A baby seal walked into a club. Just kidding! The baby seal was me. And fine, I didn’t walk into a club, per se — not on that night, anyway. It was the VIP tent of Cirque du Soleil — you know, the famous French Canadian circus show? They’d set up a big, white tent — it sort of looked like a peaky marshmallow — called the Grand Chapiteau on Randall’s Island, which was up on the East River just off Manhattan. Earlier that evening, I’d been picked up at the Condé Nast building in midtown and chauffeured there. For “work.” Read More
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