There isn’t anything quite like her.
We were dancing in our underwear to Robyn before Hannah Horvath thought of it.
Red lipstick as the Lord Savior.
Thigh-high socks as a religion.
High-heels to be worn when sweeping the floors. Be your own Madonna-Whore.
Within the confines of her four walls, or three walls and floor-ceiling-windows, the girly girl is herself in her absolute. Here she belongs to herself.
Narcissism is not a deviant practice; it is a means to life. Have many mirrors. This is not self-absorption, this is self-love.
Red wine provides relief from fever, aches, frustration and boys.
Lingerie is greatest part of being the girly girl. Agent Provocateur, Forever21, black lace, pink-on-white floral cotton.
The tweezer is the greatest tool. Use it wisely. Answers and meanings do not lay deep in the eyes; they are found in the arches of eyebrows.
Envision Marie Antoinette, envision Lux Lisbon. That is what our lives look like. We flop idly on the bed, our eyes forlorn and our lips say, “Fuck me.” These are ascribed characteristics.
Our faces say, “Let’s be friends.” The two braids resting on our shoulders say, “Fuck me.”
We are in charge of our Madonna-Whore complex.
If it is pink, we’ll eat it.
Sunday afternoons are meant to be spent in a vintage fur coat and black panties, dancing to ‘Drunk In Love.’
Dance in front of a mirror — don’t dance by yourself.
We ask our friends in transit in Europe to pick up a pack of Sobranies for us.
That is, we will smoke anything that looks like Unicorn Blood.
The last time I paid for a meal was ________________.
The last time I paid for a drink was ________________.
We take advantage of no one; we are the advantage.
That is, the girly girl exists as a method of social control.
We love ourselves unconditionally, and for this we loathe ourselves.
Clueless references, whatever your generation.