That Designer Touch

Went to the EnKa shop (the town's charity store, which is closed on Mondays, but Mom has the key) and tried on several high-waisted culottes in searing florals, hoping to wear them obnoxiously often and claim I was going on safari. Alas, none fit.

And they didn't fit in the same way, roughly confirming that they came from the same woman's closet. It occurred to me, as I moved from section to section, that I could guess which pieces were brought in at the same time by the same person - same size, same constellation of labels, checked against the date on the tag - and was able to reverse engineer the ex-closets of several townspeople. Which was mildly useful for piecing outfits together.