THE ATLANTIC OCTOBER 2019 85family business. Later, Ivanka
would recall with pride how her
dad interrupted impor tant meet-
ings to talk to her: “He’d always
take my call.”sj å©j* ≰≵, ≱≩≰≴, IVANKA
strode across a dais in the atrium
of Trump Tower and beamed out
at the crowd. “Welcome, every-
body,” she said, a glint of amuse-
ment in her voice. “Today, I have
the honor of introducing a man
who needs no introduction.”
That Donald Trump had cho-
sen Ivanka to feature so promi-
nently at his campaign kickoff
seemed natural. He’d been groom-
ing her for years to take over the
family empire. She was the golden
child—beautiful, telegenic, and in
possession of that most important
family trait: a compulsive image-
consciousness.
According to an aide who
helped launch Trump’s presiden-
tial bid, Ivanka was the one child
for whom he voiced concern while
he was deciding whether to run. “I
know they’re gonna go after me
for the women,” Trump told the
aide. “The problem is, they’re
gonna go after Ivanka, too, for
the ex-boyfriends.” His daugh-
ter’s romantic history included a
succession of problematic exes—
from Lance Armstrong to James
“Bingo” Gubelmann, a D-list film
producer who would later be
arrested on cocaine charges with
Maroon 5’s bassist.
Ivanka had a brand to protect, something Trump
under stood. She’d been tending to her image since
she was a teenager— carefully evolving the Ivanka
persona from party-girl socialite to lean-in lifestyle
guru. She had her own fashion line and a flagship bou-
tique in SoHo. Alongside Jared— another real-estate
scion—she had wedged herself into Upper East Side
society, earning invites to exclusive charity functions
and a cameo on Gossip Girl.
Ivanka may not have thought her father could win
the presidency, but she chose to treat the campaign as
a brand-enhancement vehicle. She posed for glossy
magazines, and sat for soft-focus interviews on Good
Morning America. After speaking at the Republican
National Convention, she served her Twitter follow-
ers a link to the pink sheath dress she’d worn onstage
and encouraged them to “shop Ivanka’s look.” The
dress sold out within 24 hours, a sign of the broader
strategy’s success: In the first half of 2016, Fast Com-
pany reported, net sales at her clothing line were up
nearly $12 million.Navigating the campaign this way required finesse. Ivanka kept her dis-
tance from the uncouth rallies in places like Reno, Neva da, and Toledo, Ohio.
While Trump riled up the country with Muslim-ban proposals and Mexican-
rapist panics, she perched herself on a higher plane, where she just wanted
to talk about the issues that really mattered to her, like affordable child care
and the gender pay gap. Campaign staffers grumbled that Ivanka’s policy
preferences were more closely aligned with Aspen weekenders than Rust
Belt voters. “People started to realize this wasn’t about Trump’s vision,” one
former aide told me. “It was about Ivanka’s ability to feel comfortable in her
New York circle.”
But few were willing to challenge her. Rumors swirled that a state-level
staffer had been fired after displeasing Ivanka. True or not—a spokesperson
for Ivanka declined to comment—the story reinforced an impression that
the candidate’s favorite child was untouchable. “It all felt very Tudor,” said
the former aide. “Aside from whispers in the bathroom, nobody would dare
say anything bad about Ivanka. It was the kind of thing that would get you
tarred and feathered.”
While Ivanka soaked up the spotlight, Don was consigned to the margins
of the campaign. The two had long been a study in contrasts. Where she whis-
pered, he shouted; where she was careful, he was reckless. Unlike Ivanka—who
NO couldn’t wait to follow her dad into real estate— Don had taken a more leisurely
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Donald Trump with his three oldest children and his then-wife, Ivana, in 1988