got spayed。 I was supposed to pick her up； but Miranda just called
and told me to pick the twins up early from school so they can all
head out to the Hamptons。”
“You’re joking。 I have to pick up a fuckingdog with this Porsche？
Without crashing？ It’snever going to happen 。”
“She’s at the East Side Animal Hospital； on Fifty…second between
First and Second。 Sorry； Andy； I have to get the girls now； but call
if there’s anything I can do； OK？”
Maneuvering the green beast to head uptown sapped my last reserves
of concentration； and by the time I reached Second Avenue； the
stress sent my body into meltdown。It couldn’t possibly get worse
than this； I thought as yet another cab came within a quarter…inch
of the back bumper。 A nick anywhere on the car would guarantee I
lose my job—that much was obvious—but it just might cost me my life
as well。 Since there was obviously not a parking spot； legal or
otherwise； in the middle of the day； I called the vet’s office from
outside and asked them to bring Madelaine to me。 A kindly woman
emerged a few minutes later （just enough time for me to field
another call from Miranda； this one asking why I wasn’t back at the
office yet） with a whimpering； sniffling puppy。 The woman showed me
Madelaine’s stitched…up belly and told me to drive very； very
carefully because the dog was “experiencing some disfort。” Right；
lady。 I’m driving very； very carefully solely to save my job and
possibly my life—if the dog benefits from this； it’s just a bonus。
With Madelaine curled up on the passenger seat； I lit another
cigarette and rubbed my freezing bare feet so my toes could resume
gripping the clutch and brake pedal。Clutch； gas； shift； release
clutch； I chanted； trying to ignore the dog’s pitiful howls every
time I accelerated。 She alternated between crying； whining； and
snorting。 By the time we reached Miranda’s building； the pup was
nearly hysterical。 I tried to soothe her； but she could sense my
insincerity—and besides； I had no free hands with which to offer a
reassuring pat or nuzzle。 So this was what four years of diagramming
and deconstructing books； plays； short stories； and poems were for：
a chance to fort a small； white； batlike bulldog while trying not
to demolish someone else’s really； really expensive car。 Sweet life。
Just as I had always dreamed。
I managed to dump the car at the garage and the dog with Miranda’s
doorman without further incident； but my hands were still shaking
when I climbed into the chauffeured Town Car that had been following
me all over town。 The driver looked at me sympathetically and made
some supportive ment about the difficulty of stick shifts； but I
didn’t feel much like chatting。
“Just heading back to the Elias…Clark building；” I said with a long
sigh as the driver pulled around the block and headed south on Park
Avenue。 Since I rode the route every day—sometimes twice—I knew I
had exactly eight minutes to breathe and collect myself and possibly
even figure out a way to disguise the ash and sweat stains that had
bee permanent features on the Gucci suede。 The shoes—well； those
were beyond hope； at least until they could be fixed by the fleet of
shoemakersRunway kept for such emergencies。 The ride was actually
over in six and a half minutes； and I had no choice but to hobble
like an off…balance giraffe on my one flat； one four…inch heel
arrangement。 A quick stop in the Closet turned up a brand…new pair
of knee…high maroon…colored Jimmy Choos that looked great with the
leather skirt I grabbed； tossing the suede pants in the “Couture
Cleaning” pile （where the basic prices for dry cleaning started at
seventy…five dollars per item）。 The only stop left was a quick visit
to the Beauty Closet； where one of the editors there took one look
at my sweat…streaked makeup and whipped out a trunk full of fixers。
Not bad；I thought； looking in one of the omnipresent full…length
mirrors。 You might not even know that mere minutes before I was
hovering precariously close to murdering myself and everyone around
me。 I strolled confidently into the assistants’ suite outside
Miranda’s office and quietly took my seat； looking forward to a few
free minutes before she returned from lunch。
“And…re…ah；” she called from her starkly furnished； deliberately
cold office。 “Where are the car and the puppy？”
I leaped out of my seat and ran as fast as was possible on plush
carpeting while wearing five…inch heels and stood before her desk。
“I left the car with the garage attendant and Madelaine with your
doorman； Miranda；” I said； proud to have pleted both tasks
without killing the car； the dog； or myself。
“And why would you do something like that？” she snarled； looking up
from her copy ofWomen’s Wear Daily for the first time since I’d
walked in。 “I specifically requested that you bring both of them to
the office； since the girls will be here momentarily and we need to
leave。”
“Oh； well； actually； I thought you said that you wanted them to—”
“Enough。 The details of your inpetence interest me very little。
Go get the car and the puppy and bring them here。 I’m expecting
we’ll be all ready to leave in fifteen minutes。 Understood？”
