A mirage in the desert.

How can it be that only four doors down from the mecca of style don't - Au bon Pain - there is an establishment easily five times the size with twenty times the number of shoppers (i.e. working people at "doctor's appointments"), not one of whom had even a hint of a fashion fault?

I even went so far as to look in the Science Fiction and Fantasy section, for surely any grown woman reading the back of Phantom: Chainfire Triology, pt. 2, the Sword of Truth, is at best going to be wearing pleated, wide-cuffed khakis and mismatched foundation, right?

Wrong. She was hot. Totally hot. Fitted black trousers, sky-high skinny heeled almond-toed pumps (pretty sure they were Loeffler Randall), slim, tucked-in white oxford shirt, black croc belt, two-strand pearl necklace, pearl studs, and on her arm, the short khaki Burberry trench that taunts me with its $725 price tag on my way to work every morning.

Embarrassed being caught with such a "book," the woman turned to me and said, "It's for my little brother. At least he's reading, you know?"

I suppose.

I could sit here and discuss how unfortunate her hair and skin was, but it wouldn't be right -- her outfit and her taste were that good.

Next time, I'm just going to park myself in the Dress Barn next to the empanada shack.