to them. The gr…— I became fascinated by the way in which the grifter represents a fundamental and universal truth. In a place like New York City, we are all faking it. We all perform our identities; we all create our own personae. We all participate in the meaningless rites of accruing “social capital” — whether it’s posting selfies on Instagram or checking into a high-end room at 11 Howard or getting that svelte, ageless, Oprah-approved body. And we all suffer from imposter syndrome: the sneaking suspicion that, one day, everybody will find out who we truly are. The irony is, of course, they won’t — they’re too busy worrying we’ll do the same to them. The grifter just figures out how to make the subtext of our lives, well, text. She doesn’t so much d…