Paris is a city with a peculiar gift for producing two kinds of illusion. One is called love. The other is called class.
Many women believe that what they want is a rich man. But more often than not, what truly stirs them is not money itself, but what money seems to promise: safety, dignity, freedom of choice, and the faint, beguiling sense that life might, at last, handle them gently. Yet a man with money is not necessarily a man you can rely on. A man who moves easily through elegant rooms is not necessarily a man of substance. A man willing to pay for dinner is not necessarily a man willing to shoulder responsibility.This is not a book about pleasing men. Nor is it a manifesto urging women to use marriage as a ladder into another class. It is a book of observation-about wealth, desire, class, and intimacy. It tries to answer a number of questions that are deeply practical, though often dressed up in prettier clothes: What kind of man can truly be called wealthy? Where does his money usually come from? Why is he drawn to one kind of woman, yet wary of another? What is the mistake a woman is most likely to make when she enters a high-net-worth social world? And beyond all that, what must a truly clear-headed woman cultivate within herself?To understand rich men is not to depend on them. It is simply to avoid being dazzled by their money and the glow that seems to gather around it.The most dignified way for a woman to live has never been to be chosen by someone else. It is to stand before wealth, power, and desire-and still remain firmly her own.
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