And so the trip ends as it began: with the decline of Conde Nast.
A big reason I was able to go on this adventure was the fact that I lost my job when Domino magazine folded earlier this. It’s hard to take off on a 76-day vacation when you have a section to put out. Then, during the course of the trip, Conde Nast (Domino’s parent company) folded four more magazines, including the venerable Gourmet and also Domino’s 8th-floor neighbor, Cookie. It’s hard to believe that a year ago we were all together, clawing at Japanese mascara during beauty sales and silently judging each other’s outfits in the coffee room. Then, poof! Well, these things happen. This is just a theory, but I’ve heard that the economy isn’t doing that well, so maybe that had something to do with it?
The point is that today I drove past Conde Nast Publications’ gravestone.
Here lies Condé Nast, right on the Merritt Parkway in Connecticut! House and Garden, RIP. Vogue and Glamour: You’re next? (Unlikely.)
In fact, this is obviously not a gravestone, but is in fact almost certainly a remnant of the company’s former manufacturing plant, located in Greenwich from the 1920s through the 1960s. But still, if one is straining for symmetry, here’s a little piece of it.