Bravo for Walrus for excoriating this puff of inane wind: “In her May issue editor's letter, ELLE Editor-in-Chief, Robbie Myers, writes: ‘There is something innately regal about Chelsea—a kind of grace that doesn't seem practiced, or trotted out just for public consumption. She's a person of substance for sure, a young woman who, while measured in her manner, has a fierceness of conviction, and a calling to make the world a better place.’"
First of all, I’m sure the most passionate admirer of this prose is the author. I am not sure of very many things in life, but I am quite sure of that. Sunshine beams at her from her parents, her associates, her friends. No sullen cloud would be impertinent enough to cast a shadow over this radiant language, and such dazzling virtuosity. The writer of this is being born aloft by the conviction that she has produced a prose masterpiece.
But has she?