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Tag: flapper dresses

No One’s Studying You

The cabbie gives me the once over. “You a doctor?” he asks. “I’m a writer,” I say. “I thought you were a doctor,” he insists. “You got the hair, the glasses, the dress.” For the rest of my time in New Orleans, I wear patterned hose and flapper dresses and red pointed cowboy boots and a tight black tee-shirt with my Elvis medal pinned front and...

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