Sierra Ferrell is standing in the middle of a vintage store in East Nashville, twirling a pair of leather Seventies-era shoes in one hand with a stack of jackets in the other. “Loafers!” she proclaims with the enthusiasm of someone hunting for gems and coming up with a rare quartz. She flips one over, inspects the chunky wood heel, and then reluctantly places it back on the shelf. “Those look like they are going to hurt my back. I mean, it’s all downhill from here.”
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