Fifteen minutes？ Was this woman hallucinating？ It would take a
minute or two to get downstairs and into a Town Car； another six or
eight to get to her apartment； and then somewhere in the vicinity of
three hours for me to find the puppy in her eighteen…room apartment；
extract the bucking stick shift from its parking spot； and make my
way the twenty blocks to the office。
“Of course； Miranda。 Fifteen minutes。”
I started shaking again the moment I ran out of her office；
wondering if my heart could just up and give out at the ripe old age
of twenty…three。 The first cigarette I lit landed directly on the
top of my new Jimmys； where instead of falling to the cement it
smoldered for just long enough to burn a small； neat hole。Great； I
muttered。That’s just fucking great。 Chalk up my total as an even
four grand for today’s ruined merchandise—a new personal best。 Maybe
she’d die before I got back； I thought； deciding that now was the
time to look on the bright side。 Maybe； just maybe； she’d keel over
from something rare and exotic and we’d all be released from her
wellspring of misery。 I relished a last drag before stamping out the
cigarette and told myself to be rational。You don’t want her to die；
I thought； stretching out in the backseat。Because if she does； you
lose all hope of killing her yourself。 And thatwould be a shame。
2
I knew nothing when I went for my first interview and stepped onto
the infamous Elias…Clark elevators； those transporters of all
thingsen vogue 。 I had no idea that the city’s most well…connected
gossip columnists and socialites and media executives obsessed over
the flawlessly made…up； turned…out； turned…in riders of those sleek
and quiet lifts。 I had never seen women with such radiant blond
hair； didn’t know that those brand…name highlights cost six grand a
year to maintain or that others in the know could identify the
colorists after a quick glance at the finished product。 I had never
laid eyes on such beautiful men。 They were perfectly toned—not too
muscular because “that’snot sexy”—and they showed off their lifelong
dedication to gymwork in finely ribbed turtlenecks and tight leather
pants。 Bags and shoes I’d never seen on real people shoutedPrada！
Armani！ Versace！ from every surface。 I had heard from a friend of a
friend—an editorial assistant atChic magazine—that every now and
then the accessories get to meet their makers in those very
elevators； a touching reunion where Miuccia； Giorgio； or Donatella
can once again admire their summer ’02 stilettos or their spring
couture teardrop bag in person。 I knew things were changing for me—I
just wasn’t sure it was for the better。
I had； until this point； spent the past twenty…three years embodying
small…town America。 My entire existence was a perfect cliché。
Growing up in Avon； Connecticut； had meant high school sports； youth
group meetings； “drinking parties” at nice suburban ranch Homes when
the parents were away。 We wore sweatpants to school； jeans for
Saturday night； ruffled puffiness for semiformal dances。 And
college！ Well； that was a world of sophistication after high school。
Brown had provided endless activities and classes and groups for
every imaginable type of artist； misfit； and puter geek。 Whatever
intellectual or creative interest I wanted to pursue； regardless of
how esoteric or unpopular it may have been； had some sort of outlet
at Brown。 High fashion was perhaps the single exception to this
widely bragged…about fact。 Four years spent muddling around
Providence in fleeces and hiking boots； learning about the French
impressionists； and writing obnoxiously long…winded English papers
did not—in any conceivable way—prepare me for my very first
postcollege job。
I managed to put it off as long as possible。 For the three months
following graduation； I’d scrounged together what little cash I
could find and took off on a solo trip。 I did Europe by train for a
month； spending much more time on beaches than in museums； and
didn’t do a very good job of keeping in touch with anyone back Home
except Alex； my boyfriend of three years。 He knew that after the
five weeks or so I was starting to get lonely； and since his Teach
for America training had just ended and he had the rest of the
summer to kill before starting in September； he surprised me in
Amsterdam。 I’d covered most of Europe by then and he’d traveled the
summer before； so after a not…so…sober afternoon at one of the
Coffee shops； we pooled our traveler’s checks and bought two one…way
tickets to Bangkok。
Together we worked our way through much of Southeast Asia； rarely
spending more than 10 a day； and talked obsessively about our
futures。 He was so excited to start teaching English at one of the
city’s underprivileged schools； totally taken with the idea of
shaping young minds and mentoring the poorest and the most
neglected； in the way that only Alex could be。 My goals were not so
lofty： I was intent on finding a job in magazine publishing。
Although I knew it was highly unlikely I’d get hired atThe New
Yorker directly out of school； I was determined to be writing for
them before my fifth reunion。 It was all I’d eve