The Snotty And The Simple

I was walking down the corridors of Powerplant mall yesterday when I encountered a group of young adults loitering around. I glanced at them, a clique of rich kids. Nothing unusual as Powerplant is the mall of choice of the upper social class. They were all dressed in the same way. All made-up and snottily cracking each other up, wearing fashionable clothing, dirty sneakers, and aviator sunglasses. Very cliché, I thought. Every one of them reminds of a peacock. All puffed-up and pretty, with a pea-sized brain and an Almighty-me attitude.

I went to Market Market shortly after that. Surprisingly, as I was eating my very late brunch at a fast food joint, a group of young adolescents walked in. Females, this time, all model-thin and walking the walk. Brushing past by, they sat down directly in the table beside mine. They then proceeded to chatter away, pretty rouge-tinged lips pouting, legs dangerously exposed by shorter-than-short shorts as they sat crossed-legged. I knew they were, obviously, not as rich as the ones I saw earlier, but the same feeling permeated from them – that of a peacock spreading its colorful tail to outdo others and attract potential mates.

Amazing how snottiness can transcend social class. All deliberately pretty façades yet I don’t remember any of their faces.