Epstein Secrets

gner gowns and work at break neck speed styling while we wildly strip to our undies in a makeshift dressing area. Ellen pours me into a black tulle Marchesa with a enormous wired silver bow. Twenty hairdressers and make- up artists systematically work on 250 extras. A mile of tables are alternately filled

que Van Vooren, both in their 80s, are seated in front of the fireplace chatting in French. Production assistants fuss over them. Debonair macho man Chuck Pfieffer, who appeared in the original film, and I immediately invent a back story—I am his corporate wife—and we position ourselves on a couch next to the

gner gowns and work at break neck speed styling while we wildly strip to our undies in a makeshift dressing area. Ellen pours me into a black tulle Marchesa with a enormous wired silver bow. Twenty hairdressers and make-up artists systematically work on 250 extras. A mile of tables are alternately filled

que Van Voorcn, both in their 80s, arc seated in front of the fireplace chatting in French. Production assistants fuss over them. Debonair macho man Chuck Pfieffer, who appeared in the original film, and I immediately invent a back story—I am his corporate wife—and we position ourselves on a couch next to the d

gner gowns and work at break neck speed styling while we wildly strip to our undies in a makeshift dressing area. Ellen pours me into a black tulle Marchesa with a wired silver bow. Twenty hairdressers and make-up artists systematically work on 250 extras. A mile of tables are alternately filled with ste

nd her friend Monique Van Vooren, both in their 80s, are seated in front of the fireplace. Production assistants fuss over them. Debonair macho man Chuck Pfieffer, who appeared in the original film, and I immediately invent a back story—I am his corporate wife—and we position ourselves on a couch next to the d

ique Van Vooren, both in their 80s, are seated in front of the fireplace chatting in French. Production assistants fuss over them. Debonair macho man Chuck Pfieffer, who appeared in the original film, and I immediately invent a back story—I am his corporate wife—and we position ourselves on a couch next to the di

signer gowns and work at break neck speed styling while we wildly strip to our undies in a makeshift dressing area. Ellen pours me into a black tulle Marchesa with a enormous wired silver bow. Twenty hairdressers and make- up artists systematically work on 250 extras. A mile of tables are alternately filled

ique Van Vooren, both in their 80s, are seated in front of the fireplace chatting in French. Production assistants fuss over them. Debonair macho man Chuck Pfieffer, who appeared in the original film, and I immediately invent a back story—I am his corporate wife—and we position ourselves on a couch next to the di

signer gowns and work at break neck speed styling while we wildly strip to our undies in a makeshift dressing area. Ellen pours me into a black tulle Marchesa with a enormous wired silver bow. Twenty hairdressers and make-up artists systematically work on 250 extras. A mile of tables are alternately filled

ique Van Vooren, both in their 80s, are seated in front of the fireplace chatting in French. Production assistants fuss over them. Debonair macho man Chuck Pfieffer, who appeared in the original film, and I immediately invent a back story—I am his corporate wife-and we position ourselves on a couch next to the di

signer gowns and work at break neck speed styling while we wildly strip to our undies in a makeshift dressing area. Ellen pours me into a black tulle Marchesa with a enormous wired silver bow. Twenty hairdressers and make-up artists systematically work on 250 extras. A mile of tables are alternately filled

ique Van Vooren, both in their 80s, are seated in front of the fireplace chatting in French. Production assistants fuss over them. Debonair macho man Chuck Pfieffer, who appeared in the original film, and I immediately invent a back story—I am his corporate wife—and we position ourselves on a couch next to the di

signer gowns and work at break neck speed styling while we wildly strip to our undies in a makeshift dressing area. Ellen pours me into a black tulle Marchesa with a enormous wired silver bow. Twenty hairdressers and make- up artists systematically work on 250 extras. A mile of tables are alternately filled