Name: Louise Pearson
Likes: Having fun, making people laugh, cooking, reading, cleaning and drawing.
Dislikes: Fake people, mess/dirt, drama, fighting, cold, crowded buses/trains, hangovers and waking up early
Bio: Born and raised in Canada, Louise moved to NYC with her parents when she was only eight years old. Even at such a young age, Louis already knew where her heart was. Louise is the kind of girl who says that she's going to do something and does it, she's always the life of the party and is always a good shoulder to cry on. The only problem with Louise is that she has OCD, she finds it incredibly hard to restrain from cleaning. You go in her home and you'll see imaculate rooms with windows that are so clean you'd think they're not there. Despite her cleaning habits, her greatest passion are photography and drawing, you'll always find her beloved sketchbook in her bag with her camera hanging around her neck ready to capture whatever catches her eye. When it comes to men, Louise feels that she could do without, another person to clean up after would be horrid and it's not like she can find someone who would want to put up with that.
Job: Assistant Designer
Relationship Status: Single
Model: Anais Pouliot
Taken by: (hopefully!) @daisie-xo
+Include a top 3:
1. Utah Collins
2. Melanie Ford
& I don't have a third.
+ A story minimum of two paragraphs:
I ironed out my sweater then folded it and put it to the side, today was my first day of work and I wasn’t about to let a crinkled sweater ruin it. I had planned my outfit two days before and made sure that they were washed, dried and ironed prior. It was when I took the sweater off of the hanger and noticed there was a slight crease in there that I had to start over.
I tried not to let something so little get to me but even when I put on the outfit, thinking I’d feel better but after catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror I felt as if the crease was teasingly sticking its tongue out at me.
After eating my breakfast, I put on my outfit and checked my appearance in the mirror for the final time. My trademark red lipstick seemed to make my mood go back up again. Yesterday I planned my journey checking on all the sites that I’d get there exactly half an hour early in case there was traffic, a road accident or someone decided to mess around on the train.
Once I was content with the journey plan, I packed my bag with what I usually needed: my makeup bag, my phone, my planner, hand sanitizer, hand wipes, my camera, my sketchbook and my pencil case.
I left my apartment in a casual manner, not needing to be in a rush seeing that I knew when the bus would be coming.
I wanted to catch the bus that was supposed to arrive in the next ten minutes so I wouldn’t have to run because running means perspiration and perspiration means smelling like a foot all day and taking a flannel and deodorant to work on the first day didn’t seem like the best thing to do.
The train that I got on was empty which was perfect; I didn’t have to be squashed in a corner while someone reaches over me to hold onto the pole with their armpit directly in my face. I sat down on the seat farthest from the others in the emptiest carriage which only had about four other people in it.
Which was when I began to count everything in sight to get an even number in total. Five passengers in this carriage, I winced, four…don’t count you. Twenty four seats in total-on one carriage-two pairs of double doors, four doors in total-on one carriage-and one window on each side, I winced again, two windows Louise…two large windows.
I got off at my stop and used the map on my phone to guide me the rest of the way, as predicted; I reached my destination half an hour early then sat down in the reception as I waited for my name to be called.
(Hope this is okay!)