Pic Source: Unkown
She has amazingly long, curly and wild blonde hair, which often has a delicate and beautiful bone china teacup adorning it.
She loves brushes of all kinds and collects them with vigour. Make-up brushes in small delicate packets, big blusher brushes that poof with gusto. Pointy watercolour brushes in colours ranging from black to red to white. Fan brushes that make her giggle with glee as she sweeps it across her canvas. Hard square brushes that mop up colour. If you ever want to make her scream with joy, present her with a beautiful brush from a distant land. One with a beautifully carved wooden handle. But be careful, she may never let you go after that.
Frames with delicately carved wood, old & rusty, sleek, glass, plastic. She loves them all and places them haphazardly everywhere she is. On top of a pile of books, a trail along her wooden floor, all over her antique writing desk, placed along the windowsill. She knocks them over repeatedly when dancing around her apartment. But picks them up again when ABBA has stopped her dancing queen routine.
Cupcakes in every size and flavour make her heart race. The big over-sized muffin tin ones. Tiny faire cakes. Beautiful pastel pinks and blues, the elegant silver and gold wrappers. Each one brings a twinkle to her eye and a need to bake. She mixes the batter with six year old like passion and licks the spoon clean. Always using too much sugar, too much chocolate, and too much icing.
Spending hours upon hours gazing in bookstores, running her fingers along the spines. And secretly judging them all by their covers. The bright glossy covers, the matt environmental ones, fonts in every size and shape. Clever designs, plain business covers, beautifully entwined text. And nothing makes her as excited to find a treasure of a book. Old, tatty, with dog-bent ears and brown marks. A book that was read a million times over, that was loved and slept in, under the covers with its previous owner. One that has chocolate and coffee stains. One that keeps you company on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
On the weekends you will find her wandering around her apartment in her highest and most extravagant high heels and pyjama’s, eating Nutella out of the jar with an over sized spoon.
She never winks; it tangles her long, pitch-black lashes. Instead she blows kisses at everyone she see’s. Dog’s in the park particularly love her for this and drool on her sparkly shoes as a thank-you.
She longs to be a burlesque dancer and wonders if she could do Ditta’s champagne glass routine in a gigantic ice-cream sundae dish with cream. She practices this routine in the bath when she overdoes with bubbles. Her bemused dog seems to find it entertaining at least.
