{ Sparkling lamborghini wheels and sky high loubutin heels }

♔ Blaire Emilja Marcielle-Woodsen. Of course you know her, hun.
♔ You dare spoil her elegant identity with a NICKNAME?
♔ Shining brighter than diamonds for seventeen years
♔ Paris, France {Birthplace}
♔ London, Britain {Hometown}
♔ Open that copy of Vogue, darling. See that ethereally beautiful face on the cover, of that famous girl you always wanted to be? That’s Blaire. You stare at her lush blonde hair in envy. Why does it fall down her back in those smooth, thick, elegant waves yours never do? You wonder. You can almost smell the coconut and strawberry scent of those gorgeous tresses, as well as the VS perfume from her statuesque figure. Look at those startling grey eyes that look like a thunderstorm with flecks of silver and platinum, rimmed with blue and black, under perfect mocha blonde brows you never had, with those thick beach brown lashes you feel sure are fake but aren’t. Her lips are like a forbidden fruit- full, slightly plump and oh, so seductive. Her perky C-cups make you insecure, and so does her flat stomach and 32” waist. Her legs are smooth and waxed, toned and statuesque, clad in Tory Burch sandals, but something about her face tells you she’s not your typical rich bxtch.
{Made by Sarah, not Anakelle}

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