evidence: Ivanka and I hung out occasionally at first. I got a last-minute invite to her 13th birthday party, where about 15 of us caravanned to Atlantic City in a trio of limos and camped out in the penthouse suite of the Taj Mahal for the weekend under the supervision of two wary members of her dad’s security team. She called me to pose in a photo spread for Sassy magazine because none of her usual group was available. I remember swinging by her dad’s office at Trump Tower so she could borrow his credit card to go shopping. When we were not in our uniforms, the look was baby tees and Carpenters from Urban Outfitters; floral, boudoir numbers from Betsey Johnson for the interschool Goddard Gaieties dances, or the sixth floor of Barneys if we were splurging.