Ms. Connor poked her head into the stock room, laughing. “I don’t think that nickname applies any more. Come on. Let’s go shopping,” she said....“Oh, by the way,” she added, “I own this shop. It was my Dad’s and he left it to me when he died last year. Tonya works for me.”Tonya held my hand and led me to my next adventure. Stepping out of the stock room, there was a fitting room on my left and restroom on my right. We walked through the short hall between them and into the shop. The main shop. I'd worn my Martin clothesfor the drive with the idea of using this moment as a sort of chrysalis-opening thing. Spinning a web of silk (or frayed cotton as the case maybe), I'd wrapped myself up and it was time to come out metamorphosedinto...Me.Just like I had in the fitting room a few days before, I dropped mysagging slacks and my rolled-down BVDs and tossed off my t-shirt andtook out of my suitcase what was essentially a smaller version of myusual summer outfit, with underwear that. More

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