By
Holly GoNightly
March 21, 2008
“Follow the hip-looking kids,” says I, as we navigate a maze of escalators and booby-trapped hallways (marked down Chanel can be quite a snare). “I feel like we are about to see Tiffany,” my plus-one replies, descending the escalator at Bloomingdale’s. Donald Cumming of the Virgins, oddly enough, feels the same way: “I feel like we’re Tiffany up here.”
