ON MARCH 1, EIGHT WEEKS fast-fashion clean, I smugly concluded that 2022 would be my first Zara-free year. “I’m just not feeling it,” I breezed. “That thrill-seeking, irresponsible part of me is dead.” I went online to confirm this and was instantly mainlining £59.99 bouclé like the crack whore we know me to be.
“You’re better than that,” my proper fashion editor pal decreed. Am I though? Am I really? I tried it on —
