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Byline: Plum Sykes
On a summery Thursday night in May, Julie Janklow, 38, very tan, very lean, is sitting folded up like a Burmese cat on the hot-pink velvety floor of the 25-by-20-foot walk-in dressing room in her Greenwich Village town house. The Flaming Lips are on so loud you can't hear anything else. She's wearing a crisp, starched Turnbull & Asser blue-and-white striped dressing gown, and her long brunette hair is scrunched into a scruffily chic topknot.
"Hi, Boo Boo!" she exclaims when I arrive, using the greeting she favors for everyone from best friends to housekeepers in her minx-meets-baby doll voice. "I can't figure out what to wear. Maybe a ...