“I could show up with a manicure, a blowout, possibly even professional makeup, and still have regretted not making time for the eyebrow wax and oxygen facial. There was simply no way to ever feel polished enough”
The Four Seasons. Photo: Chris Goodney/Bloomberg via Getty Images Back in my former, fancy life as the editor-in-chief of a Condé Nast fashion magazine, I spent a lot of time putting in command performances. Mostly they had to do with advertisers: lunching with them, accompanying them to black ties at the Waldorf , meeting with their offspring to discuss internships, which were always theirs for the asking.
The golden ring, of course, was a seat at Si’s table. The other two key tables were Steve Florio’s — he was the CEO — and editorial director James Truman’s. A place with one of the other top 11th-floor guys was nothing to be ashamed of for all but the most pathologically competitive among us. Anywhere in the front half of the room, really, was reason to not fear for your livelihood.
I had plenty of clothes, but they were the wrong clothes. I relied far too heavily on the color black, which was viewed upon by upper-tier fashion editors as a sign of weakness and lack of imagination. I was allergic to belts and other finishing touches. I preferred a big flat boot to a sharp high one, a cardigan over a jacket, and a pair of dark tights over bare legs .
This was one tough room — I always felt a distinct spirit of exclusion the moment I walked in the door. I could remind myself in advance of the handful of other editors I actually liked and would make a point of seeking them out, and that there were other corporate types who could be relied upon to fill a few anxiety-neutral minutes.
Eventually I slunk off to the shower and got on with things.
By the time I got to the 43rd Street entrance there were only a few town cars left. Everyone was either on their way over or already there. Most years, I aimed to time my arrival for the last 15 minutes of cocktail hour — just respectful enough, not a second longer — but I was pushing it today.
I felt punchy with fear and excitement. This was a very good moment, a very big moment, and certainly one I’d never banked on having any version of, even five years ago. How weird life was! I might have hated the holiday lunch, but I knew what an honor it was to have made it to this room; what it meant to have been given this magazine. What a wild thing it was that Lucky was such a success.
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