In a claustrophobic dressing room littered with straight pins, Regan Reilly was checking her reflection in the mirror. If there was anything she hated, it was shopping for jeans. With all the boot-cut, slim, straight, bell, stonewashed, low-rise, high-rise styles, and ever changing lengths, finding a pair that fit properly was a challenge. Harsh lighting didn’t exactly add to the joy of the occasion.
A deliberate pounding on the door was followed by a cheery, “It’s Turquoise. Any luck yet?”
Regan glanced at the pile of jeans she’d already rejected. “I think so,” she answered,...