I have clothes for versions of myself I have barely met.
There’s the version of me who goes to galleries on Sunday afternoons and somehow always has the right coat for it.
The version who wears tiny heels to dinner without spending the whole evening thinking about taking them off.
The version who packs for spontaneous weekends away and remembers to bring a matching makeup pouch, a good book, perfume, skincare, and exactly the right outfit for every possible situation.
The version who wears a white shirt without spilling anything on it.
The version who owns a beautiful silk skirt and wears it on a random Wednesday just because she feels like it.
Some of these women are real.
Some of them are just very good at convincing me to buy things.
And honestly, I don’t think I’m the only one.
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