“Trying to cross Fifth Avenue this morning, much as I was this past weekend, I was interrupted by a parade.
“There were all the men, in their khakis and J. Crew shirts—we all know the one, the uniform—marching in time, removing their Ray Bans to dab off some sweat on their way to streamline, strategize, consult, and do their definitely real-sounding jobs.
“Before I knew it, the women had joined them, spilling out of SoulCycle and carousing in a cacophonous din, alternatingly sipping their pressed juices and iced coffees before parting ways to their respective homebases—various PR offices in Flatiron.”
Read more at The Daily Beast
