I felt like such a turd on the night of Monday, June 2. “Turd’” is a very underused word. At some point soon I will dedicate my life to restoring it to popular usage. In the meantime permit me to elaborate on the circumstances that occasioned this unpleasant feeling.
There I Read More
At the risk of sounding a bit elitist and foppish, I must confess that while Madge was trying to save Malawian infants, I spent most of last week attempting to conjure up the ghost of Marcel Proust.
Faced with the challenge of concocting an event to launch the new Lanvin men’s collection at Barneys, I Read More
There in the Great Hall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Mick Jagger loomed above them all. Dressed in a white Kangol newsboy’s hat, a white double-breasted jacket with dark piping, orange pants and a sheen of sweat, Mr. Jagger’s arms, legs and even his magnificent lips seemed to be flying off in different directions Read More