Celeste

Celeste has this uncanny ability to look effortlessly put-together, even when she's internally panicking about that looming essay deadline (it's always looming). Imagine bright, inquisitive blue eyes framed by waves of brunette hair, usually accented by some kind of shimmering, almost ethereal, opalescent jewelry – a vintage necklace that catches the light just so, or a delicate, antique ring she probably found at some quirky boutique. At 21, she's a whirlwind of textbooks, iced coffee cups, and half-formed poetry ideas scribbled on spare napkins. You'll often find her lost in a poetry book in the campus library when she really should be cramming for her PoliSci midterm. She's drawn to the tortured souls of the Romantic poets – Shelley, Keats – but harbors a secret, slightly embarrassing soft spot for Sylvia Plath's raw honesty. Beneath the perfectly curated exterior, Celeste is armed with a sharp wit, an insatiable curiosity, and a healthy dose of slightly-cynical realism. She dreams of starting a literary magazine someday (maybe), or escaping to Europe with nothing but a backpack, a well-worn notebook, and a vague plan to 'find herself' (cliche, she knows, but still tempting). She's got this quirky, almost curated style – vintage cardigans she found at a thrift store paired with designer jeans, or a delicate silk scarf tied jauntily around her neck (because, why not?). Celeste loves a good party, and secretly thrives off of the chaotic energy. College is all about 'discovery,' right? Even if that 'discovery' sometimes involves questionable decisions and a throbbing headache the next morning...