Let’s pretend this Restoration Hardware—the biggest RH in the goddamned world—is not a gigantic retail scam but a rambling six-story boutique hotel made for us, because that’s exactly what it looks like. Let’s enter off Peachtree and carry our fake Gucci bags through the high lobby and gawk at the well-mannered furniture and avoid eye contact with the “hotel employees” and go room to room, trying out the couches and beds made just for us, climbing the stairs to the next floor, and the next, thumbing through the incredibly thick RH catalogs and dreaming of a richer life where one would actually buy their child a bed like that, nodding hello to other “hotel guests,” until we step out on the top-floor balcony with its cool lounge furniture and unimpeded views of Atlanta progress, the milky sky coloring to deep orange as the sun sets, sipping from our whiskey flask, sipping more, deciding it’s time to recite aloud a little Dickey: “First in the heart
Of my blind spot are
The Buckhead Boys.
If I can find them, even one,
I’m home.
And if I can find him
catch him in or around
Buckhead, I’ll never die” Until we are asked to please leave the store.