A late afternoon dash to Century City’s mall to replace my son’s stolen prom suit (a sentence that still feels vaguely absurd) kicked off with urgency and focus. But, of course malls, in spring have other ideas. Somehow I drifted, as one does, into that shop-happy mindset where everything suddenly looks useful if it’s striped, airy, or made of cotton. What was supposed to be one blue suit became the following: the , above, the , below, the , the , the , the , the , and the striped shirtdress. Suit restored. Spring sprung.