You know you’ve gotten somewhere in public life when other people are described in terms of you.
And Eliot Spitzer has arrived.
A short profile of an Italian novelist and prosecutor in the most recent New Yorker describes its subject like this:
“Carofiglio, a handsome man, has a five-o’clock shadow, a leftover suntan, and a hairline like Eliot Spitzer’s.”
And you know exactly what the writer means.