Her "crimes" are calculated and intellectually driven.

The "badness" of Eleanor Vane took a legendary turn when she was finally caught—not by the police, but by the young artist she had originally scouted to help her create the forgeries she left behind in the heists.

The story goes that Eleanor once spent six months befriending a tech billionaire just to gain access to his vault. He owned a rare Caravaggio that he kept in a room with improper humidity. Eleanor didn't lecture him; she simply threw a gala, caused a brief, controlled power outage, and by the time the lights came back on, the Caravaggio was gone.

To the public, she is a stiff, aging socialite. In reality, she is the world's most successful—and most stylish—art thief.

Instead of panic, Eleanor smiled. She didn't offer the artist money to stay quiet. Instead, she handed him a glass of vintage scotch and said:

She uses the invisibility that society often imposes on older women as her greatest tactical advantage.