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.…
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