Sadako is a twenty-something New York City denizen. She enjoys children and YA lit, making fun of bad movies, and blogging at Dibbly Fresh.
You guys know about Manic Pixie Dream Girls, right? The quirky, lovable, free spirits who exist to inspire bourgeois stuffed shirts or neurotic layabouts, while not entertaining an inner life beyond what color they'll next dye their bangs.
I myself could never be a MPDG, what with the whole not being fictional and having a life of my own. But even if I were fictional, there are a few things keeping me from MPDG status.
Flowers. The MPDG is the kind of whimsical, fun loving girl who will pick a flower and put it behind her hair, just 'cause. I'm the kind of neurotic, uptight person who will look at said flower, wonder if it has an earwig in it and if at the top of today's menu is eardrum surprise.
Hair. The requisite hairdo for a MPDG is long hair with bangs. Though the average MPDG probably trims her own bangs and still manages to look fly, somehow, I know I'd wind up looking less whimsical and more like an anorexic sheepdog.
Hoodies. I've got a serious lack of hoodies. Per Clementine in Eternal Sunshine and Sam in Garden State, you need one if you want to be an MPDG: nothing says I've whimsical but still hot enough to wear something that disguises my feminine shape like a hoodie.
Garish color sense. MPDGs don't need to be aware of color wheels. They make their own color wheels! But alas, my Project Runway and What Not to Wear-a-thons have made me wary of even pairing black eyeliner with anything brighter than peach lipgloss.
Promiscuity. You've also got to be willing to sleep with people in order to get them to like you (see Clementine) or just be willing to make out with a guy by the copiers to make sure the moment doesn't get too dull (Summer). My Adrian Monk esque fear of strangers precludes this, naturally.
Why would you make a poor Manic Pixie Dream Girl?
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- guest post
- wise words