chameleon, sans karma

What is the nature of individuality versus conformity? Can we truly have both in a world in which we dress in clone-type GapJCrewOldNavy style and, like woebegone celebs, carry the same venti size lattes until there's nothing left but that prickly foam and backwash? And what is the value of blending in, if the panorama for your exertions is actually a somewhat garish carpet that Minion schlepped across the country from some dying rug business in Cambridge, Mass.? Ah, the pressures of a Zelig-meets-maverick mind. Sometimes, I am humbled by my own acumen.