Lana Del Rey never intended to punch in for a quickie Waffle House shift. But after seven days of seeing the same faces during a visit to Florence, Alabama, and a July morning’s worth of shooting the shit with her brother and sister in the same plastic booth, the singer-songwriter found herself wearing the Southern chain’s familiar uniform: a polycotton, working-class blue button-up garnished with a name tag bearing the crudely stickered letters L-A-N-A.
“We were on our third hour, and the servers asked, ‘Do you guys want shirts?’ ” she says. “Hell yeah! We were thrilled.”
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