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The saying goes, "Pride cometh before a fall." If this saying is true, then she had better strap on a parachute. Her lofty stature allows her upturned nose closer to the heavens than most ever dream of being. An overt aura of would-be high-class stuffiness consumes her like a terrible plague. Her sheer arrogance is accentuated by her lavish attire. Her voice is such that it makes nails on a chalkboard seem like a child's lullaby. The golden color of her hair (which can probably be found in some container in some ritzy salon) frames her icy blue eyes (which probably should be contained for the sake of those who fall under her wrath).