Elyse Slaine was wearing studded Louboutin boots, a ruby ring on her right hand, a Harry Winston diamond watch, and drinking a $9 cup of coffee when she met the Observer at the Pierre Hotel recently. "But she did not look happy," the paper's Max Abelson informs us gravely. Why? Last weekend, The Wall Street Journal alleged that her husband, Galleon witness for the prosecution David Slaine, once got in a fistfight on the trading floor over French fries and punched Galleon's co-founder, Gary Rosenbach, in the company steam room. This is incorrect, she says. The French fry thing never happened and her husband never punched Rosenbach, but "merely slapped him." And then, to add injury to insult, just recently:
She returned to her Park Avenue apartment, the co-op she used to share with Mr. Slaine, to find massive flooding. A bathroom pipe had burst. “My own personal tsunami,” she sighed.
Disaster just finds some people, doesn't it? Wait until she finds out that the device she invented (a "charm... that turns into a hook" for women to hang their purses on at restaurants) is already sold at the Container Store. That's going to make her really sad.