![]() ![]() As a child, writing a book was a dream of hers, though she gave up on the idea after having one of her pieces read out loud by a middle school English teacher and mocked by her classmates. Over spring rolls and pad thai, Fox says she wrote the book in a “vortex,” on the two days a week when her ex, Peter Artemiev, has custody of Valentino. In October, Fox will be donning another hat: that of a memoirist with the release of her book, Down the Drain. (She looks fucking incredible, and, no, much like everything else Fox wears, you cannot pull it off.) When I meet her, she is quite literally wearing one - a baseball cap from Diesel, paired with ruffled white shorts, bejeweled flats from Dsquared2, and a T-shirt of three Middle Eastern female bodybuilders, her hair dyed a vibrant shade of puce. She is a woman who wears many hats: model actor muse to Josh Safdie in Uncut Jahhms, per the infamous viral clip influencer former paramour and Carbone dining partner to the world’s most famous rapper-slash-anti-Semite and mom to two-and-a-half-year-old son Valentino, whom she will pick up from day care shortly. R&R does not come easily to Fox these days. “I want you to have a great massage experience,” she says. She’s amused by my prudery, but understanding. ![]() ![]() I had worn the one-piece to make Fox feel comfortable - but also, having recently seen Fox in a see-through glass bustier at Cannes, and having had a kid within the past year, it struck me as borderline masochistic to be naked in front of her. “How are they gonna touch your back through your bathing suit?” “Wait, babe, you have to take off the thing,” she says in her signature drawl, a hybrid of Drew Barrymore’s SoCal lilt and deadpan alt-left podcast-host vocal fry. And about a minute and a half after I meet her, right before we’re about to get massages, she gestures at me to take my bathing suit top off. We’re wearing fluffy terry-cloth robes there are rose petals inexplicably strewn all over a bubble bath, which neither of us will get into. We’re in the dimly lit VIP suite at Body by Brooklyn, a spa inconspicuously tucked under the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway in Clinton Hill. I am on a date with Julia Fox - at least, that’s what it feels like. ![]()
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