Condé Nast, and by extension Vogue, has since 2015 resided at One World Trade Center, the monstrous gleaming penis that replaced the Twin Towers. As is customary for large media conglomerates, the company signed a 25-year lease—a long time in people years, but in media company years, small potatoes. However, there is a pandemic (have you heard?), and no one in media is working at an office anymore, and so the men in charge are looking to pack their bags and move to New Jersey. This cost-cutting measure means that Anna Wintour, the empress of Vogue, will, at some point, be forced to reverse-commute to New Jersey.
Bloomberg reports that Condé Nast is looking to actually split their office space between the New Jersey waterfront and its Manhattan counterpart. They’re also trying to wiggle out of their 25-year-long lease in order to execute this specific vision. If Condé Nast were to ask my opinion on what to do with their office space once the pandemic is over, I’d say that they don’t really need offices but a place that isn’t home that someone else pays for might be nice. There are many other options! Yurts on a rooftop in Midtown. A suite at the soon-to-open Margaritaville in Times Square. Really, anything works when getting there requires putting on hard pants and leaving the house.
Personally, it matters very little to me where Condé Nast is headquartered but I have to spend 10 to 15 minutes chuckling at the thought of Anna Wintour’s town car pulling up to the exterior of Condé’s Jersey City location, her little Louboutins clacking as she heaves a big sigh, acting as if the long journey across the Hudson to her new work home is the biggest challenge she’s had to face in her professional life.
New Jersey, for the record, is fine! Weed’s legal there. Hoboken’s cute! Maybe Anna can move to Montclair, just to see what all the fuss is about. I’ve heard nice things about Jersey City, depending! Being rude to New Jersey is not my intent, but being rude to Anna Wintour, a woman who probably considers New Jersey to be as bad as all the gals on Sex and the City thought Brooklyn Heights was, certainly is.