i learned a lot about what Ina has done, but very little about who she is. this book lacked emotional vibrancy—and that made passages, such as those where she went on about the remodeling of her various properties, read more like tone-deaf and out-of-touch flexes rather than (as with the parisian project) the glorious expression of a long-held dream. besides—i don’t care about the name-dropping of your various contractors and designers because i’ve never heard of any of these people. 
given her background, i can understand keeping the viewer at a distance. but if that’s the goal, why bother writing a memoir? (money, i’m sure) 
stick to writing cookbooks, queen. your prose is fine, but the flavor is better in your food