My sister gave me a ton of clothes for Klara when she was a baby. And a toddler, and a big kid. She has loads of stuff from my niece who is six years older.
I would bring Klara to daycare in a Chanel or Givenchy onesie or a tiny dress from Jean Paul Gaultier but I’d arrive in this ancient old beater of a car. It was my first car, and it made no sense to buy new if I was going to tear off the bumper every month by parking too close to the curb. I’d hand over the extremely chic baby and proudly drive off in a car that had pieces fall off it in the process, like in Cuba.
I’m sure the staff at the daycare had a lot to say about crazy rich people.
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