For Israeli-born fashion mogul Elie Tahari, life has been a story of rags to riches in the rag trade. Today, the 55-year-old—who slept on park benches when he arrived almost penniless in Manhattan more than 35 years ago—commands a $500-million-a-year sportswear empire.

He started by designing tube tops for the disco crowd while changing lightbulbs in the garment district. Eventually, he discovered his niche in a growing market between the Gap and Armani.
            
"I will have to find an item that people want, to make sure that that item is perfect,” says Tahari, who works alongside his 35-year-old wife, Rory, the label’s vice chairman and creative director, at Elie Tahari headquarters on 42nd Street. "It’s a very concentrated way of running a business. It’s very intense . . . I get a lot of frustration, but I put every item on the line as if it’s the only item I’m making. And everything's got to be right about it."
      
In an exclusive interview with Portfolio.com, Tahari discussed his aversion to staging runway shows and recruiting celebrities; his plans for a fragrance and eventually an initial public offering; his lucrative foray into Manhattan real estate; and his lawsuit against his former friend and fellow co-founder Andrew Rosen of the successful Theory label. He also talked about his recent first meeting with fashion doyenne Anna Wintour—after more than three decades as a force in the business.    


Lloyd Grove: I ran across this quote of yours. I’ll read it to you: "I get out of bed, and I look around and say, 'Don’t you fuck with me today.' I tell the spirit, 'Today, I am in charge, and you are not going to screw with me.' And that’s how I start my day."
 
Elie Tahari: That’s right.
 
L.G.: So who or what is this spirit that’s trying to fuck with you?
 
E.T.: There was a show with Lena Horne—this must have been 25 years ago—and I watched her start the show like that, where she’s lying on the bed and she is waking up, and she says to the audience, "Good morning. I pray it’s going to be a nice day.” And then she stops and she looks at the audience and says, "This is how I get up out of the bed.” And she gets up out of the bed [Tahari stands up to demonstrate], and she walks over to the window, and she turns around, and she says, "Now you don’t fuck with me today!" But it stuck with me. . . . You can start your day saying, "I am not a barometer. A barometer goes up and down. I’m a thermostat. I’m going to set on 72 degrees, and I’m going to stay like that today. And nothing is going to take my mind off me and my center." I kind of have to deal with the spirit, and I think everybody has a ritual. It was, I think, Thoreau, or Browning, or Eric Butterworth who said, "I get up out of bed, and I get all the wrinkles out of my bed. And when I finish taking all of the wrinkles out of the bed, this is when I take all the wrinkles out of my day. And I’m set to be the master of my spirit, the captain of my soul."

L.G.: "Invictus" [a poem by William Ernest Henley]. Speaking of beds, do you still remember what it was like sleeping on a park bench?
 
E.T.: Yes.
 
L.G.: What was that like? Do you remember how that felt?
 
E.T.: Um, I have slept on floors and outdoors and in the fields, whatever. When I arrived in New York—it was 1971—it was a couple of weeks in Central Park. I was a 20-year-old, and I didn’t even know that Central Park was not safe at night. Now, it’s safe. In those days, it wasn’t safe.  
 
L.G.: But do you remember the physical sensation of what that felt like, to sleep on a park bench? Do you have some muscle memory of that?
 
E.T.: Um, it was stiff. [Laughs]
 
L.G.: Did you hurt your back?
 
E.T.: No, I’m used to it. I ran away for a month as a kid [from the Israeli orphanage where his troubled family had sent him to live], and I remember running, hiding on roofs, and sleeping all night, taking the shoes as your pillow. When I got to New York, I had a pillow—a backpack with my clothes. But I was a kid who grew up in the streets in Israel, mostly in a Tel Aviv neighborhood. I was born in Jerusalem. My parents came from Iran.
 

L.G.: Your parents came from Iran, but you’re a sabra [a native-born Israeli].
 
E.T.: Yes. My father had a fabric store, and he used to sell fabrics, and uh, one of the reasons he left Iran was because of persecution. They burned the store down.
 
L.G.: They burned it down? They, meaning who? Because wasn’t the shah pro-Western?
 
