If you walk into an Abercrombie & Fitch, the first thing you’ll notice is this: It smells exactly the way you remember. It smells like a hot upperclassman leaning up against your locker, toying with his puka shell necklace, asking to “borrow” your algebra homework. It smells like popping the collar of not one but two polo shirts, worn one on top of the other. It smells like a ripped miniskirt that costs $98.
