I knew something was wrong with me that summer, because all I could think about was the Rosenbergs and how stupid I'd been to buy all those uncomfortable, expensive clothes, hanging limp as fish in my closet, and how all the little successes I'd totted up so happily at college fizzled to nothing outside the slick marble and plate-glass fronts along Madison Avenue.
In that summer, the narrator realized something was off within her, as her thoughts were consumed by the trial of the Rosenbergs. She reflected on her earlier decisions, particularly the folly of purchasing expensive and uncomfortable clothing, which now lay unused in her closet. This introspection highlighted her disconnection from the material successes that had once brought her joy in college.
The narrator's sense of disappointment deepened as she faced the stark contrast between her earlier accomplishments and the harsh reality of life. The glamorous facade of Madison Avenue seemed to mock her; the things that had once felt meaningful were now overshadowed by feelings of inadequacy and the weight of her self-doubt.
