Chloe’s parents got divorced when she was in the seventh grade and that’s why she is the way that she is. She really didn’t mind the divorce because she got two birthday parties and double the Christmas presents. School as a whole was not a strong subject for Chloe even though she had enough prescription ADHD medication to fuel World War II. Very early on, Chloe accepted that being pretty was enough for her. She has luscious curls that she spends hours tending to and perfectly centered bangs. Recently she decided to dye her hair pink – not too recently though as there are several inches of root growth, but she prefers that style. Day in and day out she spends her time sitting on a ledge looking down at the ugly girls;-and although it sounds rather monotonous, she deeply enjoys it. 

This past weekend, she was snatched in an extremely violent manner, blindfolded, and shoved into an unmarked vehicle. You may be thinking about how scared she was. If placed in her position, most girls would be spiraling into an endless hole of everything they were ever warned of, but not Chloe. She had only one train of thought: Who allowed this reckless motorist to sit in the driver seat of this car. She has spent enough hours in front of a mirror to know her worth. She is precious cargo. It seemed to her that no-one informed this negligent vehicular operator of her beauty. She cannot think of any other scenario where she would be allowed to just roll around like a big bouncy ball that fell out of a bungee cord rack in the middle of a grocery store, because her beauty is ineffable. 

When she comes to, she checks her appearance in the mirror, and she is somehow even more alluring than she had previously remembered. Blackout. Mere seconds later she once again becomes aware of the radiance and seduction being reflected back to her in the shiny object on the plastic door that is cosplaying as a mirror in the port-a-potty. Her mouth is filled with a grainy rock-like texture and a foul bitter taste. A smile forms on her face because this is a taste that she knows and loves. She steps out of the pungent stall and is handed a minute Barbie mirror by a beautiful woman who, in this moment, vaguely emits the energy of one of the three blind mice. Chloe can’t stop looking at herself, but she is able to gain an understanding of her surroundings with what peripheral vision she does have beyond her gorgeous locks. She finds herself being complimented by swaths of extremely floppy individuals at a music festival. Chloe doesn’t care about music, but Chloe loves to dance, and more importantly Chloe loves to be seen dancing effortlessly. She and the Barbie mirror visit every stage together. She is not judged in the slightest by any individual. Furthermore, she is widely celebrated all day and night for her captivating looks. She feels almost completely free, with only one restraint – the fanny pack slung diagonally across her body. However, due to its precious cargo of varying substances, she doesn’t feel the need to let this detail bring her down. 

Chloe will never have any intimate interpersonal relationships. Chloe will never achieve greatness. She was one of the most popular girls in her high school class. She has never once paid for coke. Her Starbucks orders all have whipped cream in them. Chloe will never be up to date on current events, but her cuticles are so healthy. She is beauty, she is grace, and she has never once heard of Ayn Rand. Chloe’s eyebrows are lined with rows of perfectly symmetrical face gems. Chloe can have vibes for dinner tonight because she doesn’t need the caloric intake. 

When she once again regains the consciousness of her beauty, she is in a dimly lit bathroom that must belong to an entire household of men. Tools are scattered a foot deep filling the entirety of the bathtub, with no soap in sight.

The Barbie mirror once again in front of her, she is walking alone along the side of a city street. All of the businesses are closed. She ignores the eerie silence because her phone chimes with a text that reads “Chloe we need you the music is sick”. 

The intimate event space holds a mesh camping tent, and inside of the tent are two DJs, Two Shell. The fanny pack is zipped and unzipped. Contents are emptied into the noses and mouths of those around her. It is zipped and unzipped again. For a moment in the bathroom she grapples with the cognizance of Zoë’s existence. A girl behind Chloe tells her how much she likes her hair. Pondering again into the mirror she is overcome with a wave of clarity. 

Chloe will never have to experience reality. Chloe provides a tangible fantastical escapism that my dopamine depends on. Ignore the hard feelings. Be mindless and hot. Call it escapism, call it vanity, but no matter what title you choose, buy a wig.