You know how it goes. You see her, traipsing across some chilly London street or slivered up next to a big name designer at some cool event, always dressed in what everybody's going to be wearing next season, the way no one else has thought to wear it. She looks at you from underneath the cool bangs, sometimes clinging to a beau, sometimes just a hot handbag. And, then you feel like you just breathed in some kind of special, flower-laden air, because after all she's Kate Moss and even if you want to hate her for her bad press or bad boyfriend, or whatever, you know her style kicks bootie. StyleDiarist
Rumi produces the same effect.