She has the perfect proportions-five feet eleven, 125 pounds-and great boobs, which is no trivial matter. (Melania has said the key to the success of her marriage is separate bathrooms.) He can trust her to take her birth control every day, he boasted to Stern she’s just amazing that way. He’s never heard her fart or make doodie, as he once told Howard Stern. “I don’t want to go home and work at a relationship.” To the twice-divorced Donald, Melania is terrific. “I work very hard from early in the morning till late in the evening,” Donald told Larry King in 2005. Melania is as fastidious a wife as she is a mother, which Donald appreciates. “He’s not a sweatpants child,” she’s said. “I didn’t want him to change the diapers or put Barron to bed.” The boy she calls “little Donald” wants one day to be a “businessman and golfer” and, as she told the publication, almost always dresses in suits. “We know our roles,” Melania once told, referring to the division of labor with her husband. While Melania enjoys the services of a chef and an assistant, there’s no nanny raising their son, Barron. In one of her last posts-right before somebody deemed it advisable to slam shut this opulent little window on her life-she snapped a parting selfie in a gold-mirrored bathroom. There she was, relaxing at “#home #NYC” on a Thursday night, in a room that looked like a fevered baroque dream. Here she was, head to toe in white, posing on the Trump jet.
There was Melania in a white robe, working with her “glam team” of stylists, perched on a gilded throne, overlooking Central Park.
Melania had signed up for a life of conspicuous conspicuousness, one she dutifully chronicled on Instagram and Twitter up until about a year ago, when her social-media accounts-unlike those of her husband-went silent with Trump’s entrance into the race. But unlike Jackie, who met John Kennedy when he was already a congressman, Melania wasn’t signing on to be a political spouse when she met the notorious Donald Trump in 1998. “She’d be great at picking out the china patterns she’d be a classic First Lady,” says stylist Phillip Bloch, who has worked with both of the Trumps and attended fashion shows with Melania. Those who know Melania say the Jackie template isn’t a bad one for her to aspire to. “It’s all business now it’s nothing personal.” “This is it, what it is,” Melania tells me. And you can think, as Melania Trump says she does, that it’s no huge deal, really. But things change quickly-which is perhaps the enduring fact of Melania Trump’s entire improbable life-and when your husband works up a plan to make America great again, the very same Clintons you once smiled with on your wedding day can now become your family’s mortal enemies. A pair of ordinary people, really, uniting in matrimony in the presence of Rudy Giuliani and Kelly Ripa, as Billy Joel serenaded the couple and guests slurped caviar and Cristal in the shadow of a five-foot-tall Grand Marnier wedding cake.
He in a tux she in a $100,000 Dior dress that laborers’ hands had toiled upon for a legendary 550 hours, affixing 1,500 crystals-jewels fit for private citizens like them. Just two private citizens getting hitched at the groom’s 126-room Florida palace. “When they went to our wedding, we were private citizens,” Melania reminds me. “It was completely different than it is now,” Melania Trump tells me, recalling those bygone days of sanity, speaking in her now famous accent, a kind of dreamy Transylvanian.īack then, in 2005, it didn’t seem odd that she and Donald Trump would mark their happy occasion with the former president and First Lady, then a senator from New York. Once upon a time, a man could marry his Slovenian sweetheart, invite Bill and Hillary Clinton to the lavish wedding, and only the society pages would bother with it.
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