Meet The Next First Lady

Judith Giuliani always dreamed big, which got her out of small-town Pennsylvania, through two marriages, and into the arms of Rudy Giuliani. But, as her husband runs for president, people are asking, "Who does she think she is?"

Today she and Giuliani, when they are not boarding private Gulfstream IV jets to Europe or trying to woo voters, shuttle between a $4 million Hamptons house and a $5 million nine-room Upper East Side apartment near Madison Avenue, its dining room walnut-paneled and crammed with crystal, china, and linen from Scully & Scully.

Her annual salary has also improved: $125,000, evidently for helping to write some of the speeches Giuliani likes to give (for which he received $11.7 million between January 2006 and March 2007).

This comes as a surprise to at least one of Judith's acquaintances. Asked if he knew Judith was writing speeches, one former Giuliani aide replied, "Holy cow! God forbid!"

The details of Judith's life have also undergone some refurbishing. Her monogrammed hand-stitched napkins embraced by thick silver napkin rings are on display, along with the new cigar room designed for her husband, and a mantelpiece adorned with white porcelain figurines of Winston Churchill, the statesman with whom Giuliani likes to invite comparison.

She struck an odalisque pose in Hamptonstyle magazine, and appeared robed in a floor-length burgundy gown by Carolina Herrera on the cover of Avenue magazine, whose editorial director, Pamela Gross, accompanies her frequently, especially when TV cameras are present.

("Never get between Pamela, Judith, and a camera," advises one observer.)

Judith sits in the front rows of fashion shows, her hair freshly styled by a full-time assistant lured from Frédéric Fekkai, and, when asked to pose, thrusts out an obliging hip for the cameras.

Although she informed WWD, "I have no room for shopping in my life," she buys Dolce & Gabbana.

No one was surprised when Giuliani presented her with a $20,000 Ceylon sapphire-and-diamond ring, selected by the bride-to-be at a store in Atlanta, to which she had flown with one New York City police officer.

What did astonish friends was the venue where the couple exchanged vows before 400 guests: the lawn of Gracie Mansion, with Mayor Bloomberg officiating.

On May 24, 2003, Andrew Giuliani (as best man), Whitney Nathan (as maid of honor), Vera Wang, Barbara Walters, Henry Kissinger, and Donald Trump all witnessed Judith triumph at Donna's old home.

"It was definitely Judith's idea to have it at Gracie," a close confidant tells me. "Rudy—he doesn't give a shit about clothes, bags, suits, or where he gets married."

Judith, on the other hand, clearly put special thought into the occasion. The train of her pale Vera Wang dress was studded with Swarovski crystals; on her dark-red hair perched a Fred Leighton diamond-and-pearl-encrusted tiara.

"There is a reason why she wore that tiara at her wedding: she really does see herself as a princess," says another former Giuliani aide.

"Not as a queen. Queen is her goal. Queen is who she wants to be."

She has become used to getting her way. An organizer of a recent fashion shoot received a call from one of Rudy's business associates warning her to address his wife as Judith.

According to this source, Judith became so smitten with the dress she was modeling "that she simply didn't want to take it off. She didn't offer to pay.

She made it very clear she wanted it for free. You know how it is when someone stalls." Instead, says this source, Judith kept repeating a kind of mantra: "I'm a sample size, I'm a sample size."

The fashion insider sighs. "But the problem was the dress was a sample, and the designer's only sample. But she was very persistent. We had almost a metaphorical tugging of the dress away!"

And not just that dress. "There were a number of items she tried on she wanted. There was greed in the air. We finally brokered a deal with the designer to give her some sort of discount for the dress."

Around the office of Giuliani Partners, it is said, Sunny Mindel, Giuliani's communications director, spoke of the need for providing an entire plane seat for Judith's "Baby Louis"—a reference to her Louis Vuitton handbag, which sits in solitary splendor on her travels.

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