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An ode to the classic crisp beige pleated trouser. These pants seem to somehow say "I'm boring" and "I'm fascinatingly intellectual" at the same time. A pant to wear to a museum. They probably hung in Bergdorf Goodman being perfectly unremarkable until the fine woman who had them before me decided to take them home. They fit perfectly.

 
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The Blouse. I've probably had it for fifteen years. I cant remember where I got it and the tag has always been cut out so it could be Dior or it could be Banana Republic. It's made from the most incredibly soft silk, and the button configuration leaves no option for anything other than a dangerously open, low neckline. Its been through everything with me, and probably met everyone I've ever loved. Been unbuttoned in every tender way possible. If you've seen me in, it I probably loved you.

 
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A perfect vintage trench coat with the tragic flaw of having holes in the lining of both pockets. Both of which I still put things in constantly and lose. Sentimental value of this coat is worth more than the things that fall through the broken seams.