In American they would be Tiffany and Candy

Yesterday I was riding on a full rutiera and trying not to people watch. But I just can't help it. So I noticed the two girls sitting in back. They dressed in Moldova ultra-fashion style, i.e. the Barbie look, with platinum hair, eyeliner, and rhinestones. I hated them and they were bitches, I had decided. I looked at them and wondered what girls like that though about me, with my height, my brown hair, my sexy, natural make-up, my cashmere turtleneck complimenting my flat shoes sans point? What did they think about my 1970's era, "The Love Story" middle-part? 'It's something new I'm trying,' I think, 'I'm not sure how I feel about it yet. Them hoes best not be judging.' I look at them, and they don't look at me.

Soon after, the rutiera stops for the girls to get off. They make their way from the back, squeezing through the rest of us passengers. One of the barbies steps on my foot as she's shoving through. Then, out of nowhere, like an angel from above, she turned just so, looked at me, smiled sweetly, and excused herself in the most exquisite Moldovan I have ever heard. I was in love, for I realized I did not hate her, but rather I wanted her to rekanize that I'm the real-deal pretty, I'm the au natural style that she and her friend are so far from, that I am the prettiest girl on the rutiera, damnit. And when she did notice, and smiled at me like "I know, we are one of the same. We are pretty girls, of different varieties." I knew then, that I'll make it in Moldova as a hottie babe too.