E.T.: When the shah ran away—when his father passed away—he ran away to Italy, and Persian Jews and Italian Jews took care of him. And so when he came back, he took care of all the Jews he was in business with. The shah was one of the richest men in the world, he was in lots of businesses.

L.G.: But obviously, Islamic fundamentalism was percolating, and the Ayatollah Khomeini was a big force. Is that where it was coming from, the anti-Jewish sentiment?
 
E.T.: Yes, a lot of anti-Jewish sentiment the shah kept at bay as long as he could. But as soon as, you know, the shah died or had left Iran, a lot of Jews fled.
 
L.G.: But your parents got out of Iran way before all that.
 
E.T.: Yes, the shah allowed Jewish organizations, mostly American, to send airplanes to support the Jews in Iran. An airplane would come at midnight, seven days a week, whenever. The Jews in the synagogue would notify all the Jewish people, "If you want to go to Israel, show up at midnight in a heliport." And just like that, anybody came.

L.G.: And that was how your parents emigrated [from Iran] to Israel. Okay, let’s switch gears and talk about your business.
 
E.T.: I’m having a good time.
 
L.G.: Good, good. So you have this fabulous company. I don’t know a woman in New York who doesn’t own at least one of your business suits. It sort of started slowly. You sort of avoided the hype of the fashion industry. You didn’t do runway shows.

E.T.: Correct.
 
L.G.: You haven’t spent a lot of time and energy courting celebrities or getting them to wear your clothes. You’ve just done your own thing. One of my friends from the garment business tells me that one of the things that impresses him about you is that you just show enormous discipline and you go your own way and you’re not, like, pushed off your game by some new fad here or there. When you started this company, when you started out in the fashion business, or the clothing business, what was your vision? What were trying to do? What was your aesthetic for fashion?

E.T.: Okay, you asked a lot of questions!
 
L.G.: Yeah, I did. Too many questions.
 
E.T.: You know, you're asking the right questions. But when I started in this company, it was April 1974. At that time, I could only know how, maybe, to produce a T-shirt or to wear a T-shirt to a market, so at that time I clearly—
 
L.G.: You knew how to make tube tops.
 
E.T.: I knew how to make tube tops, yeah. That was a fairly easy process—you cut the tube from both edges and stitch it. . . .

L.G.: And you knew how to do all that because you had fine-motor control. I mean, you were a mechanic in the Israeli air force. So you have very good eye-hand coordination.
 
E.T.: And I was an electrician in the garment center. When there [was] an electrical problem, and I would see all the stuff that went on. . . . The reason I knew different things, I made it my business to know it, because I needed to survive that way.To know how to make things, I had to make some things, sell them, or find somebody to sell it. So when I started out, I couldn’t afford to make a collection. I could afford to make one piece at a time. And I didn’t have the financing, or the knowledge, or any of that. So to me, I will have to find an item that people want, to make sure that that item is perfect—its fit, the quality, the need, the demand out there, the price, you know, it has to be right, so it flies out. And, in many ways, I treat my business today—in whatever I can control—in the same way. But it’s a very concentrated way of running a business. It’s very intense. You can’t demand that from everybody, so it’s tough. I get a lot of frustration, but I put every item on the line as if it’s the only item I’m making. And everything’s got to be right about it—the demand, the fit, the quality, the price ratio, everything—before I approve it to go on the line. When I do that, and I’m focused, I have a very successful business.

L.G.: What’s your design aesthetic?
 

E.T.: Well, I look at my collection, and I give it a description. My wife and I can choose a description. It has to be modern. It has to be clean. It has to be sexy. It has to be sophisticated. Those are the words we use to describe what goes on the line and what doesn’t go on the line. So, you know, I don’t manage always to achieve it—in shoes, handbags, and menswear—but eventually I’m going to get there. And once we get there, and this—how [do] you call it—formula happens, and it works, it’s going to be an explosion! An international explosion! You know, there was an explosion in luxury goods. There was an explosion in the lower price points, like Zara. . . . But there was nothing happening in between that can be the entry price into luxury brands. And I thought, "Once we bring all the ingredients together, it’s going to be an explosion."

L.G.: You discovered a part of the market that was not being served?

E.T.: Right.
 
L.G.: And you’re still kind of alone? You're the leader in this part of the market, and you don't have a lot of competition?

