She betrayed high society and lived in luxury, Anna Sorokin was doomed and became a world star. She’s out of jail now, but what’s she up to? Meeting with an imposter.
Severin Mevissen
Last night the most colorful impostor of our time only slept an hour. Still no bedding. The bedroom door is half open. Two Rimowa suitcases are open on the floor, next to plastic bags full of mail, the remains of a life. On the bed: Anna Sorokin with a bowl of sushi. It could be the scene of a new beginning. Or the end.
An electronic tag keeps her in the five-story brick building in Manhattan, where her parole conditions require her to be here 24 hours a day, with no access to social media. The stairwell is being renovated, the doors to the apartment are coated with plastic film and it smells like paint, plaster and dust. The house looks shabby.
