Donald Trump wants a 250-foot golden Trump Arch in Washington.¹ Carly Simon spent half a century leaving people to wonder who “You’re So Vain” was really about. Trump has cleared up the mystery.
He has always liked his name on things: Trump Tower, Trump Plaza, Trump casinos, Trump golf courses, Trump vodka, Trump steaks, Trump University. Some worked, many didn’t, but at least they were his. If you wanted to stay in a hotel with TRUMP in giant letters over the door or believed gold bathroom fixtures improved your life, nobody stopped you. It was private business.
The presidency is different. The White House is not Trump Tower with better security. He gets the keys for four years; he doesn’t get the deed. That distinction seems to be getting lost somewhere under the gold leaf.
Trump has been steadily redecorating the White House in his own image. The Rose Garden lawn is now a white-stone patio, furnished with tables and umbrellas and increasingly decorated with statues; the Associated Press describes it as resembling the patio at Mar-a-Lago.² The effect is less Jackie Kennedy and more Mar-a-Lago North, with a layout that makes you wonder whether somebody is about to hand you a drinks menu.
So what makes Trump so focused on plastering his name on things — and so eager to punish people when they refuse to play along?
If Trump wants Mar-a-Lago to look like Versailles, fine. It’s his house. The White House isn’t his, which is why the ballroom matters more than the decorating jokes. Trump’s estimate was $200 million, paid for by donors. Contractor documents later put the estimate around $600 million, and it could go higher, with much of it paid for by taxpayers.