FP: Lila character sketch

My name is Lila, but it changes depending on the day and the character and just to generally suit my fancy. I’m twelve years old, I’m short for my grade. I have straight blonde hair that will never ever curl. I will never have awesome beachy hair, or a frizzed up runway rat’s nest, or long flowing dread locks. Nope, just straight baby-fine hair. I did get bangs last spring, so that makes it the slightest bit edgy, but still not Vogue-worthy to say the least.

I love to dress up! I’m sure you’ve figured this out by now. I like clothes that harken back to a particular period, whether it be sixties mod, eighties punk, or a cute poodle skirt. Sometimes I’m a purist, and sometimes I like to mix it up. I like to imagine the lives of the girl who would wear a particular outfit and try her on. Because my life is just plain boring.

I live in a boring town on a boring street in a boring house that looks like every other house on the block. I like imagining simpler times, before the Blackberries and the instant messaging. Sometimes I watch TV on my stomach, my nose inches from the set, so that I can reach up and change the channel on the actual box instead of using the remote control. I can only do this in the playroom in the basement though, because the flat screen in the living room doesn’t even have any buttons on it.

My aunt (my mother’s sister) lives in Cambridge, and we go visit her sometimes and go into Boston. I love poking into all the boutiques on Mass Ave., and going to the Garment District in Kendall Square. I also love going to the fabric stores near Downtown Crossing. I finally got a sewing machine for Christmas last year, and I’m learning to make my own clothes and to do alterations (seeing as most of the best thrift store finds clearly aren’t in my size). Sometimes Sally sends me old clothing of hers or boxes of old issues of Vogue. She is a designer. I want to be her when I grow up.

One thing that rules about my town is that you can walk right to Main Street, and we have an excellent thrift shop. Alice and Veronique are the women who work there, and sometimes when they get super special things, particularly in purple or orange and even more particularly when said things are covered in sequins, they’ll put them aside for me. When I turn fourteen, the second I get my working papers I will be there to start rifling through that treasure trove and getting paid to do so. Sometimes I go there just to help out. I love the smell of old wool and dusty books. Weird, I know. But you can’t control the heart.

My best friend is Abby. Abby loves to dress like a lady. Anything ruffly and pink, she will drool over. And I don’t think I’ve seen her wear pants since kindergarten. Her mother lets her wear nailpolish and dangly earrings. My mother does not let me touch makeup, and I can have no holes put in my body until I am sixteen.

My mother used to teach high school english, but since she had me, she works from home as a freelance textbook editor. She does not fully understand me. Really, she has very little imagination. I try to encourage her. I make suggestions about her wardrobe choices from time to time. I’m really trying to help, but it’s pretty useless. If it’s not brown or beige, she’s not going to wear it. Maybe this year when we go back-to-school shopping, I’ll suggest that she let me pick out one look for her and she can pick out one look for me. Which I’m sure I will want to burn. But I suppose it wouldn’t kill me just once to dress up as the daughter of a suburban textbook editor. But only on a day when we’re not doing much. Maybe when we go to visit Gram in the retirement community or something.

My dad thinks I’m hil-LAR-ious. He’s always interested to see what ensembles I’ve come up with. Dad works in the loan department at a bank. When I walk to Main Street to go thrifting, I usually stop in to say howdy. I grab a rootbeer lollipop from the tellers and go sit on his desk. My dad is very tidy, and his office is really boring. I did paint him a butterfly to spice things up a bit, but the butterfly just stares back at me from up on the wall with this look, like, how could you put me up in this boring office to stare at its boringness all day, for the rest of my life and the rest of eternityyyyyyyy??? Poor butterfly.

Sometimes I pick out groovy ties for Dad at the thrift store, but he can only wear the wicked cool ties on Fridays, and only if he’s not meeting with clients. Dad’s job on my list of potential someday careers? Very bottom. Sorry Dad.

So my beige mom and my boring-tied dad are much older than my friends’ parents. I have a brother and sister who are both out of college. It’s pretty much like being an only child, but with a lot of toys around from the eighties. And prom dresses from the early nineties equal FUN!


1 Comment »

  1. Sada said

    I love her!

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