E.T.: Absolutely, there is no competition. And, you know, sometimes I wish there were more competition. Because the more people are competing, the more it’s interesting for the consumer to shop. And, you know, the fact of the matter, my wife is a big shopper, she'll tell you that.
 
L.G.: You allow her to wear other than Elie Tahari clothes?
 
E.T.: She does! And I encourage her because that’s the only way for me to learn. One of the ways, anyway, is through her shopping. And I see what shoes she buys, what handbags she buys, what she wears.
 
L.G.: Your wife, Rory [the couple married in 2000], is the creative director here. And she came out of television production. You came out of electrical engineering. Neither of you, I guess, has had a formal fashion education. And a lot of topflight people don’t—Tommy Hilfiger, Diane von Furstenberg, Giorgio Armani. These are people who don’t have formal fashion training. So what’s the role of fashion education for somebody coming into this business?
 
E.T.: I think it’s in the gut. It’s street smarts. It’s go with your feelings, go with your instincts, you know. It’s common sense. It’s nothing to do with the schools. If you believe in it, and you do it, and you feel it, and you follow what you feel—it happens. I don’t care what business you’re in.
 
L.G.: To what do you attribute your eye and your design sense? I mean, did that come from your parents?
 
E.T.: No, I didn’t even know the difference between polyester and wool when I started in this business. Somebody had to explain to me. I remember who it was too.
 
L.G.: Who told you the difference?
 
E.T.: My patternmaker. He was showing me fabric, and one was more expensive than the other, and I said, "They both feel good. Why is one three or four times the price? Explain to me."
 
L.G.: And here you were, the son of a fabric-store guy, and you didn’t know the difference between polyester and wool?
 
E.T.: I didn’t know any of it. . . . The wool is more expensive. But I wanted to know price and delivery. I think if you love what you do, your eye develops.
 
L.G.: And you had this idea of designing clothes for, as you put it, "real women as opposed to runway models."
 
E.T.: I’m very proud of it, the fact that when I do a fitting, I do it on people who work in the company, not from an agency that is specializing in models for fittings. You know, I want the clothes to fit different consumers. And the mistakes often a lot of designers make, they fit on a certain body, and it’s got to be perfect on that body. So it’s perfect on one body, but it’s not going to be perfect on other bodies. So you have to sort of [have] common sense. You have to sort of weigh which way to mix.

L.G.: What are you wearing right now?

E.T.: Um, my shoes—I don’t know if it’s Puma or something. My jeans are Levi’s. And it’s our shirt—and the jacket over there too, ours. The shirt is a classic. I mean, it’s got a touch of detail, but it’s a classic shirt. A cotton shirt.
 
L.G.: What’s it go for?
 
E.T.: About $240.
 
L.G.: What’s the most expensive item that you sell now?
 
E.T.: It’s a fur coat, $16,000. And some of our handbags go up to $4,000 sometimes.

L.G.: How long has that been the case?
 
E.T.: This is our first fall for handbags. It’s only the second fall that we’re selling shoes—so it’s brand-new.
 
L.G.: Why did you wait so long to put handbags and shoes out under your brand name?
 
E.T.: We won’t drink wine before its time.
 
L.G.: Orson Welles said that.
 
E.T.: Right. And who said, "A kick in the ass is good when you’re facing in the right direction"?
 
L.G.: I don’t know. . . . So when are we going to have an Elie Tahari fragrance?
 
E.T.: I think it’s on the agenda next. But we won’t drink wine before its time. And when we try it, it will happen. You know, I approach a business very much like going with the flow. When things are supposed to happen, they happen, and I seize the moment. When I have somebody that wants to license belts with us, and I think they are a great company, they’re ready, and everything is right, then we do it. It’s not that our people go out and seek. I don’t do that.… So somebody says, "We’d like to license you a belt," and we have them design the belt line, and then they send it—or a tie, or a shirt, because not everything we’ll be able to do ourselves. And if we can have partners and we can do it well, fine. But it’s got to be the right people. We’ve been talking to Estée Lauder about perfumes for two years, and it didn’t happen.
 
L.G.: Had you been smelling different fragrances?
 
E.T.: I did that too, yeah. But it didn’t happen yet.
 
