On my wedding day, my stepmom tipped back a full glass of red wine and poured it straight down the front of my $15,000 dress, then laughed into the microphone: “Oops, now you match your mother’s fate.”
The autumn air in Boston usually carries the crisp scent of turning leaves and the salty tang of the Atlantic, but on October 15th, inside the gilded confines of the Grand Plaza Hotel, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of $30,000 worth of white orchids and the stifling aroma of ancient, unearned arrogance. I … Read more