Some people shop. Cherelle hunts. There is a difference. I have known her long enough to understand that what looks like luck is actually literacy — a deep, intuitive fluency in fabric, silhouette, decade, and possibility. We used to work together in a vintage store, back when I had just graduated from Art School and still believed that curating racks of old denim and silk blouses was a temporary detour before my “real” life began. Looking back, that shop was more educational than any lecture hall. And Cherelle was its quiet professor. She could scan a rack in seconds. Not…