Ivanka Trump is enjoying a fecund spring.
Wharton-trained business executive, Manhattan socialite and former model, the statuesque, 29-year-old daughter of Donald (The Donald) Trump jetted into Toronto this week to oversee the final gestational spasms of two new products, both graced with that indelible Trumpean touch.
The first is the Trump International Hotel and Tower Toronto, which falls into Ms. Trump's capacious brief by virtue of her job – executive vice-president of acquisitions and development of the Trump Organization.
A mere two months from its official opening, the much-delayed project promises to set a new standard for unbridled opulence. It joins 10 other hotels that are (or soon will be) part of the family's portfolio. Ms. Trump fondly calls it the "Collection," the way other people might think of their teacups.
Her other Toronto mission was to blow the Trump trumpet for Magnum, a European ice-cream bar making its debut in Canada. Each bar contains up to 29 grams of sugar and 20 grams of fat, but at least you can choose how to harden your arteries, thanks to any one of six delicious varieties covered in Belgian chocolate. Fittingly, our scheduled 15-minute interview lasted less than eight minutes, about the time it takes to consume the product.
When your name alone is deemed a commercial brand, you can lend your imprimatur – or lease it – to almost anything.
In addition to ice cream, Ms. Trump now markets a line of high-end jewellery, footwear and handbags (outerwear coming soon).
Meanwhile, her billionaire father has affixed his distinctive signature to several luxe hotel-condo projects. For these, Mr. Trump is neither owner nor seller (although he does own a minority equity stake in the Toronto Trump Tower). Thus, if they fail to be completed, he is free to walk away, pocketing the licensing fees. In the U.S., more than 300 disgruntled investors in projects that collapsed are now suing him or his companies, claiming they bought units based on his endorsement.
For her part, Ms. Trump insisted that she is no mere Magnum mouthpiece, but an avid consumer of the decadent concoctions. "I actually grew up in Europe eating their ice cream with my mom. I eat them a lot," she maintained. "Especially now that I'm eight months pregnant, I actually have an excuse."
Frankly, a measure of skepticism might be in order: Even pregnant – yet another branch of the fertility motif – Ms. Trump still looks svelte enough to sashay down a Milanese catwalk. There can't be many ice-cream bars on her menus. Or won't be, after Ms. Trump and her husband, Jared Kushner, a Manhattan real-estate tycoon-in-training and owner of The New York Observer, welcome their first child in June.
I had dutifully assembled a battery of questions to ask Ms. Trump about prospective parenthood, the last media interview in her gauntlet-running, day-long marathon, which had begun at 5 a.m. For example, I intended to ask if she had determined the impending baby's gender, or whether the couple – married in 2009 in a modest, 500-guest ceremony at the the Trump National Golf Club in Bedminster, N.J. – had chosen the baby's name, or whether, if it's a boy, he would be circumcised.
That discussion would have segued neatly into the next – some description of the process by which Ivanka Trump, raised a Protestant, had agreed to convert to Judaism, and been tutored by Rabbi Haskel Lookstein of New York's modern orthodox Kehilath Jeshurun congregation, on the Upper East Side.
The couple had been introduced by mortgage brokers hoping to spark a different romance – bringing together two established names in New York real estate to catalyze property transactions. (Among many other assets, the Kushner family owns 666 Fifth Avenue, purchased in 2006 for $1.8-billion, the highest price ever paid for a Manhattan skyscraper.) The brokers' plans didn't materialize, but the Jared-Ivanka connection has endured.
"So a very good deal came together," she says with a laugh.
Her initial reluctance to convert, however, had reportedly occasioned a brief separation, in 2008. The breach was healed by her subsequent decision to undergo the conversion ritual, a months-long immersion in all things Judaic, and was sealed with Jared's presentation of a 5.22-carat cushion-cut diamond engagement ring, purchased by him from her own line – Ivanka Trump Fine Jewelry. So she not only nabbed the ring – she got the money.
Alas, my probing questions never landed. She didn't echo her imperious father's now-famous line, "You're fired!" But she cut me off like a flailing contestant on The Apprentice, the long-running reality TV show that he hosts and on which she has frequently served as a boardroom judge.
"I don't discuss anything personal," she said, with a glare that would have flash-frozen a Belgian chocolate ice-cream bar. "Let's talk about Magnum."
By that point in this vacuous PR exercise, we had somehow managed to establish that Ivanka is "not overly obsessed with spending time in the gym," but does enjoy skiing, tennis and, increasingly, golf with Jared, either at verdant, 90-year-old Winged Foot in Mamaroneck, N.Y., where they are members, or any of the 13 Trump-owned facilities, including clubs in West Palm Beach, Aberdeen, Scotland, and San Juan, Puerto Rico.
"So we have lots of options. I'm not as good as my dad," she confessed. (The Donald is said to carry an under-10 handicap). "I'm a hacker, although he does give me pointers with my swing. Jared and I play together. We took a few lessons."
I felt like a prosecuting attorney with a hostile witness. Still floundering, I tried her modelling history. "I was modelling while at school," she explained. (Ms. Trump attended high school at Connecticut's Choate Rosemary Hall private school, and later worked for the likes of Versace, Marc Bouwer, Thierry Mugler, Tommy Hilfiger and Sassoon. "But that was never a career path for me. Once I got to college, I was done."
Was she bothered by the common stereotype of models as empty-headed and superficial? "Generally speaking, you can be consumed about the vantage point by which people view you. And I would have a lot of obstacles to deal with, in that regard. Being a woman. Being a former model. Being the boss's daughter. I choose not to think about it because largely it's irrelevant. My performance is what it is. I'd have a bigger problem if people who worked with me felt the same way after a transaction."
I glanced at my list of questions – wasted effort. Ms. Trump had plainly had enough. The interview was over. She was tired. She had a flight back to New York to catch. She stood for three photos and turned brusquely away.
They had promised me an ice-cream bar. I didn't even get that.
Michael Posner is a senior feature writer for The Globe and Mail.