Meredith, even though every time I see a picture of you I can't quite shake the feeling that you are some Vogue-ified reincarnation of "whatever you say, mere", and your hair and tan are consistently too perfect to be normal, I still love you, because you were the first person to tell me about k.jacques, and you're the person who wears flats to fashion week, and you're the only other person who loves oatmeal as much as me, and you live out those dreams of a modern-day CBK, and you make me quite excited for those days when I'm a flats-wearing, wide-pants toting mom (so, all I need is a baby, huh?) and running around some fabulous town looking just like you.
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