The audacity of models
Manhattan is lousy with models. It has more of these lank, willowy creatures per capita than any other city in the world. There is no model census, of course, but they’re everywhere, lovely, graceful vermin who wear what you can’t.
If you’re going to buy coffee in Dean & Deluca in SoHo, or ride the elevators in the Conde Nast building, as I have for many tortuous years, well, all you can do is pull in your tummy, wish you were carrying your gym clothes in a designer sport tote instead of a ripped plastic supermarket bag and try to appear appear as if you’re not staring. I’m willing to accept this momentary discomfort as the price of getting to live in a city as exciting and diverse as mine. (more…)
