Hola Sugarcups, We inhabit the age of the perpetual fashion; and for the first time we have never been so plundered. Last week I was wandering round a charity shop in Dalston and I saw a girl. She was familiar with the fashion triangle and was at least three decades old. She bustled her way past a long line of plastics, blouses and-er-plastics, polyestery, midis, for a khaki knitted cardigan. Well a kind of very, very cream/old oatmeal, thick, bitchily handknitted piece of monstrosity in with bigthumpy/umbilical/soitgoes, button and border and non-tribalised pockets and no discernible rings of trendiness. She…
