The Shipwreck Rose: Out of Fashion
My rubber-band ball, made entirely from rubber bands, grew bigger every day. It was bigger than a softball, bigger than a grapefruit. It was heavy and perfectly round. I liked to bounce it, like Steve McQueen in “The Great Escape,” off the wall of my first office at Vogue magazine, when I got my start in 1998. Everyone loved Steve McQueen, the 1970s tough guy with cruel lips, in the summer of 1998.
Bam. Pause. Bam.
People often ask me about what life was like at Vogue, back in the Gilded Age before the Millennium, before 9/11, before the collapse of print media.