The first in a series of articles about what we wear and how clothes make us feel.
I’m one of those women who always played out the vestiges of our collective hunter-gatherer instinct by continually shopping for clothes, often at vintage stores. Having only one body to cover and two feet to be shod, I don’t technically need anything—and haven’t since 1996. But that doesn’t stop me from being sucked into the carefully curated boutiques I pass as I walk around the city where I live, falling into a trance as I flip through racks.
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