Crash (Previous Summer)
One hour!!!
Kelly's text pings on my phone in the middle of the wardrobe consultation and I have to work not to push the woman out the door on the spot.
Peg, who's supposed to help me find "my signature style", and has just talked for twelve minutes straight about how meta my "punk-derivative look" is, waits patiently while I tap out a reply, then smiles when I look up.
"I'm boring you, aren't I?" Peg says. The answer is yes, but I don't say so. "Sorry. This is my thing, you know? And you have this effortless way of looking tortured, right? So, I was so excited when Amber called."
