So, it was suggested to me that writing a one-shot could be a good way to get through writer's block. Chapter 6 of Play On is actually going pretty well, but I had to send part of it off for a sort of pre-beta because I was worried I adding in too much extra stuff and not putting in enough plot;-) To help clear out my mind so I can look at it with a more critical eye, I decided to shift gears a little bit. I actually had the idea for this little piece before I started Play On, but the concept gradually shifted and this was eventually forgotten. Not so any longer! It's a little bit different than my normal thing, so I'm counting on reviews to tell me how this turns out;-) The original prompt: Why is Monique's room is covered in purses?

Disclaimer: I don't own Monique, She's the Man, Hermès, Louis Vuitton, Christian Dior, Yves Saint-Lauren, Valentino or anything else. I wish very much that I did.

Idle Shallow Things: Monique

Her father has five older brothers, and she has none. She's got a pack of uncles, with a whole host of male cousins, but no brothers of her own. No little sisters, either, unless you count her ex-step-sister (she doesn't). She's pretty sure that's why it started.

Monique Valentine, DAR darling. Future Junior League extraordinaire.

A pretty girl, with pretty dresses and pretty shoes. Girly as girly gets. Her grandma probably didn't encourage that on purpose, and she's long past the point where she doesn't know any better herself. But at four years old, she realized that she was the girl, the only little lady in the family, and all the pink ribbons and shiny shoes that no one got to buy for the last generation were to be heaped upon her whether she wanted it or not (other girls wore scuffed sneakers). They just wanted a little girl, and she thought it was good enough to be wanted. There was nothing wrong with being loved for what she was, even if she wouldn't be it forever.

Every Christmas, birthday, trip to a relative's house, or sometimes 'just because' she got all the latest things to make her a pretty girl. Pretty girls were better than the regular kind, you know. She got her ears pierced at age three. Her first Hermès bag at nine. First dyed her hair at thirteen (first kiss happened sometime between those things, too, but no one ever wanted to know). Sometime after the trips to the salon started, the family started asking about the ultimate in accessories: a boyfriend. Sometimes they even found her one or two that she might like. She collected them too- like her bangle bracelets- in different sizes and colors, some for everyday, and some for special occasions (depending on what they're made of). Sometimes- just like the bracelets- she dropped or broke one. Once in awhile, she even did it on purpose (only for the ugly ones she can't take anywhere). Sometimes one she likes starts to roll away, and then she has to chase after it (across the floor or a pizzeria).

It's hard to be so pretty, but she's the girl and someone's got to do it. Everyone wants her to be, and she won't let them down.

Once, when she was little, her grandma took her to Paris for a week. She remembers holding her grandma's hand as they quickly maneuvered along the Champs-Élysées. It was there, with crowds of people brimming with strange words, that she pressed her face against the glass window of Louis Vuitton and knew what it was like to understand real love.

It was lots of time and attention to make it right, soft on the inside, strong on the outside, all wrapped up in the right name and it would follow you anywhere. It would carry everything you needed to get by inside, and in return you would always hold it close. Love.

There was a sharp lesson learned in the store that day too: love costs quite a bit (she sometimes can't tell if that message never stuck or if she listened to it too well. Sometimes she doesn't know the difference because love rarely listens anyway.).

And she knew that it was, indeed, love. It was just harder than she thought to find it outside of a store. The bright pink storybooks, full of princesses and happily-ever-after never prepared her for this. Sleeping Beauty and Snow White had it so easy! No princes ever turned up at her house on their own, so she had Christian, Yves, and Valentino delivered to the door by request. The bags became more dependable than the boys, after awhile. None of them seemed to be able to hold all the things she kept inside her (she'd keep them closer if they did). They certainly weren't willing to follow her anywhere; they took off for video games and sporting events at the drop of a hat. Not one of them wanted to stay with her when her grandmother died (but it might have been because she wasn't so pretty during all that, and it would be a few years yet before she learned to hide tears with mascara and cover-up).

But she was given a set of beautiful antique picture frames from her grandma's estate. "Put loved ones in them" her father had said, "so they can look after you."

She found two prints of old-fashioned purses (fancy French ones, like her grandma bought her) and hung the frames next to her bed. After that, everyone gave her more and more, and she was happy to accept them. There are some things she can count on in her life, at least. She knows what her its takes to be her true love, and she's happy to tell anyone who wants to know (no one does; now her older cousins have plenty of little girls of their own to keep the family happy).

Boys date her because she's pretty, but that doesn't help her carry any of the weight. Girls don't like her because she isn't struggling with crushes and drama like theirs. She knows what she's looking for, she just can't find it. She thought Sebastian Hastings might be close enough. He didn't like sports, and thought video games were a waste of time (he wrote her a song once, but refused to play it for anyone else). Her now ex-boyfriend told her that her voice over the phone sounded like a screeching owl, so she thought about only calling him when he left a message or called her first (he never calls first). He ran off without saying a word every so often (she had a Vuitton bag stolen once, and is pretty sure it feels kind of the same), and liked to create scenes in public. She was willing to pay that cost for him too; neither of them were perfect. She loses them if she just lets them go like that.

She wants a boy to have everything her purse does, and every boy wants to just purse her lips and be pretty. In the end, everyone knows what they want and she supposes it's a fair trade.

This was inspired by listening to the She's the Man DVD commentary, in which it is pointed out that Monique's bedroom (which is only shown in one scene) was decorated with as many purse pictures and items as possible. It was a joke for the production team, but of course, I don't like anything to be meaningless ;-) There has to be some kind of explanation for everything! Anyway, I hope you all liked this, and keep an eye out for my other story, Play On, which will have an update upcoming.