For the last several months I've been itching to own, and wear, an apron. Not a modern, functional apron, like you might wear while cooking in a bistro, doing leatherwork, or weeding the garden. No, I want a frilly, embroidered, ultra-femme Donna-Reed-meets-Romanian-folkdancer apron. With pockets. I want a
kötényI prefer wearing skirts, but I'd
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