A few years ago, I found myself at the Barneys department store in Beverly Hills on Dec. 24, wandering around on the men’s floor. It was almost closing time, and there was something depressing about being at Barneys at dusk on the night before Christmas. The store was empty, almost ghost-like, except for another shopper, who looked like he could be related to Leonardo DiCaprio
, scanning a rack of winter jackets. As I reached for the price tag of a shirt, my arm bushed against the stranger’s.
“Oops,” I apologized. The DiCaprio clone didn’t respond or look up, but he exhaled a puff of smoke from a vape pen.
Oh my god! This was the real DiCaprio.
Suddenly, my random shopping excursion didn’t seem so dull. Why was DiCaprio at Barneys on Christmas Eve? It looked like he was preparing for some winter snow trip, and instead