I'm a sucker for Poiret. I went to the exhibit at the Met years ago and set off so many alarms by leaning in to see details that security was about ready to escort me out.
Even just getting something a little bit above your self-perceived station can be a visceral thrill, I think, like the off-the-rack Miyake suit I bought once (and sure got my money's worth out of, given how frequently I wore it). Beautiful clothing makes you feel special (no newsbreak there).
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