Unintelligible, lamedropping-addicted "blahg" PXthis has an intriguing anecdote today concerning the travails of one "leigh-haber," who we wrote about when, in the wake of her promotion to head of her own imprint at Rodale, Page Six called her "the new Judith Regan." Leigh had an interesting run-in at Waverly Inn last night:

somewhere amidst the bottle of Montagny and the fantastic conversation and the massive pot pies and the jon-bon-jovis and karolina-kurkovas and andre-harrells and graydon-carters and brian-mcnallies and eric-goodes and sean-macphersons and jimmy-mccaffreys etc etc etc i tap leigh-haber on the elbow and declare, "hey look it's nick-denton."
leigh-haber takes one glance at nick-denton and responds, "oh. hmm. should i say something?" and before i even have a chance to completely execute my shrug, leigh-haber is out of her seat and across the room ohmygoodness i was so fucking proud of her she's like totally my hero.
apparently leigh-haber said to nick-denton [right there in front of his entire dinner party-of-six GO GIRL]: "y'know last week i was promoted (because i worked my ass off and i'm finally getting some dues) and it should have been a nice day for me, but instead of feeling good about it, i had to feel miserable, because i was both promoted and eviscerated on the very same day, by a bunch of people who have absolutely no inkling who i am."
[or something like that, i admit i'm paraphrasing but i know the word "eviscerate" was definitely in there.]

Eviscerated? Oh, Leigh. If you could only see some of the tips we received but, out of basic human decency, chose not to run. Oh, wait! You totally can:

The Leigh-Judith comparison is surprisingly apt. When I was Leigh's assistant she was, like Judith, paranoid, narcissistic, a screamer, and given to indiscreet affairs with colleagues, including one whose wife was dying of cancer. She also had a major alcohol problem and would come back from lunch reeking of chardonnay—curiously, when she was drunk at the office was the one time she was ever actually nice to me. She also used to make me get her coffee every morning from a deli near the office—but would never reimburse me. It was $1.03 every day. I was making $20k a year—I couldn't afford coffee for myself!

There's more, but we think we'll save it for when you bump into Lockhart Steele at Soho House.

Thu 01/18 [PX This.]
Earlier: Conspiracy Theories Grab Bag: Leigh Haber Random Reacharound Edition