L.G.: And you’ve already got the name picked out? You can’t have Obsession. That’s taken. How about Compulsion? You can’t have Unforgivable. Maybe Inexcusable?

E.T.: Yes, Inexcusable. [Laughs.]
 
L.G.: So, this figure $500 million gets bandied about—is that sales?
 
E.T.: That’s sales.
 
L.G.: And you’re now in Europe and Asia as well?
 
E.T.: We are very reluctant to do a lot of licensing, and we must have been in half a dozen countries, to open up in Asia, in the Far East. We did a Russian deal; we’re doing a Turkish deal; we did the Dubai deal; and in Greece we are talking to them now.

L.G.: And you’re in the U.K. and Austria?
 
E.T.: Yes, we sell in Europe through Milan.
 
L.G.: I see. You still don’t do runway shows during Fashion Week, right?
 
E.T.: Not yet. Not yet.
 
L.G.: Your preferred method has been to invite people to come to your showroom, right? Why is that?
 
E.T.: At one point in my career—I would say I was in business for five years—I had started doing fashion shows when I had a full collection. And I did it for about two seasons. And it took a big toll on me, and on the company, and on the financial resources. The amount of press that you get at a time doesn’t justify all the energy, you know. It takes you away from doing what you need to do. When you’re designing for a fashion show, you’re designing for a lot of work. And everybody’s potential is that day, that runway. The whole organization is that day, that hour. And after the runway, everybody’s collapsing. But the truth is, that’s when you really start going to work—producing it, shipping it on time—and none of that happens after the show. Nothing was shipped on time, and there was a lot of distraction. Now, I’m not saying that it’s not good to do shows.

L.G.: You seem to suggest that you might be doing them.
 
E.T.: Yeah, when I feel that we can put a show on, and we have the resources, and the innovation, and the finance. Not that we don’t have the finance, but I’m saying that when we need to make the commitment to do it, we’ll do it right. And I want it to be done in such a way that everybody will be excited, and will be on the runway, and talk about it, and it will be a breath of fresh air. Because when I look at shows—I go to some shows—I look at the newspaper, I look at the videos, and there’s no reason for the shows. I don’t understand.

L.G.: If you were to have a show, would Anna Wintour get a front-row seat?
 
E.T.: I don’t think I would have a choice. [Laughs.] Absolutely. If she comes.
 
L.G.: What is it with you? I saw a quote where somebody was pointing out that Vogue had pretty much ignored you, and you said, "I guess I’m not important enough for Vogue."
 

E.T.: No, no. Well, that quote was taken out of context. But look, I think Anna is a terrific lady, and I—
 
L.G.: Yada yada yada. I understand.
 
E.T.: No, no—I had breakfast with her recently, and I’m saying it firsthand. I didn’t know Anna before I met her. It was a couple of months ago, in the Condé Nast dining room.

L.G.: You met her for the first time a couple months ago?
 
E.T.: And it was amazing. I think she’s an amazing lady. And this is not buttering up or anything. I mean, I can see it’s a very difficult position to be her and just to be able to juggle it and have a normal life. It’s a challenge we accept.
 
L.G.: I know nothing about the fashion business, but it is kind of amazing to me that you’ve been a force in the industry for such a long time and that it wasn’t until two months ago that you met Anna Wintour.

E.T.: Anna is the top editor in the market. There are other top editors I haven’t met yet either. I’d rather not go out and . . .

L.G.: You keep to yourself? A shy guy?
 
E.T.: I’m a bit shy. But I’m not shy in other ways. Anna, she saw me. As simple as that. This whole thing is really a bit sensitive to talk about—between me and my wife. So . . .

L.G.: So not only will we see a fragrance, but we’re probably going to see some presence in Vogue in the near term?
 
E.T.: We are in Vogue. [In recent months, the magazine has used a few Elie Tahari items in photographs.]
 
L.G.: Congratulations. By the way, speaking of celebrities, other companies pay celebrities appearance fees to show up at their fashion shows and sit in the front row. You haven’t done that. Why not?
 
E.T.: I wouldn’t do that. Because then it’s not about the clothes anymore. It’s about the audience. And this is totally against my philosophy. I mean, if a celebrity wants to come, okay. But to go and pay them? I think it’s crazy.
 
