Hello new (to me) Alaia Heels and Mulberry Bag
When Francesca first moved in with me in 2006 (following a scorched-earth breakup that ended with me blasting Britney and drinking my weight in Coronas while piling all of my ex-boyfriend's possessions onto my front porch and then calling his mom to come pick them up), I got to experience what having a sister felt like - from the late-night dance parties to the truly epic fights. It was also the first time I got to experience the profound joy of plundering your sister's closet before a big night out.
My best friends in college and I borrowed each others' clothing, of course, but we were also 19-year-old college students, so the stuff we were borrowing from each other was more in the UGG category than the Fendi one. Francesca's meticulously curated closet had vintage finds from her travels in Italy; designer shoes found at consignment shops; the fruits of Daffy's in its heyday (RIP Daffy's). I had my own weird and kind of great assortment of finds: an olive-green Trovata wrap dress I'd acquired from my days as a cat-carrying Romanian princess; a pair of gold strappy Manolo Blahniks that made my feet ache just to look at them; way too many pairs of sunglasses.
