I glance at the store attendant as he carefully packs what must be the hundredth shirt. The pile of clothes on the counter has grown so high it's starting to feel excessive, but Thorne did tell me to splurge a little, so who am I to argue? This is, after all, the finest clothing store in all of Vitra—or so they say. Judging by the sheer size of the place and the meticulous detail in every design, I'm inclined to believe it.
I try not to pay much attention to the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law duo browsing the fancy dresses nearby. Their voices are an endless stream of chatter, occasionally breaking into laughter as they hold up extravagant gowns for one another. It's sweet, in a way, but not something I'm interested in. Instead, I wander the aisles, my attention caught by the vast array of options. I pick out anything that pleases me, and judging by the growing pile at the counter, that's quite a lot.
