More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
My mother’s interest in food was strictly academic. Asked what had possessed her to purchase the pig, she replied, “I’d never seen one before,” as if that was an adequate answer.
Now, watching Si shamble through the celebrities at the city’s most expensive trattoria, Da Silvano,
he’d co-founded Spy magazine, where he’d invented wonderfully nasty nicknames for a host of people (Donald Trump was a “short-fingered vulgarian”),
But I did not reckon on the cost, did not know this would mean spending endless hours attending to the business of the magazine. Meetings that had once been held twice a year became monthly affairs, and I grew depressingly familiar with the dreary tenth-floor conference rooms. Struggling with spreadsheets and financial reports, I found myself thinking wistfully back to Truman asking, “You don’t suppose Anna Wintour worries about budgets, do you?”
When all is said and done, that is what makes me
