You pay extortionate amounts of money for me so you can flaunt me and flex your wealth.

An admittedly old school item, I'm dark as the night. My purpose is to leave a mark, which I can do with the thing that enables flight.

A house has it, but a garden doesn't. A pavilion is essentially only this, supported by poles. What word are we looking for?

Threaded ballet where needle and thread dance, stitching tales in fabric's embrace, mending hearts and hems alike.

I’m white and puffy, and close at the hip. I make sure little ones don’t drip. I'm used for a short time, then tossed in the bin, to protect the world from what's within.