In terms of her artistic reputation and legacy, that has been a fatal mistake.
When it finally appeared as a splashy front-page story this past Sunday originally titled , I was off in the woods pursuing my Native American research.
RiRi left nothing to the imagination in an indecent, sheer shmatta decorated with 216,000 Swarovski crystals.
A disembodied hand then shoved a frumpy, gray sweater at the weather babe.
I consider this work probably the most important thing I have ever done—rescuing, identifying, and preserving the fragments of a vanished culture that was once everywhere around us.
Blame for this fiasco falls squarely upon the New York Times editors who delegated to two far too young journalists, Michael Barbaro and Megan Twohey, the complex task of probing the glitzy, exhibitionistic world of late-twentieth-century beauty pageants, gambling casinos, strip clubs, and luxury resorts.