Vogue – It’s early in the New Year, and Selena Gomez is hidden away north of Manhattan, tucked in a room in an anonymous Tudor nestled in the crook of a picturesque village’s curving hills. The sky is fogged to white; the Bronx River ruffles the heavy quiet. Lightly mesmerized, I walk up to the wrong front door and am greeted by a kindly man in a suit and an N95 mask. “Selena?” he says. “Selena’s across the street. She seems lovely. Good luck.”…
