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mind； a real challenge—a challenge because I was an imposter； and
not a very good one at that。 I had known the minute I stepped on
theRunway floor that I didn’t belong。 My clothes and hair were wrong
for sure； but more glaringly out of place was my attitude。 I didn’t
know anything about fashion and I didn’tcare 。 At all。 And
therefore； I had to have it。 Besides； a million girls would die for
this job。
I continued to answer her questions about myself with a
forthrightness and confidence that surprised me。 There wasn’t time
to be intimidated。 After all； she seemed pleasant enough and I；
amazingly； knew nothing to the contrary。 We stumbled a bit when she
inquired about any foreign languages I spoke。 When I told her I knew
Hebrew； she paused； pushed her palms flat on her desk and said
icily； “Hebrew？ I was hoping for French； or at least something
moreuseful 。” I almost apologized； but stopped myself。
“Unfortunately； I don’t speak a word of French； but I’m confident it
won’t be a problem。” She clasped her hands back together。
“It says here that you studied at Brown？”
“Yes； I； uh； I was an English major； concentrating on creative
writing。 writing has always been a passion。”So cheesy！ I reprimanded
myself。Did I really have to use the word “passion”？
“So； does your affinity for writing mean that you’re not
particularly interested in fashion？” She took a sip of sparkling
liquid from a glass and set it down quietly。 One quick glance at the
glass showed that she was the kind of woman who could drink without
leaving one of those disgusting lipstick marks。 She would always
have perfectly lined and filled…in lips regardless of the hour。
“Oh no； of course not。 I adore fashion；” I lied rather smoothly。
“I’m looking forward to learning even more about it； since I think
it would be wonderful to write about fashion one day。” Where the
hell had I e up with that one？ This was being an out…of…body
experience。
Things progressed with the same relative ease until she asked her
final question： Which magazines did I read regularly？ I leaned
forward eagerly and began to speak： “Well； I only subscribe toThe
New Yorker andNewsweek； but I regularly readThe Buzz 。
SometimesTime； but it’s dry； andU。S。 News is way too conservative。
Of course； as a guilty pleasure； I’ll skimChic； and since I just
returned from traveling； I read all of the travel magazines and 。 。
。”
“And do you readRunway； Ahn…dre…ah？” she interrupted； leaning over
the desk and peering at me even more intently than before。
It had e so quickly； so unexpectedly； that for the first time
that day I was caught off…guard。 I didn’t lie； and I didn’t
elaborate or even attempt to explain。
“No。”
After perhaps ten seconds of stony silence； she beckoned for Emily
to escort me out。 I knew I had the job。
3
“It sure doesn’t sound like you have the job；” Alex； my boyfriend；
said softly； playing with my hair as I rested my throbbing head in
his lap after the grueling day。 I’d gone straight from the interview
to his apartment in Brooklyn； not wanting to sleep on Lily’s couch
for another night and needing to tell him about everything that had
just happened。 I’d thought about staying there all the time； but I
didn’t want Alex to feel suffocated。 “I don’t even know why you’d
want it。” After a moment or two； he reconsidered。 “Actually； it does
sound like a pretty phenomenal opportunity。 I mean； if this girl
Allison started out as Miranda’s assistant and is now an editor at
the magazine； well； that’d be good enough for me。 Just go for it。”
He was trying so hard to sound really excited for me。 We’d been
dating since our junior year at Brown； and I knew every inflection
of his voice； every look； every signal。 He’d just started a few
weeks earlier at PS 277 in the Bronx and was so worn down he could
barely speak。 Even though his kids were only nine years old； he’d
been disappointed to see how jaded and cynical they already were。 He
was disgusted that they all spoke freely about blow jobs； knew ten
different slang words for pot； and loved to brag about the stuff
they stole or whose cousin was currently residing in a tougher jail。
“Prison connoisseurs；” Alex had taken to calling them。 “They could
write a book on the subtle advantages of Sing Sing over Rikers； but
they can’t read a word of the English language。” He was trying to
figure out how he could make a difference。
I slid my hand under his T…shirt and started to scratch his back。
Poor thing looked so miserable that I felt guilty bothering him with
the details of the interview； but I just had to talk about it with
someone。 “I know。 I understand that there wouldn’t be anything
editorial about the job whatsoever； but I’m sure I’ll be able to do
some writing after a few months；” I said。 “You don’t think it’s
pletely selling out to work at afashion magazine； do you？”
He squeezed my arm and lay down next to me。 “Baby； you’re a
brilliant； wonderful writer； and I know you’ll be fantastic
anywhere。 And of course it’s not selling out。 It’s paying your dues。
You’re saying that if you put in a year atRunway you’ll save
yourself three more years of bullshit assistant work somewhere
else？”
I nodded。 “That’s what Emily and Allison said； that it was an
automatic quid pro quo。 Work a year for Miranda and don’t get fired；
and she’ll make a call and get you a job anywhere you want。”
“Then how could you not？ Seriously； Andy； you’ll work your year and
you’ll get a job atThe New Yorker 。 It’s what you’ve always wanted！
And it sure sounds like you’ll get there a whole lot faster doing
this than anything else。”
“You’re right； you