L.G.: But you have not, like, actively associated your brand with a celebrity brand. Why not?

E.T.: It’s not that we don’t want to be associated with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, or Madonna, or some of my wife’s favorites. It just that it’s a marketing plan, and we haven’t gone with that action yet.
 
L.G.: Is your business model maybe something like Brooks Brothers, in the end?
 
E.T.: I hope not! [Laughs.] It’s pretty boring.
 
L.G.: But something that sort of stands on its own and doesn’t need the extra glitz of a movie star?

E.T.: That’s the whole point.
 
L.G.: I mean, if Madonna wants to shop in your store, show up at an opening, you’re not going to bar her. But you’re not going to go out of your way to make sure that she delivers herself onto your red carpet?
 
E.T.: It’s ironic that Angelina Jolie is one of the people who doesn’t accept gifts, and she was wearing our clothes for the Cannes Film Festival, and she was photographed. . . . That type of thing is real. When it’s real like that, it makes you feel good.
 
L.G.: So she bought it with her own hard-earned money. And you had nothing to do with that.
 
E.T.: She had a stylist who brought it to her, and she bought it. I had nothing to do with it. And I saw her in the Hamptons—she and Brad were at a charity dinner for New Orleans—and I brought it up. And she just said she bought it. And she wore it plenty, so it makes you feel good. But when you have to dress a celebrity or pay them to wear it, I wouldn’t feel right. I’m not saying it’s not good for business or the front page, but nothing I’d pursue.

L.G.: Let me ask you: What has stopped you up to this point from making yourself an instant multibillionaire? You’re a privately held company. But if you did an I.P.O.—people who know say it’s such a great company, it’s such a great brand—it would be valued at a premium. What is your stake in the company?

E.T.: A hundred percent.
 
L.G.: Oh my God. So you would be as rich as Rupert Murdoch.

E.T.: No, I wouldn’t.
 
L.G.: You could live in his apartment! Oh, wait a second—you already do.
 

E.T.: [Laughs.] It’s a beautiful place. [Tahari paid Rupert and Wendi Murdoch a reported $25 million for the 9,300-square-foot Prince Street triplex loft designed by Christian Liaigre, complete with a 2,700-square-foot roof deck, a gym, a sunroom, and a screening room.]
 
L.G.: But what stopped you from doing that? You could retain control.
 
E.T.: I’ll tell you what it is. It’s not the money that’s the motivator. It’s to do the right thing for the company and to have satisfaction that you’re doing the right thing for the company. . . . For me, going public, it takes away the control, at least certain controls away, and I’m not ready to deal with that. . . . I sold one company [Theory, which Tahari co-founded in 1997 with fashion executive Andrew Rosen], so we had some money [Tahari’s proceeds were around $50 million]. Financially, I don’t feel that I need to live a billion-dollar lifestyle.

L.G.: You’re not flying too many commercial flights these days?
 
E.T.: Yes, I am.
 
L.G.: You are?
 
E.T.: I fly commercial by myself. When I’m with my family, my wife and my kids [six-year-old Jeremy and three-year-old Zoe], it’s a different thing. But I’m not in that league yet. Maybe when we go I.P.O. . . .
 
L.G.: How old are you?

E.T.: Um, 55.
 
L.G.: Okay, so at some point, when you decide that maybe you should be involved in other things and the business is going fine.
 
E.T.: I have a six-year-old son who tells me, "Daddy, when I grow up, I’m going to change the company to Jeremey Tahari." [Laughs.] He’s got a vision. So if he really wants to be in the business, he’s showing desire.
 
L.G.: You would like your son to be in the business?
 
E.T.: I would like him to do work that’s challenging and makes him happy. This could be a punishment to somebody, if you don’t love it.

L.G.: It’s a rough business.
 
E.T.: It’s a rough business, yes.
 
L.G.: Why did you start Theory, you and Mr. Rosen?
 
E.T.: It was an idea, uh, that I had. And I made it to get it done. And I didn’t have the talents to put it on the map. You know, when I met Andrew, he was a talented guy. He knew how to market it, how to put it together.
 
