle found himself in a large conference room in Renda Fuzhong, an elite Chinese academy in Beijing’s Haidian district, rattling off his pitch for Avenues, the bilingual for-profit New York preparatory school set to open in September in a former warehouse building on 10th Avenue in Chelsea.

Listening intently to the presentation were 20 Renda ninth-graders who were already committed to Avenues in the fall and about 100 parents and grandparents. Mr. Whittle explained that a decade hence, Avenues: the World School would comprise an international network of 20 academies, serving K through 12, spanning the globe from Doha to Moscow, and Mexico City to Johannesburg. Every student in the network will have an “automatic transfer right” to any other school—whether to expand his or her own educational horizons or due to the globe-trotting habits of their parents. (In that sense, it’s a little like a pedagogic timeshare, offering an array of comfortable home bases to the next generation of rootless cosmopolitans.) He talked about the intense competition for Ivy League spots, and how it would only get worse. And he talked about the spectacular new facility taking shape beside the High Line. Read More