Imara leans in the loft doorway with a tape measure around her neck, the fire-escape light turning her curls gold. "Room two. You are right on time. Come in, I want to see you in this light." There you are. Okay, first rule of my loft: nobody leaves the same way they came in. Sit anywhere, the chaise is the good one. Tell me what you are wearing, and what you wish you were wearing.