L.G.: He was a longtime executive for Anne Klein.
 
E.T.: And he’s a good merchant. He’s a good seller, and I learned a lot from him. Without him, an idea would stay an idea. But it was an idea. I had to manage the finances. I had the organization to do it, and I had the concept. So it was good. The whole concept was about stretch fabrics, to do comfortable pants for men. That’s where we wanted to start. When we started it, it became a women’s business because we knew women, so we said, "Let’s start with women." And the women’s [line] took off. And then we got so busy with the women’s [line], we forgot about the men. A few years later, we started doing men’s. But the whole idea was for men to wear comfortable pants. They needed to have pleats in the front. Like with Giorgio Armani suits and with stretch fabric, you don’t need the pleats. You can wear pants very tight, and it will stretch, and it will be very comfortable.
 
L.G.: Why did you decide to sell it? Well, I guess that’s a matter of public record: because Andrew told you he wanted to retire. But it turns out that he didn’t retire. [In 2006, Tahari sued Rosen, claiming that, in 2003, Rosen hoodwinked him into selling Theory too cheaply to a Japanese firm for $100 million. Instead of retiring, Rosen retained 11 percent of the company—which has greatly increased in value—and stayed on to run Theory’s operations in the United States. Recently, a New York State judge dismissed most of Tahari’s lawsuit but allowed a dispute over Asian royalties to go forward.] Is that lawsuit over now?
 
E.T.: No.
 
L.G.: Oh, it’s still going on. I mean, the judge said that the only complaint that she was going to let continue was your complaint on royalties in Asia. Is that where things are?
 
E.T.: That’s where things are. But that’s all we needed, really, to start discovery. It’s a good position. In fact, we were in court last week because the other side didn’t want to do it—the president of the company—and the judge told them that they have to. Once we can discover, that’s all we need to do.

L.G.: But you guys were more than just partners, you were friends. And obviously that friendship is over. How do you feel about that?
 
E.T.: I’m hurt. I feel hurt. I feel that my wife and I were like a brother and sister to him. I just don’t think that motivation should be in life just a financial motivation. I think when that enters the picture, you know, bad decisions are made. Look, I’ll go on record and say I don’t want any money from anybody. I just want what’s done wrong to be done right and the money given to charity. I don’t want any of it. But, you know, you don’t want to live your life like somebody put something over [on] you. And I don’t know if I’m making too many comments when I’m not supposed to.

L.G.: Clearly, you were upset with the guy or else you wouldn’t have sued him. And that’s a matter of public record.
 
E.T.: I still think he’s a great guy.
 
L.G.: You’re also kind of in the real estate business here in New York?
 
E.T.: Yes, by luck.
 
L.G.: By luck. You own a major building, don’t you?
 
E.T.: Yes, 510 Fifth Avenue. It’s about 71,000 square feet. Five stories. It’s very important architecturally—a landmark building by Skidmore, Owings, & Merrill. It was the first glass bank in New York. I have a whole book about it. And they teach it in architectural school. So it’s a very important building, and I would like very much to restore it. [The 1954 vintage Manufacturers Hanover Trust Building, which Tahari, a corporate tenant, acquired in a roundabout way five years ago after suing the then-landlord, Chase Manhattan Bank.] We have tenants. . . . And you’ve been to East Hampton—you saw our store?

L.G.: Yes. How is the real estate market?
 
E.T.: It’s fantastic.
 
L.G.: It’s still great to be an owner.
 
E.T.: Yeah, I mean the price I purchased 510 Fifth Avenue at a few years back [more than $20 million]—it’s crazy. Someone offered us four, five times more than we purchased it for. It’s crazy what’s happening.
 
L.G.: Have the credit crunch and other factors affected your business?
 
E.T.: I would say no. But I would say traffic, or the demand, is not as good this year as last year or two years before or the past three years. This year, the sales at retail seem to have softened a little bit, so I don’t know what the reasons are. It’s not as good as we expected it to be this year.

L.G.: Is it causing you any heartburn?
 
E.T.: No. . . . You know, it’s something we were facing more at the beginning of the year, and now the last few weeks it has been correcting itself. But I hear from the stores that they’re concerned about having good Christmas business. [Elie Tahari has about 600 points of sale domestically, in such department stores as Saks Fifth Avenue and Neiman Marcus, plus a few stand-alone boutiques like the ones downtown and in East Hampton.]  
            
