A new Vanity Fair profile of Sally Quinn, the former first lady of The Washington Post and still a major player in D.C. society, is out and offers a mixed bag of criticisms of Mrs. Ben Bradlee as a society-climbing toughie, but also a key reason her son, Quinn, has done so well despite a long list of difficulties.

Evgenia Peretz does not relent in her critical look at Quinn, painting her as something of a homewrecker for going after Bradlee when he was editor -- and married -- and she was a mere society reporter in the 1970's. She also describes serious rifts within the family between her and Bradlee's older children from a previous marriage.

“Many felt abandoned--but none more than Ben's son Dino, then in his early teens. With his mother getting increasingly into Gurdjieff, Dino found himself suddenly on his own. When his parents were still together, it had been one of Dino's favorite father-son traditions to go to Redskins games; they'd sit in co-owner Edward Bennett Williams's box, along with lawyer Joe Califano and columnist Art Buchwald. But when Sally came along, that stopped,” the story states. “Although Dino first laid eyes on her at a Redskins game, this time she was in that box next to Bradlee; he was far off in the stands, having been taken to the game by Bradlee's colleague Geyelin. Dino naturally resented this blonde interloper, and, living with his mother, he had no contact with his father for a few years. The real problems would come later.”

But Quinn is given kudos for guiding her son through rough waters of learning disabilities, health problems and social difficulties, to the point where he is now married and co-author of his second book.

“Refusing to give up, Sally sent him to every specialist on the globe and saw him through dozens of surgeries, while tackling one setback after another. At age 14, he was finally diagnosed with VCFS, a syndrome that affects his heart, facial structure, immune system, and ability to talk and comprehend,” the story continues. “While the diagnosis was a breakthrough, it didn't make it any easier. Her friends could only look on with heartbreak and amazement. Recalls Walsh, ”Every time she'd think, Oh, hey, we solved this problem, then, oops, she'd get a letter from the hospital, saying, Oh, by the way, you've got to bring Quinn in for an AIDS test, because we've just discovered that the batch of blood we used during the period when Quinn had an operation was infected."