A gleeful indictment of shopping season

Let indulgence and guilt wash over you like a beluga caviar facial.

This is my pretentious dispatch from the mall.

To heck with golden harps, heaven is a stack of new cashmere, good denim, and buttery leather boots, punctuated by something dainty in rose gold and a mist of something that smells like earth. My Valhalla is comfortable aesthetic perfection, tags freshly removed.

There’s a reason we talk about retail therapy.…