Stella X Starlet

Stella X Starlet

"Being this blonde makes me feel
like a sheep in sheep’s clothing."

Stella has a headache.

4AM fluorescent lights on schoolbus yellow drugstore walls. Of course she has a headache. She forgot her sunglasses.

As she cruises aisle one she hears the stockboy murmur "Here pussy pussy," under his breath. Stella likes night people better than day people. At least they’re honest about what they want.

Aisle two: hair dye. Two peroxide blond techno-hippies with dark roots, huge pupils, and headphones shoplifting every unnatural shade they can get their hands on. The tags on their bags mark them as Germans, probably from the youth hostel a few blocks over.

They smile and wave at her, putting a new 10$ silver box of dye in Stella’s bag.

"The devil is looking for us,"

"He doesn’t recognize us, we must make sure, and you also."

"Danke," says Stella.

They both put their index fingers up to their mouths, shushing angelically.

"Shhh," Stella agrees.

Stella goes back though aisle one, stopping to pick up a candy bar. Stella unwraps it, and starts to nibble, loitering just out of view of the security camera. The stockboy is also loitering here, against the candy bar rack nibbling a Hershey bar.

"And why shouldn’t I stop you for shoplifting?" says the stockboy.

"What’s that you’re eating?"

"Perk."

Stella shrugs and yawns. "You could ring me up. That’s work. You could call the police or yell at me and confiscate what I have in my bag. Even more work. Stockboy in motion tends to stay in motion. Stockboy at rest tends to stay at rest."

"So what color?"

"I haven’t checked."

Stella opens her bag. Color 110: "Starlet" promises a Harlowesque shade.

"I dunno. I always liked you better as a redhead."

Stella shrugs. "Either it looks good or it looks bad. My hair falls out or it doesn’t. It’s not forever. Besides, not everyone has your dedication." Stella ruffles the stockboy’s high maintenance dark blue hair. "I hafta go and bleach my hair before I fall asleep and change my mind."

Stella heads for the door, raising her bag over her head to avoid the magnetic shoplift-o-alarm.

The German boys leaving behind her are too fucked up to remember the alarm and forget to lift their bags above their heads. As she gets behind the wheel she sees stockboy making perfunctory angry motions with his arms as he takes a couple of items out of the techno-hippies’ bags. She can hear him through the open window, "Don’t worry, don’t worry, it’s for the camera I won’t call the cops, it’s just pretend."

Stella waves, and blows the techno hippies a kiss. "Thanks!" They wave back, running towards the car, grinning, just like real fans, as she pulls away.

When Stella gets home, she pours herself a shot of bourbon and contemplates the packet, fully realizing the same colors have been continuously rereleased and remarketed by the same companies over the past ten years. 110/Starlet is "NEW!!!" packaged entirely in silver complete with ten dollar price tag, even though the same shade of blonde is already available in a plainer container at half the cost.

Stella lives dangerously, avoiding the patch test; she is not allergic to the twenty different shades already on her head. She mixes the developer, color, and ‘heavenscent packet,’ pointing the nozzle away from her face as she shakes with silver latex protected fingers. Releasing her index finger, she catches the aroma of heaven: a sharp chemical menthol-apple-poison scent. Truth never sells well. "OLD!!! Peroxide blonde color. At NEW, higher price. Exclusive formula menthol-apple-poison scent will make your head swim and your eyes water!!!"

Part, section, paint. In twenty five minutes, Stella has become half blonde. The other half, skunk-like, will not bleach out. Hardly Harlow. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Stockboy enters the kitchen, yawning. "You look like a grunge refugee, that’s so cute!"

Stella groans. "I wanted to be glamorous."

"Darling, being glamorous means you can no longer eat Taco Bell." Stockboy hands her two Seven Layers. "You can thank me later."

Stella gnaws her food substitute. "Think I’m worth less than five bucks?"

"You are completely worthless."

Stella kisses the boy. "Get some sleep."