CERTAIN WONDERS YOU can appreciate only once you've seen them with your own eyes. In a Manhattan courtroom on January 11, I spent three hours observing the back of Donald Trump's head. I've seen him many times but never so close, with him so still, for so long. His lawyers were giving their closing arguments in a civil-fraud lawsuit, making their fine legal points and plumping their client's savvy and net worth. ("President Trump is worth billions ...") But I couldn't stop staring at Trump's pinkish scalp. His famous sallow blond comb-over, thinner than it once was, started as a part on the left and flowed like a river eastbound and down until it merged with another cataract of hair cascading behind his opposite ear. Little tufts sprayed off the sides and stuck out over his bunched-up jacket collar. The former president was hunched forward, elbows on the table. You didn't need to see his face to know he was glowering.
The civil case, brought by the office of New York State attorney general Letitia James, should have been a humiliation for Trump. It strikes at his business, his family, and the heart of his original identity as a real-estate tycoon. Yet at a crucial juncture in the race for the Republican nomination, he decided to pull himself away from the campaign. Trump was complaining that his many trials were keeping him off the trail, but in fact his attendance at this closing argument was not required. He was perfectly willing to sit through the undignified process.
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Sign In
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
Trapped in Time
A woman relives the same day in a stunning Danish novel.
Polyphonic City
A SOFT, SHIMMERING beauty permeates the images of Mumbai that open Payal Kapadia's All We Imagine As Light. For all the nighttime bustle on display-the heave of people, the constant activity and chaos-Kapadia shoots with a flair for the illusory.
Lear at the Fountain of Youth
Kenneth Branagh's production is nipped, tucked, and facile.
A Belfast Lad Goes Home
After playing some iconic Americans, Anthony Boyle is a beloved IRA commander in a riveting new series about the Troubles.
The Pluck of the Irish
Artists from the Indiana-size island continue to dominate popular culture. Online, they've gained a rep as the \"good Europeans.\"
Houston's on Houston
The Corner Store is like an upscale chain for downtown scene-chasers.
A Brownstone That's Pink Inside
Artist Vivian Reiss's Murray Hill house of whimsy.
These Jeans Made Me Gay
The Citizens of Humanity Horseshoe pants complete my queer style.
Manic, STONED, Throttle, No Brakes
Less than six months after her Gagosian sölu show, the artist JAMIAN JULIANO-VILLAND lost her gallery and all her money and was preparing for an exhibition with two the biggest living American artists.
WHO EVER THOUGHT THAT BRIGHT PINK MEAT THAT LASTS FOR WEEKS WAS A GOOD IDEA?
Deli Meat Is Rotten
