The Rag Snob knows the exact value of every worthless object, and these are the only objects that she values. Her wardrobe consist of only castoffs, and not just any, but the best. These she finds at only the best old clothing stores, and the combinations she makes of them are the very elements of style.
She is not concerned with what other people wear; it's just too bad for them if they insist on wearing clothes that look like they were just made that morning. These have not been proven yet. It takes time to bestow the gift of taste. And as for people who wear things that are designed to go together, it's simply shows a lack of creativity. Clashing is important.
The Rag Snob has preferences that are indecipherable; there is no apparent basis for them, and this is precisely what makes them good. She is her own best work of art, and there is nothing more beautiful than a random collection of objects, insignificant in themselves. Heraclitus said this, and he may have been looking at the Rag Snob's bedroom.
She collects a curious combination of things; uniquely smelly incense sticks, small blue ceramic frogs, pink glass perfume bottles, tourist playing-cards, swatches of fabric that contain both green and purple, photographs of license plates, chess set pawns, amusing cat mugs. Every new thing she sees and likes becomes the beginning of a new collection.
All young men love the Rag Snob and want to buy things for her, but as soon as someone starts contributing to one of her groups, it ceases to attract her. Her room is also filled with tupperware containers of things she used to like, but now remind her only of one boy or another. She'd rather her collections remain purely her own. If you love a Rag Snob, please, don't give her anything you think she would like. Give her something you think she'd loathe instead.