The trusts are nearly burned through, but your mother’s vintage collection might be worth more. You liquidate selectively and catalogue aggressively. Wealth fluctuates. Taste does not.

YOUR UNIFORM:
A robe worth one month’s rent, golden silk layers, a good luck charm you pretend not to need, brass tassel earrings that feel like both ornament and tether, hair so well nourished it might be your greatest inheritance, classic but slightly off-kilter heels, a smokey eye, the memory of your parents’ place in Los Angeles, and a hair pin that helps you keep it all together.