I Confronted Donald Trump In Dubai by Molly Crabapple

Donald Trump's hair should not be. It sits on his head like a soufflé, both airy and solid, as improbable as any building to which he’s given his name. In Dubai, I get to inspect Trump from all angles. His hair is otherworldly, but his face is more easily dissected. It’s tangerine, save two pale circles around his eyes. Ivanka looks perfect, however. Even when her mouth is a moue of hate.

I am sitting two scant yards from Trump père et fille at a media briefing for the Trump International Golf Course, which is being built by the Emirati firm DAMAC Properties in conjunction with Donald Trump Townhouses and Villas. Trump has promised it will be the greatest golf course in the world. Ivanka is angry because I asked a real question. In Dubai, this can land you in jail.

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“The world has so many problems and so many failures, and you come here and it’s so beautiful,” Trump says. “Why can't we have that in New York?” Trump does not mention that, like Dubai, New York is morphing into the no-place of multi-national capitalism. He does not mention that this is partially his fault.

The floor opens to questions. I stand up. “Mr. Trump,” I ask, “the workers who build your villas make less than $200 a month. Are you satisfied?" The room gasps, then goes silent. The security tenses towards me.

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