The one with the black and white striped peplum top and buttery jean shorts crossed her hands delicately on top of the sunscreen-stained picnic table and told us her name was Kate, but we should call her Chanel because did you know Coco Chanel was the first designer to make clothes out of inexpensive fabrics like you’re wearing today?
Chanel did it to make money, I sparred, and I was given a hesitant smile as she found a new audience who nodded anxiously along with her squeaky voice that staying in the Four Seasons would be wonderful especially if you hadn’t ever been able to stay anywhere but a Hilton because your dad was a member.
Oozing with glee, her tiny porcelain cheeks lifted, or was it her nose, as she lost herself in the future–styling for the hottest young designer in New York City, eating just a single macaroon for breakfast lunch and dinner, reigning social media with an iron pinky finger, and defending her demands on her interns with the weeks she spent at Girl Scout camp.
Watery blue eyes agog, her delicate little white hands summoned her sweaty pre-pubescent audience’s admiration of her future success with grand gestures describing the traffic levels in Manhattan.
And yet, her hands never became as determined as at at lunch, when the slender fingers clutched a milk chocolate Hershey’s bar as she nibbled it stickily away from its humid wrapper in five bites.
Turns out, eleven is still a long way from a penthouse in New York City.