Le Ronson, C'est Moi

(and now, a word from faran...) In high school, we had to read All The King's Men. I didn't love it, except for one part: Where it's explained that
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(and now, a word from faran...) In high school, we had to read All The King's Men. I didn't love it, except for one part: Where it's explained that

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(and now, a word from faran...) In high school, we had to read All The King's Men. I didn't love it, except for one part: Where it's explained that a soul mate is someone who sees you the way you see yourself. That doesn't mean their depiction is accurate, or fair, or even necessarily flattering. It just means that somewhere, someone sees the you that you want to be, the you that you can be, and the you that you can't quite explain, but cling to through every conversation, every experience, and yeah, every outfit. That's probably why we love Charlotte Ronson so much on this site. She's one of the few designers - along with Chloe, Marc by Marc, Luella, Miu Miu sometimes - that seems to plumb deep down through our guts, figure out what kind of girl we wanted to be in high school, in college, in bed this morning, and throws it up onto the runway. Charlotte's clothes aren't the most original this week (that goes to Rodarte or Ben Cho), and they're not the most beautifully built (like Proenza, Chris Benz, or Oscar). But they're the ones that cling close to our heart like plastic around a really good, really new CD. And for that, we salute them. Merci, Charlotte Ronson - as always, we crushed.

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