Being a clothing addict isn’t a flaw, Madeline realized after years of retail therapy, dark nights battling buyer’s remorse, and lengthy discussions with collection agents. Facing her condition has empowered her, allowed her to accept herself. It’s with entitlement, therefore, that she enters Tucker’s Provisions, the tidy racks brimming with fix after fix. When she succumbs, it’s with finesse gained through relentless, unyielding practice. She’s decisive: a pinstriped, sleeveless dress with slimming, ruched sides, a midnight blue straw hat with chartreuse stitching, and a bag sewn of recycled silk. She steps back on Duval Street, parcels in hand. Her head held high. It happened at Tucker’s.
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