As I sit on the bus in my striped fur Yves Salomon jacket, leggings with the knees ripped out, shod in bright red Bernhard Willhelm sandals and a smirk, I'm happily giving father time the finger, at least today. Ladies, I hope you all do the same.
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They were not rebels. They didn't bring their clothing with them illicitly, tight skirts folded neatly and tucked into handbags. That would have been more understandable, almost more acceptable.
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