She had a bad habit of chewing her nails and when her hands were busy she would bite her lip until she could taste the metallic flavour of her blood. It meant she rarely wore nail polish or lipstick, leaving only her eyes to be made up which she did with heavy black eyeliner and dark smoky shadows. It gave her quite a rock-punk look that severely contrasted with her demure and flowerly wardrobe. The crucial pieces were her jewellry and shoes. Most of her black earrings were delicate pieces and the bracelets that she wore around her thin wrists were small and sweet, on occasion if she felt the outfit required some authority she would attach one of her of soft chockers around her neck. Her shoes were either classical Mary Janes or thick, tall boots chosen dependent on the catergory of meetings she had each day: shoes for the management, boots for the clients.
With her short nails atop slender long fingers, lips red from self-inflicted trauma and her discordent image Carrie often noted a few stares and glances from both men and women. It made her smile to know that she was getting attention at last; at school she had always seemed invisible.