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Byline: Sally Singer
Last spring, a very rich and
beautiful woman named Nancy Jarecki visited the Vogue offices. She wore a lacy Marc Jacobs jacket and True Religion Brand Jeans and carried a Bottega Veneta tote. After a breakfast of scrambled eggs in a private dining room, she announced that she had a surprise for me and my colleague. "Shut your eyes," she commanded. And we did. For about a minute we listened to various rustling noises. I sneaked a glance through a barely opened eye. "Don't peek, Sally," she said instantly, with a mom's all-knowing, unfoolable firmness. Another minute passed. "Now you can look," she said. We did. Before us was a row of ...