So, she climbed up the mountain of luxury items, scaling the Idea of Wealth. But though it often felt real to her, none of it really was. The Idea of Diana already seemed to be responsible for producing so many articles of clothing. She didn’t want to use such fine objects as footholds, it seemed such a waste. The Idea of Diana frowned at the pile where Evita stood. She stood on a mountain of dresses and jewelry, belting it out to anyone who would listen. Except the Idea of Eva Perón - who insisted on simply being called “Evita” - had a very unique way of expressing her sorrow.Įvita was singing, as she almost always was. They had a lot in common, both being dead blonde women, made famous by their politician husbands, and both were fairly certain their lives were tragic. Wanting to have some help sorting things out, she went to speak to her friend, the Idea of Eva Perón. Whatever the truth about her life was, the Idea of Diana was inconsolable and gorgeous. What Idea of Diana was she today? Was she the one who died in a preventable car accident, or was she the one who was strategically killed off by the royal family? Was she the biggest tragedy of her time? Or was she just a privileged woman who couldn’t handle what life threw at her? One day, like many other days, The Idea of Diana suddenly cried, because her life was very sad. Sunglasses would pour from her eyes like tears, arching in a rainbow from her face. The Idea of Diana would leave behind trails of bulky pastels, fitted jeans, stylish caps, and Dior handbags in the thousands.
Sometimes, clothing would erupt from her skin, shedding one layer after another like a snake. Every step she takes, she leaves behind a footprint of light. She is ageless, blonde, beautiful, wearing a thin black dress that exposes her slender shoulders. Somewhere above our heads drifts the Idea of Diana Spencer, former Princess of Wales. It’s not the right ending unless it’s gone all to ruin.” A short story where the Ideas of two famous woman grapple with an identity crisis…
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