So my sis lent me the latest Vanity Fair and as I leafed through the ads--usually a source of enormous pleasure for me--instead, this time, I got angry. Page after page of supercilious looking models with perfect skin and posture, staring calculatedly yet blankly from the page. So posed, so lacking energy and motion and emotion. The opposite of style. Except--for Chloé. I snooped around online today and saw a pattern in the Chloé advertisements, two girls usually, thoroughbreds on the run, having improbably good times with their thousand dollar handbags. But, still, they made me believe.
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