It has been determined since day one, that we will endeavor to shop only secondhand for the duration of this trip.
Yes.
Yes, I’m into this.
But after passing by the Topshop in downtown Auckland 17 times, I finally caved and scurried through the store’s big double doors before my good sense could intervene.

For the record: I left empty handed!
And an added bonus: the following transcript of a conversation with my beloved, regarding one rather puzzling garment I was admiring.

K: How the hell are you supposed to wear this? Your nipples would be flying all over the place.
E: No, they wouldn’t. You wear that for cooking.
K: HAAAA!
K: You think it’s–
K: Snort, gasp.
E: Blank stare.
K: That’s not a–
K: AHHHH!
K: This is a dress, not an apron!

Honest mistake?

Sorry, Topshop, for disrupting the calculated, cool-girl vibe of your store with such violent shrieks of mirth.
(But not, though. That was damn delightful.)

-K