This is all you need to know about me and food … Every day I have my house manager, Hershey — who I stole from the Mercer Hotel with André Balazs’s blessing — wake me up with a hot washcloth for my face, a leg rub, and a plate of toast soldiers. Then someone always gets chicken potpie and potato salad from D.D., you know, Dean & Deluca. If I can’t afford D.D., I just don’t eat. Keep reading »
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