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While Vic (what, you don't call her that?) promised me we could shop in places more mega-spree-grab-everything-friendly than Barneys, I couldn't leave the store without picking up one thing first: sunglasses. The paparazzi flashbulb-shielding powers of these are great, but I loved the shape even more. They're so me! And so Vic (...toria).
Downtown at Zara, Vic zeroed in on this red dress for its unusually high neckline. "It just sort of elevates it from the standard shift, you know?" Of course, I nodded. When Vic asks something, you nod.
"I grind so many stiletto heels down to the metal! I'd bet I go through  a pair of five-inchers every two weeks or so," Victoria sighed. She bought seven pairs of these pointy-toed pumps. I bought one. Sigh.
At Topshop, Vic hissed a very audible "eww" in the general direction of the wide-legged denim section, then grabbed these stovepipes. I followed suit, buying the same pair of perfectly acid-washed skinnies. (But I didn't "eww" at the flares. I'd feel bad, and I happen to love that style too. Sorry, Vic.)
Midway through the afternoon, Vic dragged me into Sephora even though I insisted I didn't need any makeup at the moment. "You do, though, you do," she frowned, pointing me in the direction of some pink-tinted bronzer—ideal for those with reddish undertones in their skin. Their "VERY PALE" skin, by Vic's assessment.
Next we popped into Mango, where Vic insisted I upgrade my bag—specifically, the size of it. "Handbags need to be big enough to fit a small dog. Or big enough to look sort of like they're actually luggage, and you need a porter. You know?" I nodded. Again.
The day after our shopping trip, this perfect day-to-night dress arrived at my door, complete with "xo VB" note. And a toy for my own small dog. Posh, you the best. I'd still want to be you in the talent show.