I found Conde Nast’s gravestone

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.

IMG_5002
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.

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3 responses to “I found Conde Nast’s gravestone

  1. Public Road,
    I am going to miss thee.

  2. Ruth, I’m really hoping you write an Epilogue at some point. I want to read your reflections on that great American public road. Was it all you hoped it would be or expected? Did it let you down? Were you ready to be done with it? How did it affect you? Etc.

    And…. Modern Bride?????!!!!! Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
    Speaking of… it’s apparently the in thing now to have your wedding pictures taken on traffic islands on Michigan Avenue. Saw two of them Saturday night within a magnificent mile of each other: entire wedding parties crammed onto 3-ft. wide strips of concrete, primping and beaming. Man, I was hoping for a huge puddle.

  3. My home was the only spot on your giant map where the black yarn intersected!

    Of course:

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