Wandering in some creepy mannequins.
If you're approximately my age and have ever read an US Weekly (or if you were in Los Angeles at any point in the mid-2000s), you definitely remember Kitson. I'm not sure how to describe it, other than "Paris Hilton." It was all Juicy Couture sweatpants and sparkly overpriced everything and paparazzi lurking outside and general moral decrepitude, and it was simultaneously SUPER obnoxious and kind of fun. You had to just dial down the old self-awareness for a second and go browse hot pink dog purses.
But now - like bedazzled tracksuits - Kitson is over. Gone.