Jasmine Fournier

Hello. Some of you may know me as the zany former editor 'n chief of 34th Street magazine who woefully will soon be pushed, rather shoved, into that nebulous place commonly referred to as the real world, but some of you may not. I would like to share some brief ruminations with you and I hope that you will be entertained.

It was your typical crowd considering the circumstances: 6 p.m. on a Monday in a restaurant that teetered on the edge of Rittenhouse Square, Rouge was about to be flooded with a classy, well-dressed crowd of Center City's clearly sophisticated, pseudo-European crowd.