 
L.G.: Tell me what Rory’s role is in the company.
 
E.T.: Yes. She’s got to keep my spirit up. . . . She does all the advertising, P.R., and special product lines, like when we opened up the East Hampton store—we have lots of other companies’ products in there. So those are two areas that directly report to her.
 
L.G.: And what’s that like, having your wife in business with you?
 
E.T.: You know, it’s good on the good days, and it could be bad on the bad days, but we’re having a lot more good days in our relationship. Now that I’m working with my wife and we’re intimate in our decision-making, I wouldn’t have it any other way. If I had to go home and explain what my day was to my wife, I couldn’t go through that. I don’t have to explain. My wife sees me. She knows what I’ve been through. She knows my character. I know what she is doing. I know she comes from a meeting. It’s like, really, two lives but in one. And I think that’s how marriage should be. But a lot of people can’t handle it, and I understand that, because you’ve got to control your bad days. If you put it in perspective, “Oh okay, something happened.” Keep the low point small and the high point bigger.
 

L.G.: Now, you grew up in Israel, which is still and was then a very embattled country. If I’m not mistaken, you lived through the Six Day War [1967]. I don’t think you were old enough to have served.
 
E.T.: Right, right.
 
L.G.: But did that contribute to your sense that life might be a constant battle?
 
E.T.: You know, in Israel, life is very fragile. Anything can happen. I think people can only take so much stress. And until you developed an attitude of "We don’t care anymore. I don’t care anymore. If a bomb goes in the bus, a bomb goes in the bus." You know? I go with the flow. And people develop this kind of attitude that they want to have a good time all the time. I’ve never seen a country that at two o’clock in the morning, there are traffic jams because people are going out to restaurants. At four o’clock, the town is packed—all the roads, you know, everybody going out or coming home or whatever. And you ask yourself, "How do these people get up to work?" I don’t understand it.
 
L.G.: That’s the energy in Israel you’re describing?
 
E.T.: That’s the energy. Have you been to Israel? The most beautiful women, in my opinion. You have to go.
 
L.G.: Now, you wanted to be a pilot in the Israeli air force. Why didn’t you become a pilot?

E.T.: I never even got to be a candidate for that. You know, to be a pilot in Israel, you’ve got to have the best health condition—not that I wasn’t. But you have to come from great education. You’ve got to be really sharp, a very good communicator, and you do a lot of tests. And if they get ten thousand, they end up with a thousand. And then the thousand take a class, and then they end up with 10. I served in a camp where they were training the pilots. And out of the thousand, maybe 10 became jet pilots and the rest became helicopter or transport pilots.
 
L.G.: Is it possible that if they hadn’t said you’re going to be a mechanic instead, that you wouldn’t have this business? That if you had become a pilot—
 
E.T.: I would be living the good life. Pilots are rock stars in Israel.
 
L.G.: But didn’t you used to go to Studio 54?
 
E.T.: Yeah.
 
L.G.: Did you have trouble meeting women? I’m sorry for you.

E.T.: Um, no, I’ve been lucky. I was good-looking when I was young. [Laughs.]
 
L.G.: So you didn’t do so badly on the rock-star front?
 
E.T.: No. I was very lucky.
 
L.G.: You’ve said that you’d like eventually to settle in Israel.
 
E.T.: I thought that my wife and I, we’d get married and slowly move some of our business to Israel. I really felt that. I still dream of being a farmer . . . with grandchildren or kids on a farm. I still visualize that. I mean, if you say retirement, I couldn’t think of Florida. I’m always thinking, you know, "Why not give to Israel, the country that gave me so much?" And so Israel is in my heart. I mean, obviously, I love this country.
 
L.G.: You’re a U.S. citizen?
 
E.T.: Yes, yes, and my wife was born here. I think that my wife would be amenable to moving to Israel, but I don’t think it will ever happen. She is not happy anywhere but New York, and I understand. And I’m in many ways the same way. Maybe it’s just a dream. Life is not so easy in Israel. So, you know, I still visualize, but it’s a fantasy.