I was going to write something about fixed book prices in Switzerland, which would have been a little polemical and bordering on a rant. But it's Friday afternoon and I'm translating a publisher's catalogue texts, which always makes my brain go limp.
So look! here! in German Vogue! A warm, fuzzy fluff piece about a German editor, Friederike Schilbach, who is indeed very nice. Apparently, she tends to "sit in the M. Wells diner in Long Island City with a mint lemonade or in Café Gitane on Mott Street with a cup of earl grey," wearing "a Rachel Comey blouse, an À Detacher dress or apricot-coloured summer jeans."
I would appear to be in the wrong profession. No doubt you're feeling that way too right now, dear reader, unless of course you happen to be a literary editor. In which case, enjoy your aniseed and coriander loaf, wherever you may be.