The Daily Beast
Photo Illustration by Eric Faison/The Daily Beast/House Oversight Committee To every situation— every situation—Epstein came with multiple girls . They surrounded him like a mist of cologne. There but not there; part and parcel; the background music. In his house , the girls were a familiar, operational, white-noise presence. They seemed to dart about at the corner of your eye; to move with purpose and efficiency, though doing what exactly wasn’t clear. I never heard anyone mention the girls, not to ask who they were, why they were there, or what the implications might be. If you didn’t want to see it, you didn’t have to. Once, my wife and I ran into Epstein in Paris . There he was, bobbing in the Ritz swimming pool with three girls . The next day, we joined him and his entourage for a private tour of the Opéra Garnier. The girls, the curiosity, the wisecracks, the exclusive access —Epstein himself was a kind of production. He was the show. It occurs to me now that because you were always watching him, you were always at a distance from him. It wasn’t real. It was all staged for you. Click through and subscribe to Michael Wolff’s HOWL for more of his unparalleled insight into Epstein’s world, and the “Epstein Diaries” series in full. Read it at Substack Read more at The Daily Beast.
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