Fox, Florence T.

[Deleted]

full name florence taylor fox. age 20. home town --- current city london, england. education high school diploma. occupation intern at selfridges (window design team). ________________________________________    “MOST OF THE TROUBLE IN THE WORLD IS    CAUSED BY PEOPLE WANTING TO BE IMPORTANT.”   It started with a brief. "Come May, Window Design Team, we want to focus on beauty", said the bosses. Unsurprising, really, given the incredible amounts of money people will pay to improve their looks. Beauty marketing is almost entirely aspirational - that is to say dependent on making you feel ugly, in order for you to hand over serious £££ to buy some good looks back. Age is your enemy, though no one's immortal. Perfection is your goal, though flaws are what make you human in the first place. It wasn't a brief that I was excited about.   But then it was, and it's all thanks to two little words. "Hello Beautiful". Spoken aloud it could sound like the predecessor to an awful chat up line, but written in huge walls of neon... it became conceptual. Hello Beautiful. Work with your own natural beauty, and don't try to buy someone else's version. Don't be told what's beautiful. An inclusive idea, something celebratory rather than condemnatory.      It's been live for some weeks now. We've flogged an awful lot of cosmetics. ________________________________________     I have plenty of brothers, but one in particular. Francis thinks he's more than my brother. He thinks he's my protector, my guardian, my conscience, my mentor, my role model, my better, my owner, my spiritual defender. He thinks (knows?) that he's smarter than me, despite the fact that I outsmart him near constantly. He devours heavy leather-bound books as if they're child's play, often pointedly leaving those he's finished next to piles of my magazines. He thinks I'm dim.   And yet he doesn't. He takes responsibility for my existence, as if we weren't born within minutes of each other. When I say something he approves it prompts pride, and I can practically hear him congratulating himself for teaching me it. He despairs over my commitment to Facebook and addiction to selfies, and yet praises my looks as if they were a work of art. He seldom begrudges me my time away from him, only to later cut through me with one simple observation: that no one compares to him. Time spent away from him is time wasted, and I hate that he knows it.  ________________________________________ your name lexxxxxx. play-by terra jo. your most recent work u don't own me.