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I had just spent the afternoon at MoMA. Three and a half hours of glorious solitude with Van Gogh and Warhol. I headed over to Lexington Ave to walk the 15 blocks south to my hotel. It was cold, but sunny, and I was enjoying my walk. I had my leopard print uggs on for warmth and comfort, along with a silk scarf and stylin' beige jacket. I thought I looked New York worthy.
A good looking man in a dark overcoat and suitcase strode by me on the left. “You walk like a married woman,” he stated. Then he looked at me, smiled, and kept walking. I stopped. “What does that mean?'
He just laughed.
Explain