Last Thursday evening, I got a text from my partner Lauren Sherman that
made me smile. Technically, we were both trying to take a couple late-summer days off before the usual business acceleration on the other side of Labor Day. I was with my family in Bay Head, a beautiful and untouched little beach town along the New Jersey coastline, and she was ensconced in Santa Barbara, overlooking the Pacific. But at 9:48 p.m. she pinged me: “Worth breaking vacation boundaries…” and attached a link to a Daily Mail story detailing the tragic personal and professional
dissolution of Natalie Massenet, the founder of Net-a-Porter and Imaginary Ventures, and Erik Torstensson, also a serial entrepreneur and the co-founder of Frame, the L.A. denim line.
The details of Massenet’s complaint were explosive and horrifying. Massenet accused her former partner of spending more than $95 million on real estate, lifestyle expenses, and
vacations—money that he had promised to “repay … in kind.” Worse, she accused him of essentially being a social climber and grifter, a fashion industry Kato Kaelin who had traded on her name and connections for his own gain. And, yes, there were also plenty of prurient accusations that turned this affair of the heart-and-wallet gone wrong into a veritable tabloid bonfire.
Not only
was this spicy stuff, it was also economically consequential. The couple had inadvisedly intertwined love and commerce in ways that were hard to untangle. To give but one example: Imaginary’s most appreciable investment is a position in Skims, which was started by Torstensson’s current and former business partner in various ventures. (Torstensson has a piece of the company, too.) Massenet’s complaint began with an old but telling quote that Torstensson had given to an L.A. Times
reporter: “Natalie once said, ‘You’re my best investment. I hope.’”
Anyway, Lauren and I are both workaholics, and she wanted a quick gut check to ensure that she shouldn’t break free of her family to put something together for the following day’s issue of Line Sheet, her sui generis private email on the fashion industry. I respected and admired the urge. And under different circumstances, I
might have taken her up on it. But I also knew that, as the authoritative voice of the fashion industry, she didn’t need to weigh in first. Her eventual contribution, whenever she produced it, would become the defining statement on this whole sordid affair. And, frankly, I savored the notion that the entire industry would be salivating in anticipation of the Massenet-Torstensson imbroglio receiving the Lauren Sherman treatment.
On Thursday evening, a full week later, Lauren published her long-awaited Weapons of Massenet Destruction, which elegantly sorted through the personal detritus of the breakup and laid bare the dizzying financial dynamics. Indeed, Massenet released her complaint just as Imaginary was closing a new fund, and while the Skims I.P.O.
chatter continues to hum along at a high octave. And, yes, there were some personal details, too. “Should Massenet have taken the high road and pushed Torstensson privately to pay what she believed was his share of expenses in order for her to maintain their lifestyle?” Lauren wrote. “My understanding, from multiple parties, is that Massenet believed there was no other way forward than the nuclear option, no matter the reverberations. Massenet, a former journalist, may have calculated the impact
of a narrative that reversed the traditional power dynamic: a case in which a towering business visionary, who was bankrolling an exploitative younger bimbo, had run out of patience.” I can’t recommend this piece strongly enough, especially over a long weekend.
But since it is a long weekend, I’ll turn your attention to one more—Bill Cohan’s customarily brilliant piece on Trump’s machinations around the Fed,
Nothing But a Jay Thing. Among other issues, Bill connects Trump’s lust for lower interest rates to the president’s personal stock and bond holdings. Sometimes uncomfortable personal details emerge in a court filing. These days, though, they’re often just sitting there in plain sight. That’s one of the leitmotifs or our
time, and precisely what you should expect to read about in Puck.