IT’S A GORGEOUS Monday afternoon; one of those rare, life-affirming days in the early summer when the world, however fleetingly, appears vibrant, green and new. But at our table in a bustling Italian restaurant on the banks of the Grand Canal, Lisa Hannigan isn’t brimming with the joys of summer just yet. She’s anxious that if she orders food, she may accidentally spill something on her blouse. (There is a photo shoot to follow.) She’s anxious that if she doesn’t eat, the restaurant may want the table back. But for the most part, she’s just anxious about where I might be going with my opening question. Read the rest of this article here.
November 1st, 2010.