Danielle Ganek's novel, Lulu Meets God and Doubts Him, has repeatedly been described as a Devil Wears Prada for the New York art world. If that's not enough to secure it a place in your beach tote, consider the following excerpt:
One of the new collectors -- no, not hedge fund money, her husband made his cash inventing some kind of toilet-paper dispenser -- Connie in five-inch heels is a moving sight gag as she makes her way down the center aisle, although her seat too would be more easily reached from the side closest to the door.
She waves and kisses, kisses and waves, acknowledging anyone she happens to know. My shoulders hunch reflexively, although I know she won't even glance in the direction of the standing section. Her eyes dart this way and that with the acquisitive gleam of a collector in heat.
Hers is a lumpy body no amount of money can dress up, although she's trying, in what appears to be a mink sweatshirt with a hood. She has lank hair even the man known as the magician with the blow-dryer can't volumize and little eyes made smaller with too much makeup. She wears diamonds by the yard [Lawyer-type query to author: Would that be Elsa Peretti's Diamonds by the Yard, a registered trademark?] roped several times around her neck and a much larger one dangling from her ring finger. Off her arm swings an enormous Hermes Birkin bag in bright blue crocodile. That's one of those bags that cost ten grand at least, if you can get your name on the top of the wait list. The croc is more. This one is so big it looks fake, but Connie doesn't have the confidence to carry a fake.
It seems that a counterfeit handbag is a sign of good character...description.