Sunday, October 10, 2004

--but my underwear was my own

Last night I got all spiffed up to go out for dinner. My roommate complimented on my top. I said, "Thanks, it was my grandmother's...and so was the handbag...and the jacket was T-Regina's...and the pants were Elisa-bĂȘte's." I never have to go shopping because I've cultivated friends who have lots of clothes to hand down to me.

On a similar note: on one of my rare shopping trips, I was trying on a sweater that I quite liked, and said to the shop girl, "Wow, it's like something my grandmother would have worn." She was nonplussed, until I explained that that's actually a good thing.

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