They’re everywhere. Exhausted; ragged. Hanging by a thread, really.
Hauled out to the subway, slung over an office chair, shoved into a gym locker, dragged through the grocery store, back on the train, then hung over on a door knob until it’s time to go back out into the world again. They last only a short while before coming apart at the seams from the weight of all they contain.
The New Yorker gets a lot of things right. Tote bags are not one of them.
Most girls these days charge a pretty penny for pictures of their feet. I was prepared to do the same the other day at the office when Paul asked me to model some TRD socks. But when I slipped them on and felt how soft they were, I knew they weren’t just socks. They were a public service.
It was my first pro bono modeling gig. We shot them in the reception area, both of us praying no one would walk out of the elevator and think we were publishing a different kind of magazine.
But we are a different kind of magazine, aren’t we? We’re the kind that can outfit its readers with more than just market insights and real estate intel.
Our standards are high in the newsroom and the fitting room, which is why there’s not a stitch of fabric or a shred of content we’ll sell you that’s anything less than the best. And that’s The Real Deal guarantee.