So I pack light to stay over in New York for a photography course I’m taking. It’s June and schvitzy in Pennsylvania. A little overcast, but I still figure I don’t need an umbrella.
When I emerge from the train station in Manhattan, the weather is more late fall than late spring. Plus it’s drizzling.
By the time I’m done with class, I look like I’ve just gotten out of the shower. Manage to get my mitts on the last umbrella at the closest drugstore.
Still frozen the next day. So where to find a hoodie among all the bikinis and sunglasses?
Ta-Da. There it was. Neiman Marcus Last Call. Whatever that meant.
I was told it wasn’t an outlet; it was the floor between the bargain basement and the retail store. Not exactly true.
The prices were still Needless Markup. But not quite as marked up as the real store. I was desperate.
So my new hoodie is toasty, and it’s got a real Neiman-Marcus label inside. What more could a gal ask for on a crummy autumn day in June?