The Moment: at the opening of his Toronto tower, the Donald was his spectacular self
Speakers at the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the Trump Tower at the intersection of Bay and Adelaide tossed around the word “luxury” so repeatedly that a simple advisory stating, “No corners were cut during the making of this building” could’ve saved everybody a whole lot of time. A procession of two goose-stepping police officers and a bagpiper kicked things off, and then Donald Trump and his three eldest tycoons-in-training—Ivanka, Donald Jr. and Eric—entered the 10th-floor ballroom to a lightning storm of camera flashes. Various stakeholders took turns delivering versions of the same speech (“We worked hard”; “We never gave up when the economy tanked”). Then, to the exultant strains of timpani and trumpets, four porcelain-faced models strode forward carrying golden scissors on shining silver trays, which they presented to Trump and Co., who cut the ribbon to a burst of applause and more flashing. It was the purest distillation of the Trump brand—gaudy, pushy, expensive and unapologetic.