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Byline: Sally Singer
It's 10:00 p.m., and I'm drinking a Santa Barbara Chardonnay at the Montage in Laguna Beach, the place everyone has told me is the hot spot in the O.C. for style-setting and style-watching and style-verbing generally. Accordingly, I'm wearing a little black dress by Phi and dangling a Manolo from the old crossed leg at the bar. But I couldn't have gotten it more wrong. Peer carefully into the fashionable gloom of the bar (which is actually in the basement but somehow still has breathtaking ocean views); here, in a nutshell (or should that be puka shell?) is what I can see of the O.C. woman: From eighteen to 65, she's wearing True Religion ...